Alice reread the note in the masculine scrawl:
Alice,
Thank you for the weekend in Richmond. It was most enjoyable to me, not least for the time spent in your delightful son’s company.
I hope that I can see both of you again.
The reason for the present is to make an appointment to further discuss an endowment to the Society. I could come to your office or residence, or you can come to my office. I leave it up to you whatever is most convenient to you.
I remain, as ever, your servant,
Nicholas Tennent
Her glance strayed to the bottom of the note where he’d written his address on Threadneedle Street. His business no doubt. Or, businesses. She remembered Geoff’s and Victor’s remarks and tried to push them away as merely masculine envy.
She turned over the envelope that lay on the desk. The Savoy Hotel was embossed on the back flap. The image of the hotel as his residence conjured up a transient with no permanent home.
Did Nicholas plan to remain in London or was he here only temporarily? How little she still knew of him.
Her son had done little but talk of Nicholas since their return. Was she jealous of Nicholas’s success with Austen? The ugly thought lodged in her mind and she couldn’t brush it aside so easily. Was she such a terrible mother to begrudge her only son some masculine companionship?
She’d always been protective of Austen, but now she realized how difficult it was for her to trust her only child to someone else. Julian would gently admonish her to trust their son to the Lord’s care. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the note before her. Despite her trust in other areas, she felt little able to relinquish control in this area. Austen was all she had left. All that was truly hers.
She wiped at her eyes and picked up the note from Nicholas once more. When she’d first seen the envelope in her stack of mail, she’d felt a spurt of anticipation. Now, her confusion returned. And if she were honest with herself, did it not include disappointment as well?
He’d written that he hoped to see both of them again. When Nicholas had bid them goodbye at Victoria Station the day before, he’d taken her hand in his and thanked her for the weekend. Then he’d stooped by Austen and shaken his hand.
She’d watched, touched by their exchange. Nicholas treated him like a miniature adult. He’d promised her son they would be seeing each other again.
Yet, here in the note he expressed only an intention to see her regarding a charitable donation. What did she want? Staring out her rain-spattered window, she chided herself. It was she who had pushed away any friendly overtures on Nicholas’s part.
Shaking aside her own foolishness, she focused on the latter part of the note. The only reasonable thing to do was reply to his request and meet with him to discuss the particulars of the charitable donation.
“Mama.”
She turned with a smile to her son. “What is it, Austen? Why aren’t you with Miss Grove?”
“I told her I left Moppet down here and had to get him.”
“Of course. Then you’d better hurry up to your lessons. If you finish early, we can go to the park together.”
“Is Mr. Tennent coming, too?”
She turned away from him, feeling sudden guilt. Had she driven her son’s only friend away? Or, had Nicholas’s interest in the boy already waned? “No, dear.”
“Why not?”
“Mr. Tennent is a busy man. I imagine he is at his office working right now.”
“When is he coming to visit? He said he’d see me soon.”
“I don’t know exactly when. We’ve only been home one day.” She glanced down at the note. Should she say anything to her son about the note? Or would that be raising his hopes unfairly?
Austen located his stuffed rabbit behind a sofa cushion and came to lean against her. “Mama, will you write to Mr. Tennent and ask him to visit us? Tell him we could take my sailboat to the Basin.”
She put her arm around his shoulders. “You and I can take it with us today. We don’t need Mr. Tennent for that.”
“But I should like it if he came with us.”
She touched the strands of hair that had fallen against his forehead. “You don’t want to be with just your mama?”
“I should like it better if he came with us,” he repeated stoutly, unaware how the words cut her. Why did Julian have to die and leave Austen fatherless? There had been no confusion in her life then.
“Very well, we shall see what we can do. I’m sure you’ll see Mr. Tennent very soon. Now, run along and finish your lessons.” She kissed his forehead and gave him a little shove.
“All right, Mama.” He ran off, but at the door he paused. “Don’t forget to write to Mr. Tennent.”
“I won’t.”
When he left, she sighed and turned back to her desk. After rereading Nicholas’s letter, she picked up her pen and let it hover over her stationery a second more, debating her opening. Before she could decide, she heard the front door ring. Her heart began to pound. Could it be Mr. Tennent? Of course not, she scolded herself for acting like a silly schoolgirl.
