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Alice tended the orchid, giving it a nice soaking drink and wiping the waxy green leaves dry with her skirts.
Some of the root tendrils curled straight up into the air instead of down.
Dr. Forster had been right. Being here with such beauty was good and right.
Nick was too strong to succumb to poison.
He would wake soon.
Alice leaned back on her heels.
Today was the day her ship sailed. And she wasn’t on board.
How could she be, when Nick lay inside the house, unconscious and dreaming, growing paler every day?
Here in the humid air, with the trickling sound of water dripping from the plants and the scent of vanilla, she listened to the orchids whisper of new beginnings.
Of new adventures.
The duke lifted his head and stared straight at her. “Can you hear them, my dear?”
“Yes.” Alice’s eyes filled with tears that spilled over, streaking her cheeks. She was careful not to drop any tears on the orchid leaves.
“I can hear them,” she whispered.
