EpilogueLondon, September 7, 1895
Lord Seward’s second best carriage was a gorgeous thing, light and fast in the brougham style, with huge high wheels polished to gleaming and his lordship’s arms etched in exquisite detail on the door. Brenda thought she was probably meant to be awed by it, but awe could not quite penetrate the giddy glee that bubbled in her throat as the expressionless coachman handed her in.
The inside was even more beautiful than the exterior. Brenda ran her gloved fingers over the satin-smooth wood, then pressed her palm against the red velvet seat cushion. It pressed firmly back; this carriage was sprung to within an inch of its life. Brenda could hardly restrain the impulse to bounce on the seat, and a sidelong glance at Gavin’s faintly twitching fingers led her to
