“As of now, I plan to make a new life for myself here. I have little to go back to, unfortunately. My parents are no longer alive. Besides my cousin Louisa, there is no more family left.”

  “I hope you’ll stay here as long as it pleases you,” I said. “God knows we have enough rooms.”

  “Your family’s most generous. In fact, your father’s extended an invitation to stay the rest of the summer. He’s under the impression you might grow lonely with your sister on her honeymoon.”

  “Father said that?” I asked, surprised.

  “Not specifically, but I gathered as much.”

  He was incorrect, but I didn’t bother to explain. Father was concerned about me because he didn’t think any man would fall in love with the likes of me. “Mauve and I have never been apart. It will be a strange adjustment. One that I expected, of course. The moment we were presented to society, I knew she would be gobbled up.”

  “Gobble?” He chuckled. “That’s an interesting verb to use.”

  “I find it appropriate. Isn’t that what happens? A man takes his wife from her family and everything she’s known, gobbling her up until there’s nothing left.”

  “Have you a beau of your own, or has this interesting perspective kept the young men away?”

  “I have no beau. I don’t usually share my viewpoint, so I doubt it’s that particular quality that keeps them from noticing me. Such a shame that I was not blessed with my sister’s prettiness.”

  His mouth twitched into a sympathetic smile. “Ah, there it is again. You think you’re not as pretty as your sister.”

  “There’s no thinking about it, Mr. Harris. It’s obvious to everyone.”

  “Not to me,” he said, looking me directly in the eyes.

  I swallowed my nervousness, utterly speechless. Was it true that he thought me attractive? Pretty even? Dare I hope?

  “You’re unlike anyone else,” he said. He tapped his middle finger between his own eyebrows. “Your mark there—a kiss from your guardian angel—proves me right. You’re rare and special. Marked for greatness.”

  Not many people noticed the pink birthmark between my eyebrows. I’d hoped it would fade, but unfortunately, the flat pink mark had remained.

  “I’ve never thought of it that way. I’ve wished it away a thousand times.”

  “Could it be that our true beauty is found in what we see as imperfections? These details we focus on are not in fact the measure of anything, but somehow, they help us to find who we’re truly meant to be.”

  I didn’t know what to say. His words moved me profoundly, like answers written on a holy grail. “I’ve wished only that Mauve and I looked the same. Like her, obviously.”

  “Would it please you to know I studied you intently over the last few days?” Mr. Harris asked.

  I flushed with warmth, feeling it rise to my cheeks. A trickle of perspiration traveled down the back of my spine. “Yes, it would please me. Very much so, Mr. Harris.”

  “Please, call me Constantine.”

  “I’ve shown you my special garden, Constantine, so you may call me Estelle.”

  He poured more champagne into our glasses. The bottle sweated in the warm afternoon. Overhead, birdsong provided a sweet serenade.

  “What have you left behind in England?” I asked. “That leaves you starting anew in America?”

  “There’s nothing to leave behind, which I suppose answers your question. Louisa’s like a sister to me. My mother and father took her in when she was orphaned at only twelve years old. With Thomas and Louisa living in New York now, I feel the tug to be close to them. In America, I hope to make my way. Find direction and purpose. I’ve come out of a dark time and like a moth, I seek light.”

  “What did you do before the war?” I asked. Like so many, he’d obviously put his life on hold to fight against tyranny.

  “My family owned a bookstore, which I ran in the years after my father’s death—before I was called to serve. Not the most lucrative of professions, but one I loved. Without a profession or experience in anything but selling books, it seemed wise to pursue a new life in America. As I said, I have nothing left to lose. Our store was destroyed during the war. Without many options left to me, I took Louisa up on her kind offer to come to the States. Your father has put me in touch with several businessmen in need of private secretaries. My talents would be well-used in such a position.”

  I studied him for a moment. He seemed meant for more than the assistant to some arrogant man, but who was I to say? I’d never done anything remotely difficult in my life. I was a wealthy heiress expected to marry well and have children. “If I were a man, I’d have liked to go to school and acquire the skills for a profession.”

  “If you were a man, you’d have a position in your father’s firm.”

  I lifted one shoulder. “I suppose.”

  “Are you interested in marrying any of the young men currently pining over you?”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “They’re interested in my father’s money, not me.”

  “Why do you say so?”

  “I know what they say about me when they think I can’t hear them,” I said. “They call me headstrong and tiresome with too many opinions and homely as an old goat.”

  “I think that’s more a commentary on them than you.”

  I lifted my gaze to meet his, suddenly shy. His attention intoxicated me. Or was it the champagne?

  No, it was the man.

  “If I were not poor as a pauper, I would put my hat in the ring,” Constantine said. “But alas, I have nothing to offer you.”

  “But I have money. If you were to marry me, then you would have money too. In fact, it would be your money then.”

  “Isn’t that a shame? That being a man affords me such luxuries?”

  For a moment, I thought he was teasing, but his eyes had flattened, and his mouth set in a serious line.

