Gathered in my study, two of my daughters gasped. Poppy even hurried to use her handkerchief when taking the invitation letter.

She let out a squeal but immediately countered it when she remembered herself.

Her eyes set on mine, she begged.

I would never deny her. I wanted to remind her that the chances were slim. We had nothing regal with which to stand apart from other guests—I refused to use Edmond a second time.

But she looked happy and I was, therefore, happy for her.

The excited chatter died away when Poppy's eyes settled on Cinderella.

Cinderella did not return anyone's gaze. Instead, she stared forward and declared, "I do not want to go."

Only Edmond seemed concerned. He opened his mouth to say something, but the cook put her hand on his arm and affirmed, "If that's your choice."

And then Edmond looked at me and I returned his stare. I did not know what to do. So I did nothing.

Instead, I was focused on the hand holding his arm. Had she had permission?

"How did you come about this invitation, pray tell?" I challenged.

Cook beamed. "One of the maids in the palace is my cousin." She cast her gaze at Edmond when she told him, "And I fulfilled your request exactly as you instructed."

My body burned hot, but this passion looked like something I'd never borne witness to. The loving way she patted his shoulder next broke my heart.

Edmond held her hand, in plain view of everyone, and smiled. "We are in your debt."

"It's the only one I could get, so please take care with it."

"Of course."

And then she touched his forehead then held his face, an action that had the girls giving a gentle gasp.

Me? I was frozen. The cook cut me a glance and I swallowed my protest. She was doing this on purpose—baiting me.

I'd let her have this victory.

"Come," Edmond said, "I'll see you off."

For lack of something better to do, I took to clearing the table further. That was when I saw Arabella's medicine. Although I was certain the bottle came from no reputable doctor, I considered for a moment that I could try it on poor Edmond. No sooner than I thought to pick it up, Cinderella thundered in and snatched it away.

My readied protest was met with panic. "The cats! He's been awfully tired lately! This will heal him, and he'll stand a fighting chance."

Reluctant at first, I gave into her pout with a sigh. She stampeded into the hall, making a terrible ruckus as she went to her friend's rescue.

As Edmond, who deceivingly assured me of his fine health, was winded for the better part of the day, Cook decided to take her rare day off and spend it preparing dinner for us instead of leaving.

How...very generous of her.

The sweet fragrance of supper filled me with loathing. While the girls and I dined in the proper room, faint murmurs came from the kitchen.

Cook and Edmond ate together and when the day was finally at an end, she met him in the yard and took him by the hand. From my bedroom window, I folded the sheets but caught sight of them, entirely without intent, of course.

They spoke for some time, laughing with one another now and then. By the time she took her leave, I'd folded and refolded the sheets perhaps twenty times.

Edmond went to the servants' quarters, a fact that hurt me.

I'd asked him to stay in the house for his own benefit, after all.

The moment I saw him march from the little path and into the house with a small bag, all feelings of anger faded. But where would he stay? The family room would be inappropriate, as well as the study.

There were no free bedrooms he'd dare inhabit.

When the answer finally came to me, I threw down the sheet and raced from the room, my shoes stamping on the hardwood floor much like Cinderella's.

I made it to the cellar in time to see him descend the last step and look around, surprised.

With the door still agape, I closed it to keep the readied shouts from leaving this place.

"Let me explain!" I said.

But in my haste to reach him, I had no power to counteract his action when he dropped his things and yanked me to him.

This hold felt different from the others. His dark eyes scanned the dreary room, lighted by only one window.

"I cleaned it," I began but the rest of my excuses retreated back down my throat. All that was left was a gentle, "I don't want you to misunderstand."

He still held me as he smiled. "Did you have something specific in mind for me down here?"

My lips parted as confusion gripped me. When he tugged up my skirt and traced my stockings, my breath caught.

"Or have I misunderstood?"

His touch lit me up and I breathed out, "You certainly haven't misunderstood."

If one time was spontaneity, twice was a gift. It was even better than the night before. Tonight though, I was atop him, and that was where I rested as he stroked my arm and back.

Could this moment freeze in time?

"I've rehired the cook," he said, "I hope that is all right."

Dread filled me. "You were cooking just fine."

He gave no answer. Today had been frightening, and not just a little. Why did it feel as if he were drifting away? As if this was brief and dreamlike? Why did it feel like a precursor to his departure?

"Edmond?"

"Hmm?"

Everything said leave it at this, but I had to know. "Did you ever find out what happened to Raphael?" I asked.