At the soft knock on the parlor door, she twisted around in her chair. “Yes?”
The maid poked her head in. “It’s Mr. Carlisle, madam.”
Victor. She dismissed the slight annoyance at his unannounced visit so soon after seeing him the day before. He was her solicitor after all—at Geoff’s insistence. “Show him in.”
Victor strolled in, presenting his usual dandified appearance in a black broadcloth coat and finely checked trousers. “Hello there, Alice.”
She stood and smoothed her gown. “Hello, Victor, what brings you by today?”
He leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek and she had to brace herself against flinching. His cheek smelled of bay rum, a scent she’d never cared for. Ever since he’d become her solicitor, he’d become excessively attentive.
She’d spoken to Geoffrey about it, but her brother had pooh-poohed her concerns. “He’s like a brother to you! It’s nothing but a little harmless flirtation. Don’t be such a prude, Allie.”
Victor glanced down at her desk, and she had to refrain from moving in front of it to prevent him from seeing the note from Nicholas. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and see how you made it back.”
“How thoughtful of you.” She deliberately moved away from her escritoire and took a seat in an armchair, motioning for him to do the same. He sat down on the adjoining sofa and smoothed his brightly colored four-in-hand tie. “Been corresponding with that chap Tennent? You seemed a bit tight with him for such a short acquaintance.”
Deciding silence was the best defense, she sat straight, her hands folded in her lap.
Victor leaned back against the velvet upholstery and seemed to study the ceiling. “Curious how he suddenly popped back into London after all these years.” He shook his head and chuckled. “From lowly clerk to head of a company. Only in America does one see such things.”
“I think it shows his talent and energy.”
He lowered his face to gaze at her sidelong. “Or ruthless ambition.”
Alice swallowed, wanting to refute the allegation. Instead, she asked through stiff lips. “What do you mean?”
“A man with nothing doesn’t get to where he is without some cold-blooded maneuvers. I’ve heard he buys out any company that shows the least weakness, fires all the principals—‘restructuring’ he calls it—then incorporates it into his vast enterprise of Tennent & Company.” He shook his head. “One can’t help admiring his tactics, in a Neronian sort of way.”
“I don’t know how you can compare him to a ruthless Roman emperor, Victor. Just because he has made something of himself. I think it’s admirable.”
Victor let out a skeptical sniff. “Making something of himself is one thing. To go from a penniless young man to one who throws his wealth around—”
She gave a laugh, which came out sounding sharper than she’d intended. “Oh, come, you’re exaggerating. These things happen all the time in America.”
“Poor Allie, you’ve lived a sheltered life in the north with your curate. A man who puts up at the Savoy, installs himself in an office building in the heart of the city, drives in a newly purchased coach, and buys up companies as if they are weekly groceries doesn’t strike me as an innocent lamb. Even in America business is a ruthless affair.”
“If you’ve come to criticize Nicholas, you needn’t bother—”
“Ah-ha. So it’s like that, is it?” He sat up, eyeing her with his customary cynical amusement.
She blinked. “Like what?”
“Nicholas,” he mimicked. “Be careful, sweet Alice. You’ve been alone some time now and are vulnerable. Be careful you don’t give your heart to someone whose heart is as hard as granite.”
She stood up and walked away from him. “You are fancying things which are not there. I merely admire Mr. Tennent if he has made something of himself, and wished to make him feel welcome since his return.” She fingered the lace on her collar, keeping her back to Victor.
“Of course, dear, if that’s what you say. Anyway, I came by today to tell you that Cordelia and I wanted to have you over for dinner some evening this week.”
“I don’t know…” She hated those evenings, filled with a lot of worldly society couples whose interests were so far removed from her own. At the same time, she knew how valuable such connections were to the charity. It was her duty to continue to make these people aware of those less fortunate than themselves. “Let me look in my engagement book.” She crossed back to her desk. “Which evening were you thinking of?”
He came to stand behind her, so close she had no space to move away. “I’m not sure which evening Cordelia has in mind. Let me have her confirm with you.”
“Oh, very well.” She stifled her annoyance that he didn’t have a definite date in mind. Had he only come by to criticize Nicholas?
“There’s one other thing.”
She glanced at him, then quickly away when she found his face inches from hers. “Yes?”