  “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it,” I said. “This is the world in which we live. Anyway, as Mauve would point out if she were here, I should be grateful for a life of ease into which I’ve been lucky enough to be born. She doesn’t fret over the same things as I. There is no gnashing of teeth or loosening of corsets for my sister.”

  “Be that as it may, I can’t imagine she’s nearly as interesting as you. Tell me, Miss Sullivan, what would you do if you could? If there was nothing restricting you?”

  I blinked, surprised at the question. However, I’d certainly thought about it enough times in my twenty years on earth to provide an answer. “If I could do anything in the world, I would like to write a book. Or books.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Is that so? What kind of book would you write?”

  “Something wholly unimportant but addictively clever and intriguing. Stories with mystery and romance. Forbidden love. Unlikely heroines and men who do not care if they’re different or unusual. If only I had anything from which to draw. Instead, I’m trapped here with nothing to do but hope a suitable man decides he wants to marry me.”

  “What about an unsuitable one?” Constantine waved away a fly that threatened to perch on my hand.

  “Do you have anyone in mind?” I held my breath, hoping…hoping he would offer himself up to me.

  “Ah yes, I certainly do. It could be me. I would offer you my devotion and the promise to make something of myself so that you might respect me. I’d not burden you with the heaviness that comes from pretending to be anything other than yourself. You could write your books and I would be your humble muse.”

  “Since we’ve only just met, this is a big promise.”

  “Indeed. But I’m a man of my word. Only death could keep me from fulfilling whatever promises I’ve made to you.”

  “You have a golden tongue, Mr. Constantine Harris. Perhaps you should be the one to write the books?”

  “No, I’m content to be a reader. In fact, I could be your reader. The first one anyway, before you send it out to the masses.”

  I shook my head, reaching over to pluck a breadcrumb from his shirtsleeve. “What a lovely picture you’ve made for me. Much like the dreams my sister and I spoke of when were still young and naive. Hers all came true today when she married Pierre. He’s good—kind and considerate. He’ll make a wonderful father and husband.” I sighed, a dart of joy expanding my chest at the thought of Mauve and Pierre starting their life together. “He adores her. Just as she is.”

  “You deserve the same.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not good like Mauve. I have way too many contrarian thoughts.”

  He laughed, part bark, part giggle. I’d never heard any sound as delightful. “How about you let me be the judge of that. Tell me one of these contrary thoughts.”

  I hesitated, questioning myself. Should I be so bold as to suggest he court me? What would Father think of such a match? He’d been poor once too. Maybe he would see the potential in Constantine and give him an opportunity.

  “I would like to be courted by someone like you, regardless of your station in life. In fact, I would like to be courted by you.”

  A smile spread across his handsome face, lighting up the already bright day. “I would agree it’s a most pleasant idea. But your father would never agree to it, would he?”

  “Father was not born rich. He might see something in you that others wouldn’t. As I do.”

  He set aside his glass of champagne. “I’ll do my best to convince him.”

  A niggling thought intruded. Father had invited him to say at the estate. The invitation in itself was not unusual. Father could be a generous man, especially when he wanted something in return for his favors. Yet what could be the reason to offer our home to a stranger? Had he seen something in Constantine Harris that he wanted?

  Or had he bribed Constantine Harris to woo me? If something seemed too good to be true, then it probably was.

  “Tell me, Constantine. Did my father put you up to this? Give you money to woo me and possibly marry me?”

  He looked at me, aghast. “My dear, what an imagination you have. I have told you my honest thoughts and opinions. If you were to see yourself as I do, all your questions would dissipate, and you would see a man smitten and intrigued. Do not let your false assumptions and doubts cloud what is before you. I beg of you.”

  I gazed at him for a moment, and a feeling I’d never had before in my life washed over me. This man had been made for me and I for him. I knew it with a clarity I’d not before encountered.

  “No need to beg. I believe you,” I said, laughing and singing at once. “I have no earthly idea how to explain what’s happening to me.”

  “Does it need to be explained? He picked up my left hand and brushed his mouth against my knuckles. “There’s so much bad in the world. Can’t we simply look upon this as a gift?”

  “I suppose we could.”

  “May I kiss you?”

  “No, not today. Perhaps another? When you’ve asked my father’s permission to court me.”

  “I shall be patient, then.” He lifted his glass. “Shall we toast?”

  “To what?”

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  “No, I don’t. Not really.”

  We grinned at each other, lost for a moment, until a crow interrupted our picnic by swooping in to take one of the sandwiches, flying off with a great flutter of his black wings and a sandwich clutched in his beak.

  2

  Estelle

  “Is this what you want?” Father asked. “Or should I say, whom you want.”

  “It is,” I said. “He’s everything I could want. And more.”

  Mother and I had joined Father in his study. The subject at hand? Whether or not Father would agree to the marriage of Constantine and me.

  Mauve and Pierre were set to arrive home from their European honeymoon in just a few short weeks. I could hardly wait to see my sister and tell her everything that had transpired since her wedding day. I’d already imagined a hundred times her facial expression when I told her I’d fallen in love during the three months she was away. Madly and deeply in love with Constantine Harris.

