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Footmen lined the walls, and the housekeeper could have been summoned with a nod. No hostess ever left the drawing room with guests present.

But before Sutton could say a word, she stood up, smoothed her skirts, and glided out of the room.

Sutton watched her retreat, a heavy stone sinking into the pit of his stomach.

He had managed to ruin the fragile truce they had maintained since that night in the kitchen by stupidly bringing up Marie in front of her.

He let out a sigh and turned back to his parents, only to witness a coy glance pass between them.

"What?" Sutton frowned.

"Nothing, dear," his mother said with a smile. "I was thinking we might extend our stay here for a few weeks. Leslie's child isnae due for another two months, and we might as well get tae know our new daughter better."

"Splendid," Sutton breathed. "I shall go and fetch her."

He stood, and as he did, his mother caught his father's gaze once more, an amused, knowing look passing between them as if they had just uncovered a hidden treasure buried right beneath their noses.

Chapter Eleven

Vevey

19th October 1816

My dear Sutton,

Your letter found me, as instructed. I have remained at the Villa Belle-Rive long enough to read it three times, which I trust satisfies your terms.

I have informed the gentleman from Vienna that my ankles are spoken for. He took the news bravely and has begun a sonnet to my wrists.

The first snows are late this year. My aunt takes it as a personal insult.

P.S. You asked how the sauerkraut tastes. Of vinegar and stubbornness. Just like me. You would hate it.

P.P.S. Lady Alderton takes chocolate every morning and insists I do the same. It is thin and very sweet, and I have grown fond of it. I have drawn you a cup. Perhaps it will tempt you where the sauerkraut could not.

Your wife, still (and, it seems, spoken for),

Temperance

[Sketch of a cup of chocolate in the margins, with the vineyard terraces behind it]

Sutton found Temperance not in the kitchen, among the cakes, but in her bedchamber.

She sat at her dressing table with her back to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She jumped in her seat, then frantically dabbed at her eyes.

"Yes. Perfectly. I only needed to use the... the..." She faltered, and a hand fluttered in the air. "I should not like to be rude, so I would rather not go into the details."

Sutton blinked. She must have meant the necessary.

And it might have been a believable explanation if he had not caught her reflection. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her lashes were clumped in damp points.

His chest tightened.

She was crying.