The next morning, Laura Pendleton’s luggage was loaded onto the carriage.

All the members of Dunville Park came out to the front of the mansion to see Laura off. Laura kissed her tearful, puffy-faced siblings one by one and tightly hugged Olivia Fairfax, who was grinning and telling her to have fun. After bowing politely to the master and mistress of the house, she climbed into the carriage.

As the carriage set off, Laura leaned out the window. The Fairfax family waved at the departing carriage. Laura waved back until they were out of sight.

A heavy sadness lingered in Laura’s chest. She realized that the people of Dunville Park had become as dear and comforting as family to her.

But as the mansion faded from view and the forest surrounding Dunville Park grew distant, Laura felt her heart gradually lighten. Though she had parted with precious people, she was also moving away from her greatest fear.

“I won’t have to meet Ian Dalton for a while.”

Laura trembled with relief.

Since the kiss in the carriage, facing Ian Dalton again had become the most terrifying thing to Laura, second only to death. The moment he’d clung to her, soaking her dress with tears, the broken lid that had been sealing Laura’s emotions had come off entirely, hinges and all.

With the lid gone, a flood of emotions poured out of her heart. Love, the desperate yearning and desire only love could bring, its sweetness and charm. Like a princess in a fairy tale, cursed to sleep forever until awakened by a knight’s kiss, the vivid joy dormant within Laura had stirred and claimed her as its master.

It no longer mattered that he’d deceived her or acted recklessly to win her acceptance of his proposal. She wanted to give herself to him entirely. To be his forever. To give him love, bear his children, and offer her very life.

Such feelings were entirely new to Laura.

If she saw him again, she knew she’d be powerless to resist. She wouldn’t dare say no to his proposal, nor could she remove a ring he forced onto her finger. Even without threats of death, a single plea from him would have her swearing before a pastor to be his wife, dressed in a wedding gown.

“I can’t make him happy.”

As his wife, she would be happy. Loved by him, building a beautiful home together, sharing a life—it would be a miracle.

But for him, having her would be a loss. He would face scorn. His children would face scorn because of her.

If she had something to offset the humiliation and inconvenience he’d endure—great wealth or a title like a duke’s daughter, something tangible in this world—she might have found the courage. But all she had was her humble self.

In the end, he would regret marrying her.

“He’s human, too. No matter how much he loves me, when passion fades and inconveniences pile up with little gain, he’ll regret it. He’ll wish he could turn back time to before the marriage.”

Love was a dream, but marriage was reality. This was Laura’s conclusion after observing hundreds of couples in London.

She had never hated her powerless position as much as she did now.

Feeling dejected, Laura shook her head and straightened her back. She gazed out the window. The carriage was passing a gentle hill where sheep grazed among rocks and dry grass.

In two hours, she’d reach the train station. Once in Bath, she’d keep busy. She’d eat hearty meals, read plenty of books, and take frequent walks.

Mrs. Fairfax had said that out of sight meant out of mind. Laura hoped those words would apply to her, too.

Sighing, Laura glanced at her pocket watch to check the time. Just as she was about to look away from the window, a sleek black horse-drawn four-wheeled carriage appeared over the hill.

“Oh…”

Laura covered her mouth with her hand. Though far away, she recognized the Whitefield family crest on the carriage.

With a pounding heart, Laura watched the receding carriage anxiously. Through the window, she glimpsed him, elbow resting on the frame, chin in hand.

The carriage seemed headed for Dunville Park. The reason for his visit was obvious. To propose again, no doubt. She was immensely relieved he hadn’t seen her carriage.

As he disappeared, Laura let out a breath of relief. Her heart calmed. Or so she believed.

Even as her heart raced and the sensation of his kiss lingered on her lips, Laura wanted to believe she was at ease.

This continued as she reached the train station and boarded the train to Bath. Eating two plates of mutton in the dining car and forcing conversation with other passengers to distract herself, a strange flush colored her cheeks.

It was as if Ian Dalton were right in front of her. Holding her waist, pulling her face close, kissing her.

She tried to forget him, but it was no use. Her heart was already entirely his.

