She was already dressed in black. Her father had lived slightly longer than expected, and she reflected gladly that he had seemed calmer the last few weeks. Ever since Lord Harleston’s visit, she recalled. She wondered what the purpose of that visit had been, but all her father had said on the subject was that he had a yearning to see his old favourite before he died. Somehow Susan did not quite believe it. She still did not understand why Monsieur Rénard had written the letter, and she remembered her surprise upon answering the baron’s knock and finding such a handsome gentleman at the door. Her needle paused for a moment. Surely Lord Harleston’s hair was the fairest she had ever seen except on a small child. But where one might have expected to find blue eyes, his were a golden brown, and she suspected the sun would turn his smooth skin to a becoming bronze. Susan shook herself and took up her needle once again. Whatever could have turned her thoughts so strangely? she wondered.
