Chapter 1

Four years after the divorce, I ran into Alexander Hayes at the perfumery.

He was there to pick out a fragrance for his pregnant wife, Charlotte Rivers.

I took half a step back and offered a polite, measured nod. "Mr. Hayes."

He stood silent for a long moment before finding his words. "Amelia... you've changed."

I smiled faintly and said nothing.

Nothing had really changed.

I just didn't love him anymore.

*****

The spring rain arrived without warning. Clutching a canvas scroll, I ducked beneath the overhanging eaves and slipped into the corner perfumer's shop.

Before I could catch my breath, a familiar voice reached my ears.

"Good mistress, do you still have the essence of white jasmine in stock?"

I lifted my gaze to see Alexander at the counter, carefully examining the crystal vial the shopkeeper had presented.

"Is the fragrance too pronounced?" he inquired. "My wife has a sensitive constitution, and I worry a stronger scent might not agree with her."

The shopkeeper beamed. "Mr. Hayes, your care for Mrs. Hayes is most evident. This is a rare distillation from this year's first bloom, exceptionally mild and perfectly suited for a lady of her standing."

"I shall take it," Alexander said softly. "And include a vial of the lavender water as well. Charlotte has been restless lately, and her sleep has been troubled since her confinement began."

I stood just inside the doorway, rainwater dripping from my cloak.

Just as I meant to retreat quietly, the shopkeeper noticed me. "Good heavens, Ms. Summers! You are soaked through."

She hurried over, saw the damp scroll in my arms, and tutted sympathetically. "Oh, the painting is ruined. What a pity. You shan't be able to present it to your patron today."

Alexander turned. His eyes settled on me, and for a moment, he seemed utterly arrested.

But I merely took a step back and offered a curtsey, my voice even and devoid of inflection. "Mr. Hayes."

He parted his lips, but no sound emerged.

The shopkeeper fretted, "This wretched rain! Ms. Summers, do come near the hearth and warm yourself. You will catch your death."

"That will not be necessary," I replied with a slight smile. "I have matters to attend to. I shall take my leave."

Alexander seemed to regain himself, his voice urgent. "Amelia, wait."

He strode over, took the wrapped parcel from the shopkeeper, and held it out to me without hesitation.

"Take this," he said. "The essence is quite valuable. Consider it payment for the painting."

I did not accept it.

He studied my face, his tone firming. "You still resent me, is that it? Amelia, after all these years, can you not simply—"

"You are mistaken, Mr. Hayes," I interjected quietly. "The fragrance is for your wife. It is not meant for the likes of me."

With that, I stepped back.

A draft from the door caught my sleeve, pulling it back momentarily to reveal the old, pale scar upon my wrist.

It was the mark I'd left behind years ago, when I cut my wrist at the nunnery.

Alexander's gaze locked onto it, his eyes widening briefly in recognition.

I adjusted my sleeve and turned without hesitation into the grey curtain of rain.

His call followed me, strained. "Amelia! Please..."

I did not look back.

So many years had passed. My heart had long since settled.

By the time I returned to the Willow Song Bar, I was drenched through.

Maggie rushed over with a dry blanket, clucking her tongue as she began to pat my hair. "Amelia, look at you! Come, sit by the fire. I'll fetch some mulled wine."

I sat, staring at the ruined canvas in my hands.

Such a waste. Weeks of work, lost to the rain.

Maggie returned with a steaming cup, then leaned closer, her voice low. "Amelia... Mr. Hayes's carriage followed you all the way to the lane. Has there been some trouble?"

Before she could finish, the door chime sounded, and Alexander strode in, his greatcoat dark with rain, droplets falling from the brim of his hat.

Maggie started and quickly set the cup down, dipping into a respectful curtsy.

Alexander barely acknowledged her. His eyes swept the modest tearoom, his brow furrowing. "Amelia, is this where you reside?"

"Are you here for tea, or for the evening performance?" I asked, my tone businesslike. "Choose what you like on the menu. The musicians do not arrive before eight."

He seemed momentarily at a loss, then took a step closer. "Amelia, must we persist in this charade of strangers?

"I am only concerned about your welfare. I can assist. There is no need for you to live in such circumstances. There is no shame in accepting help."

"I am quite content, Mr. Hayes. Your concern is unnecessary," I said, lifting my cup and taking a deliberate sip. "Your wife is with child. Your place is at her side, not here. Do not keep her waiting."

He opened his mouth to reply when a harried-looking footman hurried in, his face pale. "Sir! Mrs. Hayes is taken with a sudden pain. You are needed at once."

Alexander's expression shifted instantly, anxiety etching his features. His eyes held mine for a fleeting second before he turned on his heel and hastened out into the rain.