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rector was around, as if the girl knew that he had more answers than her mother.
    And Leona would be right. Her mother had no answers.
    But she couldn’t let Leona know. “They don’t forget, sweetheart. I would never forget you.”
    “Does my father remember me?”
    The question had pained Natasha and she had avoided Mr. Duncan’s inquisitive gaze. Could not meet Leona’s eyes. Marcus’s arrival had made her hard-won life a lie.
    “Your father was not there to see you born. But, I am certain––I am certain he remembers you.”
    The tears had stung at Natasha’s eyes. Without looking at him, she had accepted Mr. Duncan’s handkerchief.
    That thin cloth had felt like safety, like a bond to Little Parrington that Marcus could not break. He would not disturb her life here. He would not succeed in whatever nefarious plot he had in mind.
    But in the quiet of night, in the solitude of her bed, she could admit: the damage was already done.

Chapter Five
    It was difficult to continue on as if nothing had happened, as if her life would not forever be marked by Marcus’s presence. Natasha was exhausted, sleep impossible with the terror that gripped her.
    There was Marcus, just across town. There, also, was the great unknown. What did he want? She could not keep avoiding him forever. At some point, she would either need to run or face him. Yet all she wanted to do was hide, make time still until he left town, until her future was decided.
    There had been moments, early on during the last five years, when she had wanted to die, if only to put the memory of their love behind her. Then there had been times when she wanted to keep that memory tight, to never forget that she had loved him, that she had loved. But mostly, she lived in shadow, her emotions––other than her love for her daughter––stagnant. It was as though after five brief months of a newly awakened body and awareness of all the carnal pleasures life had to offer, she had become unsexed.
    But here was Marcus, sending her into turmoil, into the wild extremes of emotions she hadn’t felt in years. She should have heeded the warning and avoided the danger, leaving when she’d had the chance.
    She didn’t know what he wanted, but he said he loved her. She would not go back, never trade in her hard-won, false respectability for a life as his mistress. And his appearance made no sense for there were those codicils. Would he truly give it all away simply to have her in his bed again?
    She shook her head, physically throwing the unnecessary ruminations from her mind. It didn’t matter what he wanted. What mattered was what she wanted and what would keep Leona safe. Perhaps if he had found her in that first year, when her emotions were still wild and reactionary, a promise not to hurt the babe would have lured her back.
    She had loved him so deeply that she still felt the echo of that love as a wound on her soul. It was a wound that had made her question her every judgment these last years because, if she had chosen so poorly in him, if her heart and instinct had been so wrong, in what could she trust?
    On Monday, Mary returned. The girl’s cheerful presence buoyed Natasha’s confidence. Marcus would call, but he would not find her defenseless. She did not have to see him. It was market day in the next town. The skies were clear for once, and there was no reason to wait at home for Marcus to call when she could take Leona for an outing and buy some much-needed goods.
    She sent Mary to the vicarage to borrow the dogcart, dressed Leona and herself, and waited with anxiety, hoping that Mary would arrive before Marcus. Perhaps she would purchase a horse and cart of her own at the market. Natasha had resisted the convenience because it was an expense that would eat away at her meager savings, but now she realized just how much she had trapped herself.
    They arrived at Burnham Market. The large square, as usual, was set up with its row of stalls. All sorts of people