NO FLIPPANT remarks. No challenging retorts. Only disbelief and heart-wrenching pain echoed in the parlor the next morning. “I can’t believe you did this. You actually did this to me,” Wryn whispered to Mark and Catherine over and over again, her voice quaking, growing softer and softer with each word. Eventually, she collapsed against the back of her chair in the east parlor and let the papers she had been reading slip to her lap. Wryn’s reaction to the document making her Emma’s ward tugged at Emma’s heart. With Mark and Catherine sitting together in the settee directly in front of their niece, Emma sat off to the side next to Mother Garrett and watched as huge silent tears flowed down the younger woman’s cheeks and dripped off the tip of her chin. Her face was as pale as the moonflowers that would soon blossom at night, and she was trembling so hard she had wrapped her hands around her waist. Indeed, Wryn’s reaction was so surprising and so disturbing, Emma was tempted to cancel the plans she had worked out late last night with Mark and Catherine.
