March 10
Emmett was whistling as he made his way from the kitchen through the servants’ hall. Aleyn had chattered his ear off, insisting he try a nip of far too many items. But Aleyn had been proud and Emmett couldn’t bear the thought of turning him down. It was a relief to see Aleyn was doing well, if nothing more than for the time being. He turned the corner to the doorway that led to the rear courtyard and smiled at the sun. Ah, Aleyn, I’ve lied to you, he thought, for here it was, a beautiful afternoon in England after all, with not a cloud, a chill nor drop of rain to be found.
He didn’t mean to startle the two men who sat beneath the budding fruit trees. Nor did he mean to see the quick retreat of the paper that was yanked from between them and shoved into the breast of a jacket.