  Constantine had already come to my father and asked for my hand. I had every reason to hope Father would agree to the marriage. He’d consented to a courtship without much discussion, a fact that had surprised me a great deal at the time. But now that my parents knew Constantine as I did, I felt certain that they would see how well we fit together. Despite his financial status, he and I were compatible in every way. He’d won my heart so easily I had to laugh at myself for ever thinking there was not a man out there for me as there had been for Mauve.

  “I shall consent to the marriage,” Father said. “But his position in life must be elevated. We’ll find something in the company for Constantine to do. He’s intelligent and hardworking.”

  “Humble as well.” Mother looked up from her needlepoint. “Such a dear boy, really.”

  “I think so too.” I flushed, recalling the passion we’d shared just last night. We’d not been able to stop ourselves. The tension had built up for weeks and weeks, and when he’d told me he’d asked Father for my hand, I’d been so overwhelmed with love and desire that I’d quite lost my head. Not that it mattered. We were to be married. I would have him in my bed every night starting very soon.

  “Thank you, Father.” I stood, rounding the desk to kiss his ruddy cheek. “You’ve made me very happy.”

  “I hope we’re not wrong about him,” Father said, as if discussing a business deal. “If he’s only in it for the money, it’ll soon be transparent.”

  “He’s not,” I said. “It’s me he wants.”

  “I sense that too,” Mother said. “Although he’ll have to prove himself worthy at any account.”

  “I’ll tell him tonight,” Father said. “After supper. Over a scotch. As I did with Pierre.”

  “Won’t it be wonderful to have both my girls married? Babies soon to come.” Mother smiled, her eyes softening at the corners. “To be young and in love. There’s no better feeling.”

  “Other than to be middle-aged and in love,” Father said, winking at Mother.

  “Dear me. You’re positively naughty.” Mother’s cheeks flushed, but a subtle smile played at her lips.

  “May I go?” I asked. “I’d like to have Abigail fix my hair before tonight.”

  “Yes, my dear. Off you go.” Father waved me out of the door.

  “Have fun tonight, darling,” Mother called as I sailed out the door to the study and danced up the stairs to my room. I’d wear my new blue dress to go with my eyes and have Abigail coax my curls into a becoming twist. If tonight I was to be proposed to, I must look my best.

  How silly I was now. This is what love does to a woman. If only I’d known, I might not have been so critical of others succumbing to Cupid’s arrow. Now that it had happened to me, I understood perfectly.

  Constantine was supposed to arrive promptly at seven. He’d been called into the city to take care of something but had promised to be ready to take me out for a walk before supper. The weather had cooled considerably the past week, but it was still warm in the afternoon. By sunset, the temperatures dropped and brought the hint of autumn. The air smelled of drying leaves and late-blooming roses.

  I sat with Mother in the drawing room trying to read a book but was too distracted. Minutes ticked by, one after the other, until it was thirty minutes past the hour, and he had not yet arrived.

  Agitated, I got up to pace around the room, wringing my hands. Something was wrong. I felt it deep inside. He was in trouble. Or had he changed his mind?

  Please, Connie, don’t do this to me. Don’t break my heart.

  Another thirty minutes passed. Mother, too, had started fretting. Father came down dressed for dinner and still Constantine had not arrived.

  I was about to go out of my mind and go out looking for him when our butler, Frank, appeared in the doorway, looking pale and shaken. “The police are here. They’re asking for you, Mr. Sullivan.”

  My stomach dropped to the floor and remained there. Tears pricked my eyes. Father exchanged a glance with Mother. I knew then. He suspected the same as I. Constantine was hurt. Or worse.

  “You stay here,” Father said to me. “I’ll be right back.”

  I sat next to Mother on the couch. She put aside her needlepoint and took my hand in hers. Minutes passed, the second hand ticking and ticking, driving me mad.

  Finally, Father returned, looking grim and a little green.

  He’s dead, I thought. “Father, tell it to me straight.”

  Father sank into the couch on the other side of me. “There was an accident. A collision of motorcars. Head-on. I’m sorry, darling. Constantine was killed.”

  Even though I knew it was coming, the shock of it hit me as if I’d been suddenly tossed against a brick wall. A howl rose up from deep inside me. A knowing, too, that he’d been too good to be true. He was too good for this world. For me.

  I was meant to be alone. But I didn’t want to be. I wanted Constantine and the life I’d dreamt of as his wife. The way he’d tamed me in ways I never thought possible had given me hope. The dangling promise of a life had suddenly been plucked from me. Constantine Harris was the love of my life. Besides Mauve, he was the only person who would ever love me just as I was.

  Mother took me in her arms, and I wept and wept. Nothing mattered without Constantine. I might as well have died with him.

  3

  Percival

  A few minutes after ten, my taxi driver pulled through the gate of Marbella Mental Asylum. Marvin, the gatekeeper, recognized me and waved us through. We traveled down a winding driveway, rows of poplar trees on either side. I rested my head on the back of the seat and focused on the fluttering leaves, anchoring myself to something beautiful before I faced the ugliness that awaited.

  The taxi driver glanced back at me, either unable or unwilling to hide the curiosity lurking in his beady eyes. “You know someone here?”