The carriage rolled up the path, bumping along on the uneven ground, its passenger peering out from behind the drawn curtains. Lady Felicia Warren looked out upon a disused estate that had fallen upon hard times. “A shame,” she muttered out loud to herself, “that such a magnificent estate should be so ill-treated.”
Stopping before the grand entrance, she waited patiently while her footman opened the door, placing a small step to help her down. She emerged into the sunlight, blinking at the unexpected brightness of the day. She watched as servants hastened to assemble by the door, and she pretended to straighten her dress to give them time to prepare. Looking up, she recognized Alistair Hanson standing at their head and smiled; it was good to see a familiar face. As she stepped forward, Ha
