Page 54 of The Dravenhearst Brides

Samuel,

I have taken the liberty of responding to your letter on Margot’s behalf. It is with a heavy heart I share this news: we are no longer expecting a baby.

Physically, Margot is recovering and doing well, but you can imagine the strain this has caused us both. Your correspondence always means so much to Margot, but I simply could not bear for her to write this note herself.

I couldn’t say it to you with honor and integrity back in June, but I can say it to you now—I’m in love with your daughter, Samuel. So although this letter shares great loss, it shares even greater love. I hope you find comfort in that. I certainly do, every day.

Both Margot and I hope we will be able to visit soon.

Sincerely,

Merrick Dravenhearst

In the dark, dark, dark of the moonless night, they came.

They came as they always did, amidst plummeting temperatures and the quiet slither of silk skirts. From his position at the foot of the bed, Beau growled.

“Look how she sleeps in his arms,” Babette murmured, shaking her head.

“Look how quickly she forgives him,” Eleanor added, tapping her slippered foot.

Babette, standing tall and righteous, crossed her arms. “We have to do something about this.”

Margot rolled over and shivered, half awake and half asleep. The bedsprings whined. Her pillow smelled of Evangeline’s rosemary.

“Love is blind,” Eleanor whispered.

“Death is omniscient,” Babette finished.