Chapter 3
The afternoon groaned into evening, creaking and implacable as icebergs. In the wake of Kit’s pronouncement, not much else could be done that day; they did not have time to explore all the Fairleigh fields, nor a precise enough location. The night’s blizzard threatened, howling.
The occupants of the study had gazed at each other and sighed; Miss Featherdale said she’d need to walk home before dark, as her mother needed help with the children. Kit very nearly said something about young women and walking alone and unattended, and then remembered that he wasn’t in London and this particular young woman knew the paths and country lanes better than he did. And then he couldn’t help glancing at the latest angry eruption of snowflakes beyond the windowpane anyway.
Harry caught this g
