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enough blooms to brighten every room in the house.”
    So, she did like gardens. It was a pleasant surprise. No one had been able to do justice to the roses since his mother had passed on. His sister Clementine had scolded him about their sad state on her last visit. Perhaps if he married Cynthia . . . . He cleared his throat and attempted to change the subject. “Actually, I far prefer the maze.”
    She hadn’t thought of the Lewiston maze in years. She could feel herself brightening just remembering the fun they had had there. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear you kept that as well! After all the times we lost you in there, I’d have thought you’d want to tear the thing to the ground.”
    He smiled, sharing the memory. “You five were scamps, no doubt about it. But for all Jonathan and I shouted and chased you about, it was a great deal of fun. To tell you the truth, I miss it.”
    Cynthia frowned, but he seemed sincere. “You cannot mean it. Your sisters and I were awful to you. I don’t know how you put up with us.”
    He looked away. “I suppose one is willing to put up with a great deal when one is lonely.”
    She started, and although he still refused to meet her gaze she found she had to believe him this time as well.
    “Well,” Jonathan put in, “I’m sure our Cynthia has outgrown all that.”
    Looking at her in the black widow’s weeds, Daniel could almost believe him. “Then that’s a pity.”
    She felt herself blushing under his steady regard and lowered her eyes. He seemed to understand how she had been feeling lately, that there seemed so little to enjoy in her life outside the boys. A rose garden to tend or a maze to wander through would have been most welcome.
    “But surely you came here to discuss something more than gardens, old fellow,” Jonathan prompted.
    Daniel frowned at him. He knew he wasn’t making tremendous headway, but Jonathan’s prodding would not help. Perhaps he’d said enough for one day. He rose. “No. I just wanted to bring your sister the candy.”
    “I don’t understand,” Cynthia replied, returning his frown.
    He smiled at her. “No, I didn’t think you would. Good day, Mrs. Jacobs, Jonathan.”
    She rose, and Jonathan rose with her. Together they saw him to the door. “Yes, well, thank you for the candy, Mr. Lewiston,” Cynthia told him, relieved that the confusing visit was at an end. “I will be sure to share it with the boys.”
    “Yes, you do that,” he said with a nod as Jonathan opened the door. “Tell the boys I look forward to their next visit.”
    Her brow cleared. That was it. The candy was a bribe to keep the boys coming to visit. She supposed she had been a bit forceful the first time she had seen him again. “I’ll let them know. Good day.”
    As soon as the door closed behind him, he sighed in relief.
    He really should have known better. He shook his head as he climbed into his waiting carriage. Cynthia no more saw a suitor in him now than she had when they were both in their youth. He was a fool to let three little boys convince him he could succeed in winning her. Even desperate as she was, she could do far better.
    And she was desperate, he could see that clearly. He didn’t usually notice clothing, but it was hard to miss the fact that the boys were quickly either outgrowing or wearing out every stitch of the black mourning clothes, which he was beginning to believe was all they had. And Cynthia’s mourning dress, for all its careful hemming, had obviously been made for someone larger and taller than she was. He could remember a day when she would not have allowed herself to wear the same frock twice in a month. Yet he had seen the same dress both times he had visited.
    But that doesn’t mean she’s willing to take you, my boy , he chided himself. Our Cynthia can whistle up a prince. Small chance she’ll settle for a frog .
     

Chapter Four
     
    The boys were good as gold for the rest of the afternoon, and, as if that wasn’t enough