He wouldn’t meet her gaze for the longest time, but raised his hand to trail his fingers down her cheek in a tender caress.
“Who was she?”
He didn’t answer aloud, but his eyes clouded with sorrow.
Her stomach clenched. She grasped his wrist. “How did she die?”
He paused, his hand still cradling her cheek, her fingers wrapped around his wrist where she felt his pounding pulse. When he at last spoke, she barely heard him over the whisper of wind in the trees.
“The axle broke, and her carriage plunged into a ravine.”
She waited a moment to let the horrific images his words conjured settle. “Were you driving? Or in the carriage?”
“No.”
She lowered his hand so she could hold it between both of hers. “Did you cause the axle to break?”
“Of course not!”
“Then how was it your fault, your
