She paused, and the viscount turned his attention at once back to her.“Are you fatigued? Shall I take you back inside? I can carry you if you are too tired to walk.”She shook her head.“It would be no trouble. You are as light as a newborn lamb, Madeline.”She smiled ruefully at that. “I doubt it. But I’m fine, Adrian. Although we might sit a while on the bench up ahead.”“Of course,” he agreed. The bench was still damp, but Bess had sent along an extra throw, and he spread it on the seat then steered her to it and sat down beside her.“I just—I just had a moment of melancholy, that’s all,” she told him. “Time is passing, and nothing can stop it, slow it. I don’t want you to go, Adrian.”He pulled out his watch and she saw the small charm, a miniature hourglass with sand that poured from one side to another. He twirled it, and the sand slid too quickly—much too quickly—from the top to the bottom.For a moment, neither spoke.He looked away, down the swath of green lawn to the trees beyond, where one could not see the hidden undergrowth.
