“...So far I have restrained myself. For how much longer, I do not know.I have never known such happiness, shot through with such misery. Only four days have passed, they tell me. But that is not true. It has been decades since I sawyou last.You will find me a stooped old man when we meet again. Perhaps I might even need a pair of spectacles to recognize your veil.But I remain always,Your servant,C.One of Christian's onesided letters to the Baroness”

“Dear Bryony,There are many things I wish I had time to tell you, so I will say just this: These past few days have been some of the best days of my life. Because of you.My fervent hope is that you are safe and well as you read this letter. That you will have all the happiness I wish I could have shared with you. And that you will remember me not as a failed husband, but one who was still trying, til the very end.Yours always,Leo”

“What did you do to your hair? I don’t like it asmuch.”His brow knitted. “How do you like it?”“I prefer the curls.”He looked as if she’d told him she preferred him with three eyes. “You used to make fun of them. You told me that if Bo Peep had a child with one of her sheep it would have hair like mine.”She burst out laughing—and gasped at the pain that shot through her scalp. “You are not making it up, are you? Did I really say that?”“Sometimes you called me Goldilocks.”She had to remind herself not to laugh again. “And you married me? I sound like a very odious sort of girl.”“I was a very odious sort of boy, so you might say we were evenly matched.”She didn’t know enough to comment upon that, but when he was near, she was… happier.”

“This time he could no longer hold back his tears. And with them came words that he’d never been able to say to her his entire life. “I love you, Helena. I have always loved you. Wake up and let me prove it to you.”

“When will you ask for your post back?” he whispered in her ear. “I miss the smell ofindustrial-strength solvents.”She laughed softly. “Soon. And when will you have papers read at the mathematical societyagain? I rather like having my husband called a genius for reasons that are not clear to me.”My husband. The words rolled off her tongue, easy and beautiful. He kissed her fervently.“Soon. My brilliance quite overflowed on the way home. I have four notebooks to show forit.”“Good. We don’t want people to think I love you for your looks alone.”“In that case we should also put you in some rather revealing gowns once in a while, so thatpeople don’t think I married you for your accomplishments alone.”

“Even they would think you a monster were you toorchestrate a divorce right after my confinement.”“How long do you recommend I wait, then?”“A long time. I know what happens when a divorce is granted:The woman never gets anything. And I will not be parted from my child.”“So you will contest the divorce?”“To my last penny. And then I’ll borrow from Fitz and Millie.”“So we’ll be married ’til the end of time?”“The sooner you accept it, the sooner we are all better off.”His ancestors would have appreciated her hauteur: a fit wife for a de Montfort. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must have enough rest.”He gazed at her retreating back. Foolish woman, did she not realize that he’d already accepted it from the moment he’d said “I do”?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, taking a sip of Mr. Braeburn’s whiskey, “so I will tell only avery condensed version of it.“Mrs. Marsden and I grew up on adjacent properties in the Cotswold. But the Cotswold, asfair as it is, plays almost no part in this tale. Because it was not in the green, unpollutedcountryside that we fell in love, but in gray, sooty London. Love at first sight, of course, ahunger of the soul that could not be denied.”Bryony trembled somewhere inside. This was not their story, but her story, the determinedspinster felled by the magnificence and charm of the gorgeous young thing.He glanced at her. “You were the moon of my existence; your moods dictated the tides ofmy heart.”The tides of her own heart surged at his words, even though his words were nothing butlies.“I don’t believe I had moods,” she said severely.“No, of course not. ‘Thou art more lovely and more temperate’—and the tides of my heartonly rose ever higher to crash against the levee of my self-possession. For I loved you mostintemperately, my dear Mrs. Marsden.”Beside her Mrs. Braeburn blushed, her eyes bright. Bryony was furious at Leo, for hisfacile words, and even more so at herself, for the painful pleasure that trickled into her dropby drop.“Our wedding was the happiest hour of my life, that we would belong to each other always.The church was filled with hyacinths and camellias, and the crowd overflowed to the steps,for the whole world wanted to see who had at last captured your lofty heart.“But alas, I had not truly captured your lofty heart, had I? I but held it for a moment. Andsoon there was trouble in Paradise. One day, you said to me, ‘My hair has turned white. It is asign I must wander far and away. Find me then, if you can. Then and only then will I be yoursagain.’”Her heart pounded again. How did he know that she had indeed taken her hair turning whiteas a sign that the time had come for her to leave? No, he did not know. He’d made it up out ofwhole cloth. But even Mr. Braeburn was spellbound by this ridiculous tale. She had forgottenhow hypnotic Leo could be, when he wished to beguile a crowd.“And so I have searched. From the poles to the tropics, from the shores of China to theshores of Nova Scotia. Our wedding photograph in hand, I have asked crowds pale, red,brown, and black, ‘I seek an English lady doctor, my lost beloved. Have you seen her?’”He looked into her eyes, and she could not look away, as mesmerized as the haplessBraeburns.“And now I have found you at last.” He raised his glass. “To the beginning of the rest ofour lives.”