Then, in mutual unspoken agreement, they went out the gate to the road. Julianne’s maid paced a distance behind them, but otherwise they were alone as they made their way along the lane, so intent on their thoughts they were blind to the beautiful early-spring morning. It was a mild day, fragrant with the heady flowers of spring, the birds almost as mad with song as the bees were at their work. But neither human made a sound except for crunching the gravel underfoot. They were a handsome couple, he the epitome of a gentleman in his slate trousers and dun jacket, high beaver hat, shining half boots, neckcloth, and linen fine as any fashionable fellow on a stroll through Hyde Park. She wore a pretty peach gown enlivened by green ribbons at the waist and a straw bonnet to shield her complexion from the sun Christian turned his head to the side, watching his companion. “I’m ready,” he finally said. “What are your questions?” “That’s just it. I don’t know what to ask.” She turned her face fully to his, and he saw that her eyes were as troubled as her voice.
