PROLOGUE
ST. JOHN’S WOOD, LONDON.
Peeking her head out of one of the few backdoors of her aunt and uncle’s substantial home in St. John’s Wood, young Evelina Frampton took her chance, hiked up her skirts, and dashed across the lawn and into the woods.
This fraction of time, between her pianoforte tutor's arrival and her French lessons, between her aunt’s daily naps and the nursemaid’s jaunts to town, was the only part of her day she could see him—Ash. The mysterious, mute boy who lived in the woods.
Mud splattered on her petticoat as she ran over the wet lawn, but she did not stop; she had to see him. Dashing in further, ducking into the forest, ignoring the rough twigs, roots, and rocks under her thin kid soles, she neared the tall oak she had climbed many times.
“Oh, Ash,” she murmured, peering through the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. “I hope you will come along this eve.”
Folding her skirts, Ellie sat against the rough bark of a tree, pulling up the tall grass beside her and braiding them into a thick strand to pass the time. Her eyes occasionally darted up to look for Ash.
Ash was not his real name, but rather a moniker for she did not know his true name. She named him Ash for the color of his hair, a strange pale blond that middled the bright flaxen hair many people had, and the mysterious platinum shade some women were naturally gifted with.
The almost imperceivable crunch of twigs under shoes had Ellie looking up to find the mute boy arriving in the distance; his worn boots were tucked into his faded trousers, while his shirt was untucked and loosened at the collar. His pale hair was a beacon that drew her eyes in the low light.
Her heart leaped. “You came!”
He nodded, his lips taking on the slightest curve before he gently lowered to sit beside her. When he drew his knees up, she noticed a faded bruise on his cheek.
“Oh, Ash,” she sighed sympathetically, getting to her knees and reaching out to touch his bruised skin—but wavering before her fingertips landed. “Are you hurt again?”
Nodding, Ash leaned his face into her touch, and she grazed the sallow skin. Months ago, when she had first met him, he had looked at her as if she were a wild doe, unwilling to come near her.
In the days—and months— that followed, he’d be willing to come to her side, especially when she bemoaned the many lessons she was forced to endure every day.
“How did this happen?” she asked, pushing back his hair from his ear as the bruise had receded up to his temple.
He did not say a word, as per usual.
Ash wasn’tthatmuch older than her—at her best estimate, she assumed he was ten-and-four, or possibly a year older, to her ten years.
“Are you in pain?” She tried her best not to press too hard on the bruised skin.
He shook his head.
“I have a balm at home that might fade the ugly bruise,” she murmured. “I can go and get it if you wa—”
Ash shook his head forcibly and fixed his fingers around her wrist—wordlessly telling her to stay put. The callouses on his palms and fingertips told her he worked to get by. Every lord’s son had hands as soft as suede.
For every one thing she knew of Ash, there were a dozen things she remained in the dark about.
Weeks ago, when she had carried a basket of food to share, he’d loved the plain oat cakes but hated the ones with currants. He chose the fresh fruits over the pudding and ate the meat pies with gusto. The little drams of spices and wine she’d stolen away had been accepted… only after she’d taken a sip.
“All right, all right, I’ll stay,” Ellie assured. “I still want to get you that balm, though.”
She leaned her head onto his shoulder, “I do wish I could see you more than these times we sneak out to see each other. Well,Isneak out, I do not know if you need to slip away from your folks. Er… I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”
Twisting her head, she asked, “Do you have folks? I have this feeling that you might be all alone. Are you all alone?”
He swallowed tightly, then nodded.
Pained, Ellie hugged him. “I am so sorry. I do wish there was a median of having overbearing guardians like my aunt and uncle, and you not having anyone. Every child should have that, shouldn’t they?”
His arm came up and wrapped around her shoulder, sparking butterflies into a storm under her breastbone. Ash scarcely showed emotion, and him hugging her made her blurt, “I think I love you.”
He pulled away, but only so far as to meet her eyes and search them. Before she lost her nerve, Ellie added, “I care for you a lot, Ash, and e-even if I don’t know your real name, I want us to get married when we are older. Wouldn’t—would you like that too?”
