Page 19 of Hearts of Locke Hill

He pressed his back against hers once more in a gentle shove. “Nobody can answer that question.” He paused. “Except to say that Daniel saved your life. That was the last thing he did. That’s how important you are, Violet. That’s how important you were to Daniel.”

Her heart pinched for the loss of a brother who’d cared for her that much. Would he be angry with Father for dismissing her? “I’m not important to my father. I don’t think he even likes to look at me. He looked at me today, and it was such a startling thing, I couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at me. At my eyes.”

She felt Cyril’s back expand against hers and heard the release of his breath. “Well,” he said. “I know how important you are to your mother. Look at all she’s done to show it. I didn’t understand so much when I was eight and made to study with an over-precocious little baby.”

“I was four!”

He ignored her protest. “But egads, Violet, I know more of society now. Your mother, and mine, and my father, if I’ll be honest, have defied the laws of society to teach you so many things.Especiallybecause you’re a girl.”

She broke off a long blade of sweetgrass and placed the white tip between her teeth. How would it have been if her mother hadn’t allowed her to study in secret? She could think of one word: suffocating. “That is true. I can’t imagine how it would beif both my parents—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence, filled with deep gratitude for a brave mother.

She did not doubt her mother loved her. Not one bit.

“As for your father,” Cyril continued. “I don’t know what to say. If it were me …” He paused again, and she knew he was thinking very hard about how to express his thoughts. She doubted very much he could even imagine his own father saying such a thing to him. She could not even fathom it. How different people were.

He leaned his head back against hers. “I’m so very sorry, Violet,” he whispered. “It is beyond me. Perhaps, in time, he’ll see what he is risking in pushing you away. But know you have others in your life who see you for everything you are.”

Violet removed the spent stalk from her mouth and bit her lip. “Even you?” she dared to ask.

He leaned away and turned, and she did the same.

His eyes sparked with mischief, and the sight brought unexpected relief. “Oh, I see you, all right. Every sharp twist of your thoughts, every challenging glare, every dodge and parry and, heaven forbid, crow of triumph over my loss. Lud, and your set jaw when I do win.”

She unleashed a laugh, and it felt good. Better.

“You are a girl, it’s true,” he said and sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “The most determined, clever, mischievous, capable girl I’ve ever met. Frankly, you are exhausting.” He collapsed on the ground, his arm over his eyes, a grin on his face. He peeked at her.

She couldn’t help laughing. She couldn’t help collapsing on the ground as well, her head near Cyril’s. She laughed again, and he joined her. “You know,” she said, chuckling, “it is rather exhausting, being so wonderful.”

He groaned and she laughed again. She gazed up at the robin’s-egg sky filled with puffy white clouds, and she decided that, despite how her heart ached over her father’s rejection, she would be the best Violet she knew how to be.

Chapter 5

Cyril helped his mother and then Ruby out of the car.

Ruby adjusted her hat from the breezy drive, staring at the moss-covered home blending itself into the trees, shrubs, and vines before them. “I was just out this way. Violet took us to—”

She’d stopped midway through her sentence and Cy lifted his brow. “To what?” he asked.

“Oh.” She glanced back at the main road and then off in the distance. She smiled at him. “Just for a drive. You know how she loves her Rover.”

Cy had heard a ridiculous rumor that Miss Whittemore of Kinthwaite had given her car a man’s name. Now that he thought on it, it might be true.

Rather than comment on Violet Whittemore’s automobile or her predilection for driving it, he focused on the task at hand.

He joined his mother in studying the roof and its twin chimneys visible from the tree-covered drive. He would have studied the rest of the house, but it was difficult to make it all out in the overgrowth. His stomach sank. If first impressions held any weight, this was not the property they’d hoped it was.

“Oh my,” his mother breathed.

“It’s quite … mossy,” he said.

His mother reached for his arm, holding his coat sleeve. “Iremember being here,” she said, her voice a reverent hush. “As a little girl. Oh, it’s lovely.”

Cy swung his gaze back to the house and blinked. He tipped his head to the side and squinted.

“I never connected the memory of this cottage to Sir Winston,” Mama continued. “It had nearly become a figment of my imagination instead of a memory, but it’s real. And here in the heart of Dorking.”

Cy looked at his mother and she glanced in his direction, then read his baffled expression more thoroughly.