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She’d grown up here, gone to school here, and would have lived here as Charles’s wife if he hadn’t died. No wonder she’d run here when she didn’t know where to go. Until she was eighteen, the Rookery was her entire world.

“We’re in transition,” she said, finally finding her voice. “But I thought until we were more settled, it’d be nice to visit.”

Mrs. Bishop’s light blue gaze, though watery, missed little. “Are you in trouble, my girl?”

Sam’s cheeks burned and she shook her head swiftly and before she could stumble her way through another feeble protest, Cristiano moved forward.

“Samantha wanted us to see her home,” he said, sliding an arm around Sam, his hand resting lightly, and yet provocatively, on her hip. “She thought it was important we knew where she came from.”

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Bishop was nodding and clucking again. “You’ve heard then all about her life. So much tragedy for one so young.” She regarded Sam with a look of tenderness. “I was the head housekeeper when she came to stay with us at the Rookery. It was a very difficult time but we loved her and she adjusted, although there were many nights we heard her crying.”

“Mrs. Bishop,” Sam remonstrated, going hot and cold. Mrs. Bishop’s shared memories were nearly as painful as Cristiano’s arm against her lower back, his hand warm on her hip, her body exquisitely sensitive.

“I know it’s hard, Samantha,” Mrs. Bishop said, reaching out to touch Sam’s cheek. “But if he loves you half as much as we do, he’ll want to know everything.”

Sam shuddered. “He knows enough.”

“So you’ve told him all about Charles, then?” Mrs. Bishop’s expression gentled even more. “Ah, that was a tragedy no one’s forgotten—”

“Mrs. Bishop.” Sam’s voice came out strangled.

But Mrs. Bishop so engrossed in her memories and stories seemed oblivious to Sam’s agony. “It was horrific. No one could believe it, no one knew what to do. Our beautiful Sam, a bride and a widow all in the same night.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE silence that followed didn’t last long, no more than any other silence following a difficult remark, but for Sam, it felt endless.

She’d never told anyone about Charles, had never spoken about her brief marriage that ended less than eight hours after the ceremony.

Sam stepped away from Cristiano. “With the Rookery closed, where do you live now, Mrs. Bishop?” Her voice was crisp, and she did her best to look firmly in control. Best thing to do now was quickly move forward. Act as if nothing had been said. “I know you had family in the area.”

Sam succeeded in distracting the elderly woman and Mrs. Bishop nodded. “That’s right. I broke my hip a number of years ago and it’s slowed me so I live with my daughter, and her family now.” Mrs. Bishop glanced down at Gabriela. “In fact, I have several granddaughters very close to your age. They’re twins.”

Gabby beamed. “I’m almost five. I’ll be five February 16th.”

“Well today is Saturday, the perfect day for a tea party.”

Sam smiled, smoothed Gabriela’s dark hair back from her brow. “That sounds like fun. Maybe later Gabby can meet the girls.”

“Why doesn’t she come home with me now?” Mrs. Bishop said stoutly.

“We haven’t even had breakfast.” Sam felt the panic return, the sensation like little needles in her stomach and brain. She couldn’t be alone with Cristiano, couldn’t be here with Cristiano, didn’t want Gabby gone and Cristiano looking at her, talking to her, having anything to do with her.

Mrs. Bishop waved away the protest. “She can have breakfast with the girls, and we’re just down the lane, not even a mile away. If she wants to come home, we’ll call you and zip her right back.”

“Can I go?” Gabby tugged on Sam’s hand. “Can I? I bet they have dolls and lots of toys.”

And gazing down into Gabriela’s eager little face, Sam realized all over again how much Gabriela had been deprived of these past four and a half years. Not just toys and pretty dresses, but parties and playdates. Friends. Johann wouldn’t let anyone ever come to the house, and overtures made by parents at Gabriela’s school had been immediately rebuffed by Johann. “You’re not afraid to go?” Sam asked softly.

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