An hour had passed since my grandmother had announced we were leaving for New York. She was having some rest and I was sitting in the front parlour sipping some lemon tea and trying to write a letter to the duke. My stomach had been unsettled all day, to which I suspected it was a mixture of anxiety, worry, nerves and sadness. Possibly all of the above. I hoped the lemon tea would solve the problem, I had no appetite or hankering to eat anything because of the upset.
It was also affecting my ability to write or even think, as I stared at the piece of writing paper on the table before me. All it read thus far, was, ‘Dearest Sebastian’ and that was all. How could I tell him goodbye, but I knew I had to? We could be in New York for months depending on my grandmother’s progress and he was go
