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He scoffed. “I will never thank that man for anything.”

Merritt chuckled. “Well, when you get where you’re going ... the Leiningens seem well off. I expect you to spend some of that fortune on a communion stone large enough to reach Blaugdone.”

The corner of Owein’s lip ticked up. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Merritt squeezed Owein’s knee. “Make sure to listen to her,” he said. “Listen to the things she says, and the things she’s not saying. I know you have no problem being painfully forward, but not everyone is like that.”

Cora’s flawless handwriting passed behind Owein’s eyelids. “I will.”

“And serve her,” Merritt added. “Where there is service, there is love. Everything will come together if you love each other.”

Owein’s stomach tightened. He fumbled for a reply, but glanced up and saw Adey’s boat approaching. His time was up.

Merritt followed his gaze. “And come at Christmas.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, because that was a promise he knew he could keep.

He’d do his best.

Owein slung two bags over either shoulder in his room, taking a moment to absorb the space. He wondered what the Fernsbys would do with it after he’d gone, but he had a feeling that, should they repurpose it, it would be a while before they did. The thought brought warmth to Owein’s middle. Reaching into his bag, he touched his stack of letters from Cora, assuring himself they were there. He took two off the top, including the missive with the Wordsworth poem, and tucked them into his jacket. Grabbing his suitcase, he touched the wall just outside the doorjamb with his free hand, offering a silent and heartfelt goodbye.

When he stepped outside, they were all waiting for him: Beth, Baptiste, and Henri; Merritt, Hulda, and the girls; Dwight Adey, wearing a pale suit and a matching bowler hat, a mahogany cane in one hand, though the man was hale enough to walk unaided. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Owein rested his hand on the outside of the jacket, pressing Cora’s letters against his ribs, spinning a wordless prayer in his mind. He’d prepared for this, yes, but that did not stop the flittering of moth wings from stirring in his stomach. This was an entirely new adventure for him, and Cora was only part of it.

He glanced up, searching the summer sky for the wing of a gray hawk. Not a feather could be seen.

A huff and a whine sounded behind him. Owein turned, unburdened himself, and crouched down, scratching the ears and neck, respectively, of Ash and Aster, who sensed his departure and placated themselves with tongues on his shoulders and cheeks. “You guys guard this house while I’m gone, okay?” He buried his face into Aster’s fur.Ash flopped over, and Owein gave him a thorough belly rub. “You listen to Hulda. Stay with the kids.” He rumbled a soft growl to let the pups know he loved them, and not to worry, though he knew they’d be worrying for weeks, searching the island for him, never quite understanding where he had gone. The thought made his bags feel too heavy when he stood and lifted them once more.

“Good luck, Owein,” Beth offered.

Baptiste made a fist. “Victory only, my friend.”

“Remember what we’ve taught you,” Hulda said.

“Send me a doll, if you can.” Mabol beamed. “Hattie, too. But not Ellis. Mom says she’s too little for dolls.”

Owein grinned. “I’ll do that.”

Merritt met his eyes and offered a hopeful smile. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

Owein nodded. “Take care of my house.”

Adey tilted his hat. “Ready to depart, Mr. Mansel?”

Adjusting the straps on his shoulders, Owein nodded. He followed the Brit to the dock, to a fine boat with a finely dressed captain. He set his things in the small hold below deck, then came back up to watch Blaugdone Island as the boat sailed away, squinting to see his family at the dock and Mabol jumping up and down with both arms waving. He smiled. Turned into the wind, to keep his eyes dry. Laughed when a mourning dove passed overhead. Winkers. Merritt must have asked her to keep an eye on him. Though a dove lacked the speed of a hawk, and soon the bird couldn’t keep up with the boat and had to turn back for shore. Soon, Blaugdone Island winked out of sight, as though it had never existed at all.

Their kinetic ship to England would depart from Boston in the morning. It was similar to the one Owein had taken over the first time, Adey explained. He explained a lot of things, as though Owein had never been to England before, but Owein appreciated every word. Both for the sake of learning and for the sake of filling in the quiet he couldn’tbring himself to fill. Adey helped him with his bags, bought him dinner, and shared a room with him, jesting it was to ensure he wouldn’t run. Owein promised he wouldn’t, and he didn’t.

Bright and early, the morning sun piercing the sky, Owein boarded a large ship with a hundred other passengers. He had a private room assigned to him, though the ship would arrive at the mouth of the Thames by sunset. And it did, with some time to spare. As before, Owein boarded a carriage, noting the Leiningen crest upon its door, his heart beating just as hard as it had the first time. If Adey noticed his nerves, he had the decency not to remark on them. Together, they rode into the city, past London proper, and out into the more wooded outskirts, where Cyprus Hall resided.

His blood ran fast enough to make his head ache as the grand house came into view, its gardens well manicured and brimming with color. Two dozen people stood outside the front doors as the carriage pulled around, most of whom wore Cyprus Hall livery. Pulling back the gauzy curtain over the window, Owein searched the faces for Cora, but there were so many of them, and the carriage turned in a way that cut off his line of sight. So he pulled back from the window, rubbing his hands together to warm them. Touching, one more time, the letters still tucked into his inside jacket pocket.

The carriage came to a full stop.

“Ready?” Adey asked with a grin on his face.

Before he could answer, a footman opened the door, and Owein stepped into the glow of a dozen enchanted lights.