“Your portfolio has taken a plunge lately. Bit of a recession on the market, you know. I’m afraid your income will be going down this quarter.”
“Oh.” She chewed her lip. Why did it always seem Victor took pleasure in being the bearer of bad tidings where her finances were concerned? “Well, it only means I shall have to be more careful of my expenditures.”
“Yes.” His hand came up to her face.
She jerked her head back. “What are you doing?”
“Just brushing away a stray lock.” He tucked the supposed strand of hair behind her ear, while she stood rigid. Despite that they had known each other as children, she was tired of the liberties he took. Lately, he was going too far.
She took a deliberate step back. “Well, if that is all, Victor, I have some things to attend to.”
“As do I, as do I.” Before she knew what he was about, he leaned in again and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
She flinched, and his low chuckle vibrated against her skin. “My, you are getting jumpy these days. Sure it’s not that Tennent making you so nervous?”
With a wave, he moved away from her. “I’ll see myself out. Cordelia will be in touch.” He sauntered away from her before she could think of a retort.
After he’d left, she took up Nicholas’s note once again and reread it. Then she picked up her pen.
Dear Mr. Tennent, Why not “Nicholas,” she asked herself? She decided she was letting herself go too quickly. There had been no one since Julian and there wouldn’t be.
She needed time to get a proper perspective on her newfound friendship with Nicholas Tennent.
I received your kind letter. There was no need of thanks. Both Austen and I enjoyed our weekend in Richmond and we thank you for your company.
If you would like to discuss a donation to the Society, why don’t you visit here at my residence later in the week? I suggest Thursday or Friday afternoon—
She deliberately set the date as far to the end of the week, and in the latter part of the day, denying herself the pleasure of seeing him sooner. With distance, her own feelings would have a chance to settle. And give Austen’s memory of his weekend adventures with Mr. Tennent an opportunity to fade as well.
You may let me know the date and time convenient to you by return post.
In the meantime, I remain, sincerely, your servant,
Alice Lennox
There, that was sufficiently businesslike without being unfriendly. She perused it one more time and before giving herself a chance to question or reword it, she quickly folded it and put it into an envelope. It would go out in the afternoon post. Or, perhaps tomorrow morning’s was better. She didn’t want to appear too eager. This was strictly about business.
Yes, tomorrow’s post was soon enough. He’d receive it by mid-morning and still have plenty of time to decide on seeing them by week’s end.
Nick frowned as his eyes skimmed down the contents of the brief note, beginning with “Mr. Tennent.” His disappointment deepened as he read “Thursday or Friday.”
He’d waited until late Monday afternoon, expecting an immediate response to his note to her. It was not until almost noon Tuesday that he’d received her reply, and now she was postponing a meeting until the end of the week.
Wasn’t she interested in a donation for her charity?
Or was it that she didn’t want to see him? He considered the various possibilities. Perhaps she didn’t want him to see her son?
Their ride back in the train from Richmond had been pleasant enough. As he’d foreseen, there had been no time for any meaningful conversation. Austen had taken up most of his attention, but the more the boy had chattered away with him, the more Nick had sensed Alice’s withdrawal. Could she possibly resent the boy’s attention?
He couldn’t fathom it and wanted to talk to her about it. But, he looked down at the note again; it seemed he would have little chance until Thursday or Friday. At least she wanted him to come to her house. He’d see Austen again. Funny how much he’d missed the little fellow.
He’d leave the entire afternoon free to spend with him. If Alice allowed him to.
He sighed and picked up his pen. He would request a meeting on Thursday at half-past two. That should still qualify as afternoon and not interfere with the lunch hour.
Alice paced the front parlor from a quarter past two onward. She stopped in front of the mirror hanging over the mantelpiece and adjusted the ruffled collar of her gown for the third time.
She tucked a stray strand of hair into her coiffure.
“Mama, I think I see him.”
She jumped at the sound of Austen’s voice. Her son had stood at the bow window for the last half hour. He craned his neck through the foliage of the potted plants, peering into the street below. One small hand held back the gauze outer curtain.
“Austen, please get away from the window.” She couldn’t help going over and glancing over his head.
He sighed. “No, it’s not him. I thought it was him.” The gentleman with the bowler hat and dark suit walked briskly by, swinging his walking stick back and forth over the pavement.
“Now, come away from the window.”