The carriage stopped in front of Dunville Park’s mansion. Sitting in his seat, Ian Dalton adjusted his tie. Dressed in a deep green suit and freshly shaved, his face shone brightly, free of the fatigue of recent days.

It was the face of a man who’d won his beloved’s first kiss and confirmed her heart.

Smoothing his neatly combed hair, he silently repeated the words he’d been reciting endlessly of late.

“Laura loves me.”

A thrill swept through him. His heart warmed, and his stomach felt satisfied, like after a hearty meal following starvation.

The coachman opened the door and lowered the step.

Humming a tune, Ian picked up the items beside him. An enormous bouquet and a rosewood box embossed with morning glory patterns.

Yesterday, after the guests had left, he’d picked flowers from the greenhouse to make this bouquet. Thanks to the power of love, perhaps, the bouquet boasted a harmonious beauty despite his lack of floral training.

The wooden box contained a set of keys that opened every room in Whitefield. Only he and the butler, Ramswick, possessed such sets, and Ian had brought his own to give to Laura.

Of course, he hadn’t forgotten the diamond ring she’d rejected. It rested safely in his breast pocket.

Ian, holding gifts for his beloved in both hands, stepped out of the carriage. With a smile, he strode quickly into the mansion.

He headed to the drawing room to find his sister. But there, instead of playing outside, Daniel Fairfax and George Fairfax sprawled on the sofa, their faces puffy from crying.

“What are you doing?”

Startled by their uncle’s sudden appearance, the boys shot up, sitting straight. Ian noticed they were on the verge of tears.

“Did your mother refuse you snacks?”

They shook their heads.

“Then what?”

George suddenly burst into sobs. Daniel bit his lip, barely holding back tears, but they streamed down his face.

These weren’t boys who cried easily. Ian grew anxious, fearing they might be gravely ill.

“Daniel, what’s wrong?”

When their stern uncle frowned and asked, Daniel opened his mouth, swallowing sobs.

“…Hic, sob… Teacher…”

“Teacher?”

Ian’s face twisted instantly.

“Speak clearly. What about Teacher?”

Daniel couldn’t continue through his sobs. Ian rushed to him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

“Tell me! What happened? Is she hurt? Sick?”

“Sob… She left! She… left us!”

Unable to hold back, Daniel wailed louder than George.

Dropping the bouquet and box, Ian bolted from the drawing room. Taking the stairs four at a time, he reached the second floor and burst into his sister’s private room.

His sister, Mrs. Fairfax, sat in a rocking chair, warming herself by the fireplace. She barely reacted to her brother’s sudden entrance.

“Wondered when you’d show up.”

“Laura left? Is it true?”

“Yes.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“Why didn’t you stop her? You should’ve told me when she planned to leave!”

“And then what would you say? Would you have brought a pistol to your temple and started a proper suicide show? After that stunt, did you expect her to stay, you fool?”

“…No. She couldn’t have left… She loves me…”

“What’s that now?”

“She loves me! On the carriage ride from Whitefield to Dunville Park, we confirmed our hearts. She accepted my kiss!”

Mrs. Fairfax looked at him skeptically.

“She didn’t just give in because you threatened her?”

“She stroked my head. She said it. She said it hurt her to see me cry.”

“Oh, that’s somewhat believable.”

Ian was on the brink of madness. To leave after confirming their love? When only days of happiness remained—why?

He strode toward the rocking chair and grabbed his sister’s shoulders, wrapped in a fox-fur shawl.

“Where did Laura go?”

“Think I’ll tell you?”

“I’ll bring her back.”

Mrs. Fairfax frowned.

“By dragging her back?”

“I’ll persuade her. Beg, plead…”

“And if that fails, threaten suicide again?”

“I won’t do that again.”

“Even if you say that, I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

Mrs. Fairfax grabbed Ian by the collar.

“Because you keep hurting the best woman in the world, you idiot!”

She shook him, disheveling his tie and popping a shirt button.

“Your reckless courtship drove Miss Sheldon away! She shed buckets of tears, burning with anguish! Did I tell you to marry, or to torture a poor woman?”

Ian pushed her hands away.

“She’s blaming herself? Why?”

“As a governess, she feels guilty for winning your heart. If she loves you, she’s likely also wrestling with guilt over her own feelings.”