Page 87 of Cold November Rake

Temperance licked her dry lips. "The fifteenth of September."

A pause.

"We landed on the twentieth."

Her breath stopped.

Five days. He had stepped onto the quay five days after she had boarded a ship out of Bergen, with her last hope vanishing.

Her heart sank. Then, impossibly, it sang.

He came for me.

He had come after her. Despite the pride and the hurt and everything that had transpired between them, Edward had crossed the sea, found an empty harbor, and gone home believing she had not waited.

Everything shifted, and the pieces clicked into place one after another, so loudly she wondered that no one else heard.

That's probably when, heartbroken, urged by Tyrone, he wandered into Marie's suite, tried to drown his sorrows in her, and instead found a steadfast friend.

God, I was so stupid.

She did not know what had become of her letters, or his, but it did not matter now.

"Temperance?" Emily's hand was on her arm, warm and steady. "Are you well?"

"Yes." She let out a shaky breath that was nearly a laugh, and the room slowly righted itself. "Yes. I am better than I have been in years." She pressed Emily's hand, then turned and gave Tyrone an unguarded smile. "Thank you. Truly."

"I feel I ought to be apologizing," he said.

"Please do not." She was already stepping back from the hearth, looking around the room. "Pardon me. I need to find my husband."

She swept her gaze across the room, past the pianoforte, the card table, and the cluster of Hexleys by the window, searching for a head of tousled flame-red hair.

He was nowhere to be seen.

Sutton slipped through the servants' door and into the passage beyond.

A young maid stood pressed against the wall, a tray clutched to her chest like a shield. Everly leaned over her, one hand braced beside her head, the other at her waist.

"Come now, sweetheart. Only a kiss."

"Please, sir. I must return⁠—"

"Everly," Sutton barked.

His cousin looked over his shoulder and had the gall to smile. "Cousin!"

"Let go of the girl," Sutton snapped.

"We were only talking, nothing untoward."

Sutton crossed the passage in three strides, seized Everly by the collar and the back of his coat, and hauled him away from the wall. Everly yelped.

"I told you to let go of her."

Everly raised his hands. "Well, she is let go of now, cousin! You can let go of me, too!"

Sutton marched him through the scullery, past the cook and the maids, who froze at their work with wooden spoons in midair, and kicked open the back door.