“Yes, Mama.” He let the curtain fall and walked beside her, dragging Moppet in one hand.
“Come, let’s read a storybook while we wait for Mr. Tennent. Now, remember, he is here to see Mama on business, so after greeting him and speaking a few minutes, you must excuse yourself. When he is ready to leave, I shall summon you again and you may say goodbye to him.”
His solemn eyes looked into hers as he settled beside her on the sofa. “Yes, Mama,” he said with a sigh.
Since their return to London, nothing she’d tried to engage Austen in could compete with his memories of the treasure hunt.
She picked up the edition of Coral Island, which she had hoped would assuage his desire for adventure. “Now, remember, when we last left Jack and Peterkin, their ship had been wrecked. Let’s see what happens when they awake.”
He settled beside her, putting a thumb into his mouth. She frowned at the habit he’d almost given up until this week. “The ship struck at the very tail of the island,” she read.
“Mama, you have to speak like a pirate when you read it.”
She looked down at Austen’s serious gaze and smiled. “Very well.”
But just as she turned back to the story, they both heard the doorbell ring.
Austen immediately scrambled off the sofa. “I know that’s Mr. Tennent. Mama, may I go out and greet him?”
She was about to impress upon him that one awaited one’s guests to be announced, but at the sight of his eager face, she didn’t have the heart. “Very well.”
She closed the book slowly as he ran off. Then she stood and smoothed her skirt, deafened to all sound but the hammering of her heart.
Nick was giving his name to the maid when a door opened to the side of the corridor and then Austen was running toward him. “Mr. Tennent!” The boy suddenly stopped short and hesitated, as if unsure at the last moment how he would be greeted. Nick smiled at him, feeling happier than he’d have imagined a moment ago at seeing the young boy, and squatted down.
Before he knew how it had come about, his arms were around the young boy, and Austen’s arms were about his neck.
“I didn’t think you’d ever be back,” he said against Nick’s collar.
Nick squeezed him a second before sitting back. “Of course I would. I told you I would.” He stood slowly and handed Austen the package he’d brought.
The boy’s eyes grew round. “Is this for me?”
He nodded.
Austen just stood staring at it.
“Well, why don’t you open it?”
The boy pulled at the string, then growing bolder, tore through the brown wrapping. He took out the navy blue captain’s hat with the gold anchor insignia at the front.
“Put it on and see if it fits.”
With wonder in his eyes, he set it on his head.
“Well? How does it feel?”
Austen’s mouth curled into a smile. “Just right. Is this a real captain’s hat?”
“It is. If we’re going to go sailing together, you’ve got to look the part.”
“Are we really going to go sailing?”
“Certainly.” He coughed softly. “That is, if your mother gives you permission.”
“Let’s ask her now.”
“Wait a minute. I have something for her, too.” He picked up the parcel he’d set down and took Austen by the hand. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since you returned to London.” With a glance at the maid, he crossed the threshold.
Austen tugged on his hand. “Mama is waiting for you in here.”
The maid shut the door behind him with a nod, and Nick allowed Austen to lead the way. She was waiting for him? That perhaps boded for good.
Alice stood by the sofa when he entered, her glance going from Austen to him and back again.
Nick advanced into the room, letting go of Austen’s hand when he reached Alice. He handed her the bouquet of roses he’d brought. “Hello, Alice.” Would she address him as Mr. Tennent?
“Oh, goodness, what’s this?”
He gave a nervous laugh. “Well, I hope their scent gives them away.”
She carefully drew aside the paper and gave a small gasp.
He cleared his throat. “I hope you like pink.”
“Oh, yes, indeed, I do.” She bent over the dozen pink roses and breathed in deeply. “They smell wonderful.” Her eyes lifted and she smiled. “Thank you.”
He felt the tension in him easing at her shy smile.
“Let me ring for someone to put them in water. Please, have a seat.”
Nick took a seat on the chintz sofa, listening to Austen show off his new cap to his mother.
Alice came back and took a seat in a nearby chair. She turned to her son, who’d come to sit beside Nick. “Austen, darling, Mama must talk with Mr. Tennent for a little bit. You may come back in a few moments and have your own visit.”
Nick bent and touched him on the shoulder. “Do as your mother says. Perhaps—” he spared her a brief glance “—we can do something together afterward.”
