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orphan. But she had wanted to accomplish something on her own, to have an opportunity to live outside of the shadow of her brothers. To create a life for herself worth living.
    This was it. Her opportunity was standing directly in front of her. And if she couldn’t find a way home by herself, she likely wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything.
    Pulling her lips into a tight line, she squared her shoulders. The first step to getting home was finding a sheet of paper. Surely, in a house this large, one would be easy to find.
    Setting off towards the staircase, Luciana kept her chin raised. A Renaldi never backed down from a challenge.

    The wooden straight-back chair dug painfully into her spine. Looking across the wide table, she wrinkled her nose as the view out the window was blocked by a vase of wilted field flowers. At the end of the table sat Reed. His eyes were focused on a newspaper, his fingers gripping a fork with a peculiar amount of force based upon the white of his knuckles. At the opposite end of the table sat Esther. Her eyes were fixated on Luciana, shining with amusement and wonder. Luciana returned her gaze to her plate.
    Would breakfast ever end? After spending the better part of the morning failing to find any sort of writing utensil or paper, Luciana had been ushered into the dining room by a cheerful Esther. Frustration made her neck stiff and put her teeth on edge. Who knew it was so hard to locate a simple piece of paper! She fought the urge to groan aloud and bury her head in her hands. How was she ever to get home without writing her letter? And how was she ever going to rebuild her life if couldn’t return home?
    The dining room was vast, much like every other room in the house. Furnished with only a table, four chairs, and a buffet, the high ceilings and tall windows seemed to double the room’s size. Light flooded through the window, bathing the room with a soft glow. Above the buffet was a large portrait of a young woman. She stood before a square pillar, holding a white fan in her hand. A straw hat with white feathers sat upon her head of rich auburn hair. Her nose and lips were both pinched, but she didn’t appear unfriendly. In fact, her mouth was somewhere between a smile and a smirk, as if she were about to tell a devilish secret.
    “Who is she?” Luciana broke the heavy silence, eager to divert her mind away from her aggravating day. “She’s beautiful.”
    Reed looked over his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Katherine, my late wife.”
    Luciana bit her lower lip and drew her eyes away from the portrait. Death seemed to follow her. First her mother, then her father and brothers, and now she was staying in the home of a widower.
    “So, Miss Renaldi, how long do you think you’ll be staying with us?” he asked as he methodically folded his newspaper.
    “Forever,” Esther said.
    Luciana’s eyes drifted down the table. She felt her upper lip curl into somewhat of a smile. In truth it felt like a grimace, but what could she do? She’d always felt uncomfortable around children. With limited experience and limited interest, Esther had Luciana feeling squirmish. Reed didn’t respond to his daughter, but the hard set of his jaw made Luciana think they agreed on one thing: She should be out of Yellow Brook as soon as possible.
    “I’ll be gone once I can secure passage back to Italia. I must write my aunts and see if they’ll take me in.”
    “Yes, of course. You are…welcome to stay until that passage is finalized.” He avoided her eyes and focused instead on the wilted flowers.
    Luciana sighed heavily, no longer concerned about masking her irritation. Why did he make it seem like her presence was the worst thing to happen to him? Weren’t the English supposed to be hospitable and caring? He was quite the opposite.
    “You’re too generous, Signore Hargrave.”
    At her biting and harsh tone, she should have expected the sharp glare he sent her. He’d done it