Gregory leaned in until his brow touched against hers. “Are you ready to take flight, little raven?” And then…his thumb brushed once along the base of her spine, a touch that somehow steadied and stirred.
She gave a shaky nod.
His lips curled in a smile, the rare real one that left her feeling a whole foot taller.
Gregory took her hand, warm and steady, and kissed her wrist as though to anchor her before letting go.
Just as he made to hand her up, they were swarmed by Kearsleys with words of well-wishes and tears intertwined.
Daria’s throat closed up, as her family’s display, on this heavily traveled street of London no less, threatened to drag her down.
Strong, sure hands wrapped about Daria’s waist—the touch electric, burning her through her gown and cloak.
And then they were inside with the panel closed. The Kearsleys vociferous display continued, only this time muffled.
Daria took in a deep breath and settled her hands upon her lap. As she collected herself, she studied this man whom she’d bound herself to in name and, soon, in body.
At the window, Gregory managed the wide smile and cheerful wave Daria could not. What reason would he have to do so?
She studied him in silence. If he was as unfeeling and cold as the world—and he—professed him to be, then why put on a display for her worried family? What did it—?
The carriage lurched and, along with it, Daria’s stomach.
“Wait!”
A child’s cry sharp enough to travel London went up.
The team settled.
As the Kearsleys raced after Eris, the little girl had already yanked the door open and flung herself at Daria.
Making soothing sounds, she held her sister close.
“You cannot die yet!” she rasped into Daria’s chest. “You have to live many, many, many, many years,” she said, with Daria stroking her back. “Until…until…your hair is white like Anwen’s!”
Her lips curved.
“And…you have to be happy with him. I think you might be. Or you could,” her sister rambled.
Daria’s gaze found Gregory. He wore the oddest look.
“And he does not strike me as such a bad chap. He is pretty good with children like myself.”
Stunned, she whipped her focus between her husband and sister. His eyes, shielded by the long fringe of his lashes, revealed nothing.
“And he knows Adam Smith and Charle—”
Clayton interrupted the rest of their sister’s fascinating revelation. “Eris, it is time for Daria to leave for her new—”Home. His voice betrayed him.
Eris looked at the three silent adults.
“Daria will live at his club?” The little girl twisted the blade deeper in their brother, and his features spasmed. “May I visit?”
A knot formed in Daria’s throat as that question hammered home the important detail she’d neglected to consider. Her sisters could never, would never, visit her—
“Eris,” Clayton said thickly, “we will talk—”
Gregory leaned across the bench to put his nose closer to Eris’s. “What if I promise you can meet your sister anytime youwant, and at locations far better? Parks. Gunther’s.” Gregory did not barter or plead. He simply laid the world at Eris’s feet, as though it were his to give. “My London manor?”