She pressed her lips together, as if the idea didn’t please her. Was she still holding the treasure hunt against him? They were silent as Austen dragged himself off the sofa and walked slowly to the door.
When it closed, Nick turned back to Alice. She sat with her hands folded primly on her lap. Before he could say anything, she said, “Mr. Tennent, thank you for coming.”
He felt a stab of disappointment—mingled with irritation—at the formal name and tone. Hadn’t they just enjoyed a weekend of getting reacquainted? “What happened to ‘Nicholas’?”
She averted her gaze. “I thought since we were meeting to discuss—uh—business, it was more businesslike.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Business? Since when is charity business?”
She met his eyes once more. “Isn’t it for you?” There was something in her tone.
“No.” When she didn’t reply, he said, “Thank you for—” he paused imperceptibly “—agreeing to see me.”
She looked down, so he was sure the inflection was not lost on her. “Well, yes, you said you wished to discuss a donation to the Society.”
He leaned forward. “Yes. I had in mind a donation to be able to build a row of terrace houses such as you showed me last week.”
She pursed her lips. “That would be a substantial cost.”
“I understand. It would only be an initial donation. I would like to see several such dwellings constructed in time.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled slightly. “You could ask how much the initial donation would entail.”
“Very well. How much did you have in mind?”
“One hundred thousand pounds.”
Her mouth fell open, as if she’d never heard of such a sum. “I beg your pardon.”
He repeated the sum.
Her eyes began to light up, realizing he was serious. Before Nick could feel the pleasure of the giver, the light faded. “You must be very wealthy to be able to afford so large a donation.”
“The Lord has prospered me in my time away from England.”
“Has he?”
He drew his eyebrows together at her tone. “You sound doubtful.”
“They say you are…aggressive in your business dealings.”
“I see.” What had she heard? Rising, he walked toward the window. “When one is successful in business, one makes enemies. One gets used to slander.”
She rose as well. “Is that all they are—rumors?”
He swung around to her. “Who have you been listening to?”
She made a vague gesture. “Businessmen.”
His jaw hardened, not liking the fact that she was so quick to doubt him. “Let me guess. Victor or your brother?”
“I trust Geoffrey’s judgment.”
His jaw hardened. So they were back to that. Her family against him. “Are you interested in the donation or not?”
“I shall have to discuss it with my board of trustees.”
His annoyance grew. “Then I shall let you get on with it.” He took out his pocket watch and snapped it open. “If you will permit me some time with Austen, I think we’ve concluded our business.”
She drew back and he had a moment’s remorse at the hurt look in her eyes. “I shall call for him.”
While she went to the bell pull, he turned away from her again and waited by the bow window, his hands clasped behind his back. Perhaps he’d been too hasty in his anger. But if she doubted him so quickly, what hope was there for them? And by that brother of hers, who’d probably rejoiced when she’d been disinherited. He shook his head in disgust.
The two waited in uneasy silence until the maid came.
“Please send Austen to me.”
“Yes, madam.”
When Nick felt the tension couldn’t increase anymore in the room, the door finally opened and Austen walked in, his sailboat already in his arms. “Hello, Austen. That didn’t take too long, now, did it?” His tone was gentle and friendly. No one would suspect he had a hard lump of anger in his chest.
He grinned. “No, sir.” Ignoring his mother, he walked over to Nick.
“Now, what would you like to do this afternoon?”
“May we go sailing?”
Nick’s glance went immediately to Alice. “If it’s all right with your mother.”
She twisted her hands together, clearly on the spot. Well, he felt no pity for her this afternoon. “Why don’t you do something here at home, darling?”
Austen looked down and didn’t say anything.
“I don’t mind taking him to sail his boat. Where do you usually go sailing, Austen?”
Nick’s quick words drew a smile from the boy. “The Round Pond.”
His mother frowned. “But that’s all the way in Kensington.”
“We can go in my coach,” put in Nick quickly. “It’s parked right outside.”
Her gaze went from his neutral one to her son’s, visibly torn. Nick hid his impatience and waited. If anyone was going to disappoint this boy, it wouldn’t be he.
“Please, Mama, mayn’t I go with Mr. Tennent?”
She drew in a deep breath. “Very well, but don’t be too long.”
