While it would always behoove her to miss a meal or two, she could not tolerate an empty stomach so early in the day. Her maid helped her dress in a petal green striped muslin and she glanced at the mantel. Half past ten. Someone as serious as John had probably been up for hours now and he no doubt would be long gone from the breakfast room. As she made her way downstairs, she reflected on her obnoxious behavior of the night before. She’d never meant to be so rude to John, but his surprise return had thoroughly disconcerted her, sparking an anger she’d long ago locked away, and his sympathy regarding her father’s death had not helped matters. Every other family member knew better than to broach that subject with her. She had buried all memories of her father—and John—in a deep recess of her mind and never thought about either of them. Still, she hoped she would hold up better today, though she hadn’t slept well. She was no longer an immature girl of seventeen.
