The MarkThe next morning shone clean and clear, a coolness in the air which spoke of autumn.
Mary came in with my morning tea and toast, mail and newspaper, and set the tray upon my tea-table. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Mary,” I said. “How was your night?”
“Ariana’s a bit fussy this morning, but last night she slept a whole three hours!”
I must have been tired: I slept through the screaming. “I’m happy for you.”
Mary poured my morning tea, the bitter aroma filling the room. “My husband says the carriage will arrive at eleven, and —”
“So late?”
She shrugged. “That’s what he thought as well.” She let out a breath. “Is it important for you to leave earlier?”
“I suppose not. But I’d planned on riding with Master Rainbow, and I’m not sure he’ll want to spend half the day here.”
“I’ll le