Nick exhaled in relief. “We shan’t,” he promised with a small smile as a peace offering. “Come along, let’s be off.”
At the door, he patted Austen on the shoulder. “Wait for me at the front door.”
As soon as Austen had left, Nicholas turned to Alice, wanting to reassure her. “Thank you for trusting Austen to my care.”
She pressed her lips together, and he suddenly realized she was near tears. “He’s all I have,” she whispered.
The words tore at his heart, and he almost entreated her to go along with them. Instead, he reached his hand out and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I won’t let him out of my sight.”
She nodded wordlessly.
“We’ll be back soon. I shall await your committee’s decision.”
Nick put his disquiet aside and concentrated on helping Austen up into the landau. The little boy scrambled onto the seat at the front and bounced up and down on the red leather upholstery a few times. “Oh, I can look all around me.”
Both sides of the top had been folded down for the fine weather. Nick smiled up at him before addressing the coachman. “Take us through the park to the Round Pond.”
The coachman tipped his top hat at him. “Yes, sir.”
Nick climbed into the carriage and sat facing Austen. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since you returned from Richmond.”
The boy’s smile disappeared and shrugged. “Nothing much. Mama has engaged a governess to give me lessons and Nanny Grove takes me for a walk every day.” Austen’s gaze didn’t stay fixed on him but roamed over the parkland as they entered Hyde Park through Stanhope Gate and rode under an alley of plane trees.
As the boy chattered on, Nick allowed his thoughts to return to Alice. She seemed deeply distressed about allowing her son in his company. What had her brother been telling her about him? Nick intended to get to the bottom of it. His frown deepened, not liking the things his secretary had begun discovering about her father’s company.
“Do you think there’ll be enough wind to sail my boat?”
He forced his attention to the boy in front of him. “If not, we’ll go another day and today make do with towing her along by her string.”
“May we really go again another day?”
“Of course, why shouldn’t we?”
The little boy shrugged and looked out the side. “I don’t know. I’ve been asking Mama since we arrived home when you were going to visit.”
His deep sigh stirred Nick. Why hadn’t Alice replied sooner? He’d contacted her the day they’d returned. He remembered his own yearnings as a boy, how little they were ever satisfied until he’d become resigned to be content with his lot in life.
But why would Alice not want to indulge her son, when clearly the boy was lonely and in need of some male companionship?
His concern grew, and he had to strive to keep his tone light whenever he spoke.
Alice attempted to catch up on her correspondence while Austen was away. She usually reserved this time for Austen, and now found the time weighing heavily on her hands.
At the sound of carriage wheels, she rose from her desk and looked out the window, but it was only a passing coach. She forced herself to sit back down and pick up her pen again, determined not to behave the way she had over the treasure hunt.
Austen was in good hands, she repeated to herself. Nicholas, whatever he might be in business, seemed to genuinely care for her son. Her eyes drifted to the large bouquet of roses in the corner of her desk. She touched a soft petal, moved by the thoughtfulness of his gifts to both her and Austen.
Letting her pen drop, she bowed her head. Dear Lord, Forgive me for this worry. Help me to be unselfish toward my son. She thought of Julian and his gentle example of selfless love. He’d taught her to put her trust in God above all. She’d thought she’d succeeded as they lived always on the edge of poverty and had had to face death constantly with Julian’s illness.
It was only now that Austen’s affections were straying beyond the safe boundaries of his home that she was beginning to see how much she clung to him.
Forgive me, Lord. Grant me your grace. Show me who Nicholas Tennent really is. Is he the ruthless tycoon they tell me he is? Is he the best example for my Austen?
About an hour later, as soon as she heard a coach pull up in front of the house, she rushed to the window, careful to keep behind its lacy veil. She watched the two descend, Nick helping Austen down, then holding his hand and carrying his sailboat in the other. Austen chattered up the whole walk to the front door, exhibiting more animation than he did at home.
She couldn’t see them when they entered under the portico. The dim sound of the door penetrated to the parlor, and she held her breath, wondering if Nicholas would ask to see her. What would she say? Part of her wanted to run out into the hallway and see him again, part of her wanted to remain hidden.
But no one came. A few minutes later, she saw him return to his coach. Only then did her breathing return to normal. With a sigh, she turned to go to Austen, feeling more lonely than she had for a long time.