Rosalie sat huddled in the embrace of Honora and Anastasia at the kitchen table. No one had slept. Each was as miserable as the other, faces grey with fatigue, arms and legs heavy with the exhaustion of having spent the night searching for Florentine and Drew. They’d returned to the hotel to warm themselves and seek strength in hot tea and a scant meal. John Bray had stayed out with Clancy Dickens and Alexander Ridlay determined to find the errant Ponsonby children and return them to the fold.
Rosalie heard his bellow from the yard and feared what that sound might mean. She squeezed her eyes closed on tears of despair as her son-in-law’s running steps came to her, and opened them in surprise when she realised he was laughing and Anastasia was pulling away from her, crying and laughing. Wr
