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is a treasure no one could resist.”
    She chewed her lip for several seconds while waging some kind of war within herself and then finally, with a small huff of breath, she spoke.
    “My father had told me that there was a family of tiny people living in the woods at the bottom of Willow Hall. They only came out when they were sure no one would see them because they were fearful that their secret would be discovered.”
    “You mean they had other secrets besides the fact that they only reached your knees and lived in the woods?” Will teased.
    “Six-year-olds are literal creatures, my lord. My interest was purely in the secret, not the viability of the story. And, of course, I also once believed everything my father told me.”
    Will heard the pain in her words. She obviously still felt her father’s loss keenly. Releasing her, he touched the headstones of his parents and whispered the words, “I’m home now, rest easy,” before he once again took Olivia’s arm and led her out of the cemetery.
    “I should return to my sisters, my lord.”
    “Please finish your story, Olivia,” he said as they climbed the rest of the path to the seat. Lowering her onto the wooden bench, he took the place beside her. She shuffled aside, putting several inches between them, and then perched on the edge. The old Livvy would have never moved away from him; in fact she would have settled her skirts, making sure to let her fingers brush his thigh.
    “It does not look as if much has changed down there.” Will looked at the village that lay below them. Small and bustling, it was a hive of activity as carts, carriages and people scurried about. From this distance they resembled a colony of ants.
    “Change is inevitable, my lord,” she said in a flat voice.
    “Tell me the rest of the story, Olivia.”  
    “I slipped out of the house when no one was looking and ran to the woods. I walked and walked, lifting leaves and branches, kicking aside dirt but I could not find the little people. When I grew tired, I looked around and realized I was hopelessly lost and could not find the path home.”
    Will remembered her as a six-year-old skipping down the aisle in church; she had been beautiful even then.              
    “I could always wail louder than anyone else,” she added with a small tired sigh that tugged at his chest.  
    “Your parents were out riding and overheard me. Your father picked me up and asked why I was out there alone and I told him that I was trying to find the little people who make the best sweets out of lemon and honey.”
    Will laughed. “So that was the secret.”
    “Yes, and to their credit your father and mother never laughed at me. In fact, your father said that he was sorry to be the bearer of bad news but he had heard that the lemon and honey people had moved on to Inverness in Scotland.”
    Will couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like this. If only his servants could see him now; all of them believed him a serious, unsmiling man.  
    “Your father lifted me up into your mother’s arms and then they took me home. They sang songs to me all the way and then stayed to take tea with my parents. I worshipped them from that day onwards. I was devastated when they passed.”
    His laughter slowed and this time it was he who sighed.  
    “They were the very best of parents, Olivia. Thank you for sharing your story with me,” he said, looking at her. “However, I find it hard to believe I am only just hearing this story now, when we spent many hours together talking of anything and everything in the past.”
    “I have no further time to sit and converse with you, Lord Ryder.” She quickly regained her feet thereby, in her mind, ending the conversation. “I must leave you now as my sisters will start to worry if I am overlong.”
    “You once called me Will, Olivia,” he said, standing.
    Ignoring his words she dropped into a quick curtsey and then winced upon rising.
    “What is wrong