His body tensed but he answered, "Yes. But I do not want to get into that now."

Disappointed, I said, "I cannot believe he'd never returned for you."

For a long moment, Edmond gave no response. Finally, he admitted, "He came back."

I tried to lean away to see him, but he held me in place.

Of course, I needed no verbal inquiry, he understood my curiosity.

"After he left here, he went into town and enlisted."

A gasp escaped me. "He went to war?"

"There are few jobs for people like us. And he had his freedom, and he was not one for servitude."

I eased closer and he tightened his grip.

"He didn't come out unscathed, but he came out of the war alive," he assured me. Finally, he added, "But without his left arm. And he was afraid of what you two would say. So please don't be angry that he never sought you out. You were married then, and moved away."

As relieved as I was to hear that he came to no mortal injury, I was still saddened by the news. War was harmful, even for those who'd won it. The idea of sweet and playful Raphael with a rifle hurt my heart.

"He was an excellent marksman," Edmond told me. He pressed his lips against my forehead and muttered, "And became so successful that the king himself rewarded him with a patch of land."

Pride dripped from Edmond's words but with something else. I risked asking, "Had you forgiven him for leaving you behind?"

Edmond wrapped both arms around me. "When he came back? No. But now? Yes. I've forgiven him."

"If—"

He took a kiss and my body blushed.

"You shouldn't stay here all night," he whispered.

He was right.

My eyes drifted to the lone window of the cellar. Night had long come. I didn't want to, but I had to think of Gareth. "It's been days. One can only wonder how much he's spent."

I feared him coming home. Flashes of a violent future came and went of him walking in on us even now, naked, tangled with one another. But to have the man I married living under the same roof as the man I shared my bed with.... What a disgrace.

I prayed Edmond would not leave.

"We must find Gareth," I said.

For a long moment, Edmond said nothing. Remaining quiet was so like him. It was his habit, even now, when he did not want to say something unpleasant.

"Speak freely," I begged.

And then he demanded, "Why search?"

His tone tore a gasp from me. Perhaps he wasn't like the Edmond of old after all. How much had changed in the last seventeen years? He had to be reasonable. Rumors could spread, affecting even my daughters' reputations and by extension their futures.

"We are on the brink. I am one step away from robbing carriages at dusk like some bandit. We are on the brink," he repeated, defeat all too evident. "Simply leave him where he is."

He said the truth.

In the company of all others, I would remember my manners. But this was Edmond and there'd been few secrets between us. He was the first, the only person, I had told about my impending birth to Cinderella when I had no knowledge of what to do. He'd been the one to convince me of my innocence, despite what had happened, and that it wasn't strange or sick to want to give love to a child born with no father. But that was why I'd told Edmond, because no one else would have said all those kind things to me or showed me my untarnished value. So why...why was he thinking so irrationally now?

I leaned away to see what I could of him in the dim light. The lamp rested some distance away still.

"That's less for kindness and more for calculation. He's spending and running up tabs that we will all have to eventually answer for." I admitted, "I'd rather not have him here either, but best if we know the damage he's done to us financially in such a short span of time."

What little emotion I could make out of his expression softened. He agreed.

Nothing further need be said between us.

But he gave a slight bow and told me, "It's dark out. I can use that to my advantage. I'll take a horse and go look for him."

Poor Edmond did not want to go, and to be fair, I did not want him to either, but we needed to know where the man of the house was. Depending on the establishment, I could devise a way to retrieve him, preferably before he built up too big a tab.

We dressed and I made my way to my room, much like a thief in the night.

Edmond assured me he would not stop in town, but rather, pass by and see if he could recognize one of our horses then return.

It was nearly midnight when hoof steps galloped in from Edmond's horse. I awoke and boxed my hair from my eyes in time to see the lamp light racing toward the house.

After readying myself, I met Edmond at the door. He'd found Gareth and I'd better come quick.

My new husband had not made it back from town, though he'd tried. Instead, he'd fallen off his horse and down an embankment. So drunk had he been, that he could not drag himself back out.

The sight of his graying face meant he'd been dead a few days.

"Blast him," I breathed out.

Edmond nodded, agreeing, "Another funeral."

One we could not afford. Never mind the amount of money he'd just wasted. But it was the time of mourning we truly could not allow. There would be no parties for a year. And certainly no royal ball.

I stared down at that body for ages before I turned to Edmond and declared, "Fetch the wagon and some stone for weights. We're going to the river."