16
Martin gazed unseeing at the snow falling outside his study window. Stacks of letters lay unanswered, their words left unread. His cup of tea, hot only a short time ago, was now tepid. The room was icy despite the fire some kind footman had lit for him during his distraction.
His happiness, what little of it he’d claimed in the last few days, was gone. It was like losing his mother and his home all over again. If he didn’t know better, he might have sworn his black heart was broken clean through. If it was, it would never heal.
My Livvy is gone. Gone because I was too much of a coward to fight for her. Regret weighed so heavily upon him that it was hard to draw in a breath without his chest aching.
He knew his servants would be worried, and his clients’ letters needed answering, but
