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Marsillia,
    I regret to inform you that your nephew, Amedeo, and your two great nephews, Massimo and Piero, have perished in a shipwreck off the coast of Great Britain. I, the baby of the family, Luciana, have survived. Currently, I am living in the household of a Mr. Reed Hargrave. While he is generous to have kept me this long, I am in want of a way to return to Italia. If you could find it in your hearts to send me a boat ticket home, I would be forever in your debt and willing to work for your in your flower shop as repayment. You can send such a ticket in a return letter to the address on the front of this envelope.
    Lovingly,
    Luciana Renaldi.
    She reread her letter twice before deeming it good enough. After finding their address scrawled on one of the pages in her father’s books, she sealed the letter shut and set it aside. It was her hope and prayer that within the next few weeks she would hear back from them and be able to return home. In the meantime, she would do whatever she could to make as little trouble as possible. She owed Reed that much.

Chapter 6
    A week had passed since Miss Renaldi—Luciana as Esther told him—informed Reed she’d written her aunts. To his great relief, he had seen little of her. Though she ate with them, she kept herself locked away in her room throughout the day. Sometimes he saw her outside standing in the knoll beyond his study window. And then there were the times he passed by her in the conservatory.
    During their meals together, she sat quietly, staring at her plate with great interest. When he passed her in the hallway, she looked away. But when she was in the conservatory, he could hear her humming, murmuring to herself as she strolled through the aisles. It was the most at peace he’d seen her. He was glad she kept to herself, although part of him wondered what her story was. He didn’t wonder enough to warrant asking.
    With a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other, Reed lounged in his chair. Finally a moment’s peace. Esther had pestered him the entire morning, requesting to play dolls. He had given in, of course, because he always did, and spent the better part of the morning playing as Mrs. Susie Mills, mother doll. Now he simply wanted to sit back, drink his wine, and read his book.
    A knock on the door snatched his dream away like loose paper in the wind.
    “Come in.” Reed snapped his book shut. It thudded on the desk
    Peters poked his head around the door, looking sheepish. “Sir, Mr. Lipold is here to see you.”
    The name sent Reed’s eyebrows rising. Jack Lipold was his oldest, and quite possibly his last, remaining friend. He’d been away on the continent for some time, wasting his inheritance on drink, women, and oriental rugs. Reed had heard little from his friend, but after writing him detailing the news from the last two weeks, he supposed Lipold couldn’t keep himself away. He’d always harbored a flare for the dramatics, and anytime someone was on the brink of scandal, Jack made sure he was there just in time for the story to break.
    “Is he?”
    “Yes, sir. He’s waiting in the foyer.”
    “Thank you, Peters. You may go.” Reed rose from his chair and adjusted his waistcoat with a sharp tug. After making sure the ribbon at the base of his neck still secured his hair, Reed left his office, locking the door behind him.
    He found Jack, as Peters had said, standing in the foyer, studying the vaulted ceiling. Jack was a few inches shorter than Reed’s six foot two frame, but he walked as though he towered over every head in the room. His face was round and padded with extra fat on the cheeks. With smooth, slicked back brown hair, women never failed to look his way when he entered a room. Though it wasn’t his looks that enticed them. It was his cheery personality and penchant for giving out one too many compliments throughout the course of an evening.
    “Lipold,” Reed said when he reached the bottom step.
    Jack looked away from