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before. But the steely stare made her look away in embarrassment. Perhaps she should have tried a little harder to suppress her feelings. A gentle touch on her shoulder saved her from any unfeeling words he might have for her.
    “Miss Renaldi?” A young girl stood behind her chair, shoulders slumped, face ridden with red blemishes of youth.
    “Yes?”
    “Mrs. Peters says she has a message for you.”
    A spark of hope ignited in Luciana’s chest. Had someone back home heard about the shipwreck already? Had they sent her passage back? “A message?”
    “Yes, miss.” She cocked her head toward the door on the left.
    Luciana pushed her chair back, rising slowly. She nodded to Reed, who looked at her and then back at his paper, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. She glanced at Esther whose blue eyes, much like those of her father, shimmered.
    “Mi scusi,” she muttered and followed the girl from the room.
    Once in the hallway, air flooded her lungs. The atmosphere in the dining room was constricting, more so than she thought. Reed was difficult. Why anyone would feel compelled to marry him, she didn’t know. Granted, she had tried to sneak into his office and had been bitingly rude at least once, but he should allow her a measure of grace considering her circumstances. Shouldn’t he?
    After regaining her composure, she glanced about the hall. Mrs. Peters wasn’t there.
    “Where is Signora Peters?” she asked, furrowing her brow. The girl beside her simply raised her shoulders in uncertainty.
    “I’m here, child.” Mrs. Peters deep voice sounded as she skirted around the corner.
    “You have a message for me?” Luciana asked. She willed the hope spreading through her chest to stop. She only knew of two living relatives in Italy. It was highly unlikely they knew of the wreck. Even so, it was difficult to keep hope at bay.
    “I have a message of my own for you,” Mrs. Peters said. “Tread lightly, Miss Renaldi.”
    Luciana recoiled, shocked by the woman’s abrupt words. She frowned and poised to defend herself from whatever else Mrs. Peters had to say, but the other woman continued.
    “I know you’re lost and far away from home, but this is not Italy. I— We care for Mr. Hargrave and his family greatly. We do not appreciate blatant sarcasm and nosey guests. Especially when those guests have no reason for being here.”
    Blinking, Luciana shook her head. “I’m sorry, Signora , but have I done something to offend you?”
    Mrs. Peters batted her eyelashes, the corners of her mouth pulling in to a sly smile. “I’m only warning you of what trouble might come if actions like such in the dinning room were to continue.”
    The message was a strike between Luciana’s eyes. Continue acting the way she was and she would get tossed out before figuring a way home. She pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded. Embarrassment bloomed in her chest. Mrs. Peters was right. She had no reason for being in Yellow Brook yet Reed continued to let her stay, and she’d acted rotten toward him.
    From now on, she would be careful, just as Mrs. Peters warned. The house was full of eyes: the eyes of the housekeeper, the daughter, the owner. They were all watching her. And if she had any hope of getting home, she would need to watch her step.

    Later that evening, after at last locating a sheet of paper, Luciana sat in her bedroom to pen a letter to her great aunts. They were nearing the age of seventy-five and widows, living together in a ramshackle home outside of Venice. She hadn’t seen them since she was eight years old and doubted they would even remember her. But if Luciana was to travel home, she needed somewhere to go. Despite wanting to make her own way, she was brave enough to admit she needed a little bit of guidance. Surely her aunts would be willing to provide wisdom and help?
    Setting pen to paper, she wrote a short letter and wasted in no time in superfluous words:
    Dearest Aunts Rosanna and