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In his absence now, she wondered if he’d known love from anyone? He’d never spoken of family. Never sought her out, either. She’d been the one searching, had she not? Perhaps she was alone in her childish and silly endeavors to be at his side. It could very well be that he’d held no affection for her.

All at once, her thoughts, and ultimately realizations, threatened to crush her.

“Dearest girl, you look unwell. Please come. Sit beside me. You are nearly swaying on your feet.” Mama’s words cut into the haze of misery that flooded her mind.

Orris did not reply. Admittedly, she was overcome. Instead of replying, she walked over to the sofa, her feet heavy, as if she were wading in a sea of despair. She fell into the mauve cushions and let out an aggravated sigh. How could she have been so foolish? A metal clamp seized her heart, forcing her to rub at the spot absently.

She would truly be alone as she attempted to navigate the rigors of the beau monde, no one at all to confide in. With her eldest sister, Myrtle, off with her viscount husband, she would find no solace with her sister Violetta, who grew more like Mama than ever. All they ever worried about was the marriage mart, the vile men who posed as eligible bachelors, and reputations.

Mama leaned over, placing a hand over Orris’s before running the other over her face before propping herself forward, as if what she was about to relay were sincere. “I know Thomas was a good friend to you. And while I realize this may appear callous, your friendship was not viewed favorably in society. Neither for you nor Thomas. I would caution you to quiet your sorrow. Anyone could make something more of this than necessary…”

Frustration roiled deep in Orris’s belly. For a brief moment, she’d thought Mama had been concerned with her needs, and not that of their family reputation. Silly, silly child. “I think I shall retire for the day,” she confessed, rolling away from her mother. No more than a year before, Orris had thought she’d understood Mama. Her mother had certainly been on the outside of society as an opera singer. Before wealth… For Orris, being accepted only after the betterment of her reticule was no acceptance at all.

“It is still early yet, dearest. We were going to promenade today. There are so many people to see and—”

“Mama, please,” Orris started, only to remember her place. “I shall rest today and be prepared on the morrow.”

Mama raked her eyes over Orris as she stood, suspicion etched across her timeless face. “If you insist. I will have your dinner brought up to you. Mrs. Andreas will tend to you herself.”

Despite the tension behind her eyes, Orris managed a weak smile. She wanted to be angry, but with whom? Was it Thomas who deserved her ire, or Mama? Perhaps Uncle Tolliver? After all, he was the one who had offered him a position in Chicago.

“Very well,” said her mother. “Violetta and I will go on without you. It shan’t be nearly as fun. You are the most entertaining of us. Unbridled humor, as your father used to say, rest his soul. I do hope you feel better soon.”

Never allow it to be said of Mama that she wasn’t liberal with the application of guilt. “Of course. I will be sure to break fast at the dawn.”

“I shall hold you to that, Orris.”

Ensuring her smile was affixed until she turned away from Mama, Orris hurried from the room. To seek her mother’s solace in such a matter had been a fool’s errand. There would be no sympathy for her.

She used the door through which she’d entered on the other end of the parlor. Their new home was palatial, a newly built beauty on Park Lane. Mama had been thrilled with the gift from her son-in-law, Samuel Fredericks, Viscount Fredericks. He was an amiable enough brother-in-law to Orris, yet she hated the pomp and circumstance of moving into a proverbial castle when they could have very well owned a townhome. She could get lost in these ivory walls. What would it have mattered if she were to remain friends with Thomas when they could have lived on an estate of that size for years without ever being noticed?

Orris climbed the stairs, weary and bereft of companionship. No one understood her. No one. Her one accomplice had been Myrtle, the eldest of the Gray sisters. Now, she was gone from Orris’s daily life, too. Her cousins had seemed to take to Violetta more. No matter, for at the time, Orris was preoccupied with teaching Thomas to bulldog, along with other rodeo tricks the hands had taught her in Texas, a keenly American way of riding horses.

Piss! The horses. Who would lend them to her in his absence? The revelation burned through her chest. The whole ordeal had upset her entire life.

Releasing the skirts of her dress as she reached the stairs, she smoothed them as if there would be someone to impress. The hallway loomed ahead of her, feeling as empty as her spirit.

Once to her room, she shut the door until it rested in the jamb. Slamming it closed would have served no purpose aside from momentary release of anger. If there was no one to hear it clatter and split the silence, why would she?

Her room had already been made up, but the desire to crawl back into bed persisted. Rather than burden the household staff, she dragged the chair from her writing desk to the window of her bedroom. Watching the birds flit about in the pools of rainwater left over from earlier showers was a good distraction. Their lives were carefree, as they were only concerned with what God intended for them.

Orris wondered if she ever could one day be the same…

Before she was able to completely drown in her lake of sorrows, a loud thud erupted from the closet, startling her.

“Miss, are you well?” The owner of the voice was unknown to her but likely a household maid she’d yet to meet. There were so many around these days.

“All is well,” she said, waving them off, even if they hadn’t opened the door. Whatever it was, be it toppled-over dress boxes she hadn’t bothered to open or some ridiculous bustle clattering to the floor, she would deal with it. There was no overwhelming urge to be fussed over.

She did not make haste to uncover the disturbance. Instead, she watched as two starlings circled one another before diving to the ground and pecking at the loose earth from spring planting.

When another rustle came through the door, she broke away from the beloved birds. The source of the crash had been innocuous, surely.

She grasped the knob of the armoire, but it did not come free. Positioning her weight on her back leg, she pulled harder to release the door. When she did, it flew free, dresses, skirts, and underpinnings tumbling out and spilling on the floor, just as Orris had anticipated. She had not anticipated the onslaught of fabric to take her down with it. A little yelp escaped her as pain lit in her ankle. Curses slipped from her mouth, and she raised onto her elbows. She watched as the tide of fabric overwhelmed the space.

With a sigh, she tried to stand, only to be stopped before she could rise from her unceremonious tumble. “What—” Shock and dismay choked the words from her chest.

The young woman pulled a pair of gloves from her hair and moved the crinoline from her chest as she sat up. “Hi, Cousin Orris,” she said. She wasn’t dressed as a lady ought to be. Instead, she wore clothes similar to porters on ships.