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when the old man’s valet had run through the halls, wailing out the news of his death, that she had immediately set about readying Gabriela and herself for the journey to Gabriela’s new guardian. General Streathern’s death, following as it did hard on the heels of his seemingly prophetic words to her, jolted and frightened her, lending an eerie importance to what he had said. Had he foreseen that his death would come that swiftly? And had he foreseen other things, as well—things that had made him urge her to take Gabriela safe out of Lord Vesey’s hands?
    She had sat up with Gabriela the rest of the night, holding the girl while she cried out her grief until Gaby fell, finally, into a restless slumber. Jessica had remained by the girl’s side, dozing by fits and starts in the padded rocker beside the bed, thinking about the General and letting her own tears flow for the man who had been so kind to her, standing by her when the rest of the polite world had scorned her. She had not cried like this for anyone since her father’s death ten years ago.
    The next morning, she had told Pierson, the butler, about the General’s last instructions to her, and he had immediately set two of the maids to packing up her and Gabriela’s clothes and other necessities for the journey. He would not have ignored the General’s orders in any case, nor would any of the other servants, but Jessica could see in his eyes that he agreed with the General about the wisdom of removing Gabriela from Lord Vesey’s vicinity.
    Jessica had gone about her business, seeing to the funeral arrangements and notifying all who needed to be notified of the old man’s death, including Lord Vesey at the inn in the village—even though it was like a stab wound to her chest to think of that loathsome man’s probable pleasure at the news. She had penned letters to the General’s friends, telling them of his demise, and another to the Duke of Cleybourne explaining the situation, while the servants went about the necessary arrangements to the house—draping crepe above doors and turning mirrors to the wall, muffling the door-knockers. Every spare moment, Jessica had spent with Gabriela, trying to ease the pain of this new death and separation.
    The girl was white and hollow eyed but calm, not giving way to tears again until the last moments of the funeral. Jessica’s heart was heavy for her. Gabriela had had to suffer more sorrow than a fourteen-year-old should bear—losing both her parents when she was eight, and now losing the man who had been a grandfather to her, her only real remaining relative, for one could scarcely count Lord Vesey. Now all she had left were Jessica and the stranger who would be her guardian.
    Despite the girl’s sorrow, Jessica knew that she had to explain to her why they must leave as soon as possible. She did not, of course, explain Lord Vesey’s depravity to her, deeming it unsuitable for a young girl’s ears, as well as exceedingly frightening for her. However, as it turned out, she did not need to justify leaving. As soon as Gabriela learned that they were going away in order to avoid Lord Vesey, she was eager to leave.
    “I hate him,” she told Jessica vehemently. “I know it’s wrong. He is old and deserves respect…but he gives me the shivers. The way he looks at me…it’s as if a snake had crossed my path.”
    “I understand. It is an apt analogy,” Jessica agreed. “He is a wicked man. Your great-uncle thought so, too. You must never be alone with him. If he comes into a room, you leave.”
    “I will.”
    At the funeral, Leona wept in her lovely way. Jessica wondered why the woman bothered, since the General was dead. Did she hope to influence the attorney who would read the will? Or was she simply unable to pass up an opportunity to focus everyone’s eyes on herself?
    Jessica herself struggled not to cry, sitting beside Gabriela and holding her hand. She knew that she needed to be strong, for