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never really seeming to reach one another. The bond, Genevieve realized, had to be deeper than blood alone. It had to be forged by love… a thing that had never touched the Elliots.
    For the first time in her life, Genevieve left the teeming city of London. Sitting quietly beside Piggot in a hired coach, she marveled at vast expanses of rolling meadows, neat thatched farmhouses, and fresh-faced people going about their business at a relaxed pace. It was like another world here in the countryside, everything soft and green, so blessedly quiet, the sky a blue she'd never seen before.
    When they reached Southampton, they found the tiny walled port shrouded by a gentle springtime fog that swirled above the river Test and beyond the West Quay, where the
Blessing
was anchored.
    Genevieve looked out upon the world from a seat atop an empty wooden barrel, watching barks and small shallops being laden with weathered crates. Her favorite sight was that of departing ships, their sails puffed out proudly by the wind, disappearing over the horizon to ports unknown. Now that her destiny had been laid, she was anxious to be on her way.
    Finally, Piggot escorted her unceremoniously to the West Quay. The
Blessing
lay ready, her full bow and sleek stern cutting a handsome profile against the sky. A small group of women had just boarded. They were an oddly matched lot, bound, as Piggot explained, to find husbands or work as bonded servants in Virginia.
    Genevieve eyed the group curiously, pitying them. There was a mousy girl, painfully plain, who quailed before a brash, loud-talking young woman with painted lips and unnaturally yellow hair. Older ladies, widows perhaps, clutched nervously at the rail, their eyes revealing their worries about what awaited them. Genevieve was glad she wouldn't be subjected to the humiliation of bonded servitude.
    She climbed the wooden gangplank and set foot on deck. Barefooted crew members in loose breeches and leather jerkins scurried about and climbed through the rigging, making ready to unfurl the sails.
    "Wait here," Piggot said. "You'll be shown to your quarters with the other women."
    She nodded and relaxed against the rail. The soft, salty breeze lifted her dark curls, cooling her face and shoulders. She hugged her bundle close and smiled into the wind.
    Suddenly, a movement caught her eye. She looked around in time to see Prudence and Roarke stepping onto the deck.
    It
was
Prudence, but not the retiring young governess Genevieve knew. The girl looked glorious. Pale, as usual, but not in an unhealthy way. There was an unmistakable air of assurance about Prudence that Genevieve had never seen before. She hesitated, her eyes going to Roarke Adair, the handsome, vital presence at Prudence's elbow. He bore himself stiffly, yet calmly, surveying the activity with sharp blue eyes. He bent and murmured something to Prudence, who nodded and watched him as he strode toward the stern, where blocks of chalk were being brought aboard to be used as ballast, later to be ground into plaster in the colonies.
    Once Roarke was gone, Genevieve made her way to Prudence, stepping over lengths of stout rope and wooden grates.
    "Hello, Pru."
    "Genevieve!" Prudence embraced her. " 'Tis a miracle, is it not, that we're to be together in Virginia? And neighbors at that, Mr. Piggot says. Your Cornelius Culpeper has property near Dancer's Meadow, in Albemarle County."
    Genevieve couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "If you could call my being gambled away in a card game miraculous."
    Prudence's face fell. "Roarke told me. He's sorry, Genevieve."
    "Never mind. I wasn't happy about the way this came about, but now that it's done, I'm ready for an adventure." She gave Prudence a sideways glance. "You aren't angry with me, are you, for blurting out everything to the Brim?"
    "No, Genevieve. Lord knows where I'd be if you hadn't spoken out."
    Genevieve swallowed. "Still, I'm sorry. I've since realized that it's