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“I have made friends!” she snapped back, insulted. “Beatrice and Henry…” She paused a moment too late.

Theodore tilted his head at her. “Ah yes, Henry. What a fine friend he was.”

Anna shifted. Her legs were going to sleep under her, but she had a feeling that if she got up, she would find herself stomping off into the house in a rage, and that would let Kitty down.

“I don’t wish to talk about it.”

“Very wise,” he conceded.

In the nick of time, before either of them could launch a hot cup of tea at the other, Kitty came prancing back, her hands full of wildflowers.

“Is it time to look at the stars yet?” she asked hopefully.

“Not quite yet,” Theodore said, patting the blanket beside him. “Come, sit.”

Kitty plopped down happily. This put her directly between Anna and Theodore, for which Anna was grateful. She didn’t want to look at the infuriating man, much less speak to him. Martha settled herself a little way away, seeming quite content.

Kitty chattered nonstop. She had a great deal to talk about—her lessons, the ones she’d had yesterday, the ones she would have tomorrow. The books she was reading with Martha, the things she saw from the window, the things the servants had done or told her, the events of today, her mud pies, her gowns… She prattled on and on, and Anna stayed silent. She kept glancing at her husband.

You must see it,she thought.You must see how small her world has become.

Of course, a small child couldn’t face the whole wide world. Of course not. But when they grow, their world must grow with them. If it didn’t… Well. Anna had seen birds kept in cages grow frustrated and irritable, biting each other and their owners, refusing to sing, refusing to eat, fading away.

Some creatures were meant tofly.

Abruptly, Kitty paused mid-prattle and glanced between her father and her new stepmother, her eyebrows knitted. “Why aren’t you talking to each other?”

Anna blinked, missing a beat. Theodore answered in the pause that followed.

“I don’t know what you mean, Kitty.”

Kitty pouted. “I mean that you are both talking tome, and to Martha, but not to each other. Why?”

Anna felt blood rush to her face. Fortunately, it was dark enough to hide her color. She cleared her throat and rearranged her skirts around her knees, hoping to look casual.

She suspected it was not working. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Martha was bent over, making a daisy chain or something, and she could have sworn that the nursemaid was trying not to laugh.

“Well,” Theodore answered at last, sounding a little strained, but Kitty interrupted him.

“Ohh, I see! Of course!”

“What do you see?” Anna asked a trifle nervously.

Kitty nodded seriously. “It’s a plain fact. You’re shy, both of you.”

There was another silence.

“Shy?” Theodore repeated, and now Anna was sure thathewas biting back a smile. “You think we are shy?”

Kitty nodded again. “It’s the only explanation.”

Don’t contradict her,Anna prayed.Let her think we’re a pair of shy schoolchildren. It’s far easier than trying to explain the truth.

Theodore looked at her, his eyes glimmering in the dark. She met them steadily, her eyebrows raised. Abruptly, he looked away, lowering himself back down onto his elbows.

“The clouds have cleared,” he remarked. “Shall we see what we can see?”

With a squeal of delight, Kitty threw herself on her back beside her father, curled up against his shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, Anna lay on her back, too.