Seconds passed while her hand hovered above a brass knocker decorated by the devil’s grinning face. How appropriate, she thought, the handle of doom. Stop it! You know you’ll find hope here, or at least some help. She pulled her trembling fingers back to rub her forehead. If only my conscience would stop nagging. Agitated nerves shot streaks of nausea throughout her stomach, and the thought of what lay ahead made her take a step backwards. I can’t stand out here all day. I need Uncle Robert’s support. He’s the only one who can guide me through this—this disaster. Resolved once more, she stretched forward, lifted the golden lever, and banged it down with force. Her beloved uncle appeared, swung open the door, and stood behind the screen. His puzzled expression was quickly dispelled by an enormous smile of welcome for the girl making the racket. He had no chance to speak, because as soon as she spied him, the control Daniell Howard had been maintaining broke. “Uncle Robert, can we talk?
