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She remembered the sound of tearing fabric, her gasp of surprise swallowed by his hungry mouth, the cool air on her exposed skin.

She pressed the dress to her chest, inhaling deeply, searching for his scent. But it wasn’t there.

* * *

Day 17

She walked by the Serpentine at dawn, mist rising from the water like ghosts. A family of ducks glided past, trailing ripples. Even they moved as a unit, together. The emptiness beside her felt sharper than ever.

She remembered Robbie running along the stream back at the estate, searching for beetles, Jacob by his side.

She had watched from a few feet away, drinking in the sight of them, stealing the feeling of belonging to a family.

Now those days seemed impossibly distant.

She turned away, hurrying home before the fashionable crowd awoke and spotted her—her blond hair returning, her face slowly returning to the woman she once was.

As she reached her door, she saw a post boy hovering outside, shifting from foot to foot.

He thrust a folded note at her. “For you, miss. I’m told to wait for the reply.”

She opened it right there, her fingers trembling. A single word nestled inside: Help.

Honoria let out a deep breath.

Good. She hadn’t wanted to go against Lady Bradshaw’s wishes—but she would have, if necessary.

“Wait here,” she told the boy.

She hurried inside, scribbled brief, clear instructions, and returned to the door.

Pressing the paper and a coin into the boy’s palm, she said, “Give this to no one but the woman who gave you that note. Understand?”

He nodded and dashed off.

* * *

Day 21

Honoria went for a walk one last time before putting her plan into motion. Today was the day.

She aimlessly wandered the streets of London, yet her feet somehow brought her to Caldwell’s townhouse.

She hadn’t even realized where she was until she stopped a few feet away. Keeping her distance, she watched as the servants bustled about, loading trunks onto a waiting carriage.

A pang pierced Honoria’s heart. Sharp, unexpected, and enough to make her stumble.

They were leaving London. Heading to the country estate, perhaps, until the next season.

Leaving her behind, just as she’d asked them to.

But it felt too real now. The next time she walked by this house, they would be gone.

She wiped away her tears and turned, walking briskly in the opposite direction.

She needed to collect her bearings.

No more crying.