*Ben* Having spotted the cars from an upstairs window, I have escorted Skye outside so we can welcome our guests. I am not surprised that the four cars arrive at the same time. I assumed that my friends would meet up so they could arrive together in order to receive the same first impression of my wife. I don’t know why Skye’s nervousness calls to my protective nature. Perhaps because since she came to my home she has been so fiercely independent, standing toe to toe with me, that I assumed she never have doubts, never waver, never have second thoughts. I don’t like her appearing vulnerable, susceptible to hurt. Had I opened my door to see the worry in her eyes and the number of times she licks her lips while waiting for the cars to draw to a halt, I might have taken more pity on her that first day. I still wouldn’t have allowed her to marry my father, but things between us might have started out on a different foot. “You have nothing to prove to them”. I say quietly, and she snaps he

*Ben* I can’t remember ever being with a woman who makes my chest swell with pride. I had certainly not expected it of Skye when I married her, but then nothing about my marriage to her is as I predicted. Well, except for what passes in the bedchamber. I had judged her abilities correctly there. But I didn’t anticipate that she would be an outstanding hostess. During dinner, the food was splendid, the wine excellent, and the conversation pleasant. It didn’t matter who was discussed, Skye was familiar with them not personally but based on their exploits captured in the tabloids and news. She has mentioned before that she reads them, but now I am beginning to think the woman devours them. I make a mental note to begin having some delivered from New York. I also need to order some more recent music sheets. The ones my wife now uses to entertain us in the music room are remnants from my mother. Skye seems perfectly content with them, but I do wonder what sort of music she would prefer

*Ben* I wait as long as I can. When the ladies don’t return straightaway to inform me that all is well, I head upstairs and barge into the bedchamber without bothering to knock. That Minerva and Julia are sitting on either side of Skye, holding her hands, causes cold dread to wash over me. While I have never witnessed a deathbed scene, what I see is exactly how I imagine it would be. Skye’s cheeks hold no rosy hue. Her eyes don’t light up with challenge at my arrival. My father likes Skye immensely. I don’t know if my sire would survive losing her if she is to succumb to an illness and become another woman who has died too young within this residence. “I’ll send for a physician,” I bark, despising that I seem unable to react with any sort of rational thought. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Minerva says, rising to her feet, smiling softly. The smile unmans me. “What’s wrong with her then?” “We’ll let her tell you.” As Minerva and Julia walk out, I try to take solace in the fa

*Skye* May arrives with warmer weather than usual. I can’t bear the thought of cleaning rooms when I can enjoy the sun warming my face. Kneeling, inhaling deeply, I take satisfaction in the fragrance of freshly turned earth. Except for a brief respite for lunch, I have spent the day working on bringing the garden back to life. The next time we have guests, I want to be able to invite them for tea on the terrace. So earlier this morning, once Ben left for the mines, I went into the village, visited with those who have gorgeous flowers blooming, and asked for some cuttings from their favorite plants. I have never been the beneficiary of such generosity from strangers, and I left feeling as though I were accepted by the villagers, as though I truly belong here. Then when I returned to the house I set the servants to work. The servants and stable boys are making great progress hacking at the brambles and overgrowth. The maids are pulling up the unwanted vegetation. Marsden, bless him,

*Skye* A month later, as the car rolls into New York, I fight to keep my apprehension hidden. Long, slow, deep breaths have been the order of the journey. As well as a mantra commanding myself to relax. It is highly unlikely that I will cross paths with Montie, that he will discover I returned. And if he does, it is possible that he wouldn’t care after all these months. He has no doubt forgotten all about me, moved on to someone else. He has never been one to do without and he likes nothing more than a woman’s company. In order not to forgo pleasure, he would have replaced me quickly enough. I am rather certain of that fact, as I no longer have any delusions regarding what I had meant to him: nothing particularly special. In truth, Ben makes me feel more treasured than Montie ever had. “Where did you live?” At the unexpected question disturbing the quiet, I jerk my attention to my husband, who sits across from me. We have spoken very little during the journey, which suited me, as