This waiting is intolerable. Expect us to arrive at Carregness in time for your birthday. I will expect a full report.
Daisy
The next letter was written on violet-scented paper, with the seal in the shape of a rose in full bloom.
Dearest Heather,
Daisy told us she’s coming up to be with you. Therefore, we will do the same. Poppy has consented to be my companion again for the journey, and we hope to get there well before 6 October.
Rose
The third letter had been dashed off on the backside of an old letter, and for a seal it featured old candle wax splattered onto the opening.
Dear Heather,
Rose told me she is going to Carregness, and I begged to go along (it did not take much, since Rose intended to invite me anyway). We ride to your rescue!
Camellia
“Oh, dear. I hope there are enough rooms,” Heather muttered, rereading the cavalcade of letters that had arrived over the past few days. Ever since her disastrous night with Niall, Heather almost wished she could run away again. But she couldn’t. She made her choice.
She just didn’t expect to have her choice thrown in her face the moment after she made it. She wondered how it felt to be left? Well, Niall shutting the door after leaving her that night gave her all the insight she needed.
For her birthday, she decided that all she wanted was a way to toss out her regrets. Instead, it sounded like she was having a party whether she liked it or not. Maeve promised to make a spice cake, having learned that it was Heather’s favorite. And there would be an elaborate dinner and music and dancing.My God, everyone thinks I’m here for good.Well, not everyone—Niall’s brothers and sisters knew it was possible the marriage could still be dissolved, and Heather could quietly leave and hope no one ever asked about her “holiday” in Scotland. But she suspected that Maeve, Ian, and Rob wanted her to stay.
Even Heather wanted to stay…but not if Niall didn’t want her there.
At one point, Ian pulled her aside and said, “Heather, m’girl. You’re either my near-sister or a near stranger, but all the same I hope we’re friends.”
“Oh, Ian, of course. You’ve only been kind to me during this whole fiasco.”
“Then as a friend, may I suggest something?”
“Anything.” Heather hoped he’d gotten some brilliant insight that would untangle this skein.
“You should talk to Niall.”
“Why? What’s the point? He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“He does. He’s just a dolt sometimes and doesn’t know how to go about apologizing for his doltishness.”
“And what exactly should we talk about?”
He looked at her in exasperation. “The marriage!”
“Ian, my dear heart, that’s the only thing we actually agree on. It was a mistake.”
“Was it?” he asked, with a surprisingly serious expression compared to his usual jovial air.
“It was for me,” she said gently. “Niall gets what he needs out of it, even if he didn’t know that at the time. But I need something else.”
“What do you need?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Heather shook her head. Men couldn’t understand—they didn’t give anything up when they married. “It’s personal, and not very practical. But it’s important to me.”
