Of course, she told him she was excited for him. That he she was happy he was pursuing his dreams. She asked where they were headed next, and he said it was uncertain. "And that's the exciting part."

The exciting part.

He always said that. In his letters, he was always looking forward to something new.

Deep inside, Simone was envious. He was traveling to places she had not yet even been to. He was doing what he loved. While she only had to content herself with studying how to design dresses. Of course, he asked how her designs were doing. She told him about the new dresses she designed for her and Lydia and the little girls. He wanted to see them, but she was not confident yet, so she promised to send some by the post in the near future.

She told Lydia, of course, who asked, "Well, is he married?"

"I never got to ask. Perhaps not. He never mentioned it in his letters."

"One would think he would have already found a wife by now."

"I'm certain he would have told tell me."

"Of course, Sisi. You're friends."

Simone smiled. "Do you think he considers me a friend?"

"Well, you're not his sister, or his lover. Certainly not a stranger. You're a friend."

"Who is your new friend?" Price asked, squeezing himself between Simone and Lydia, resting his arms over their shoulders. Price had straight, light brown hair. He was easy to be around with, but he was cunning and sharp in a very nonchalant way. You would never know what bit you until he bared his bloody teeth.

"Someone from last season, a woman we met in one of the balls," Simone lied. "Have you any news on Mr. Haskett?"

"No, but we're hoping to find him soon." The three of them stopped outside the carriage. "I'll drop you both in the bazaar and return in two hours."

"Where are you going?"

"Business," he said, flicking her nose.

Price was also the forgetful kind. Two hours later, Simone and Lydia were still talking to Pauline.

"If he only settles here in Coulway, he would already be quite famous," their friend said, talking about Mr. Cavendish again. "I saw his play, and he was marvelous."

Simone smiled with pride. "Of course, he is. We tried to tell you."

"I know, but to see him with my own eyes—it was magnificent. I felt every emotion he portrayed."

"I'm quite excited to see his play tomorrow," said Lydia.

Simone said nothing, because she did not want her cousin to read more into her friendship with Daniel Cavendish. Or hint at the affections Simone may still have for the man, even after two years, and even after how she said many times before that she did not fancy him, which was slightly true. What she felt for Daniel Cavendish was adoration, but she was not hopeful.

They may merely have a foot between their windows, but their worlds were too far apart. His was exciting and magical, hers barely had little changes. He seemed to not be tied to any place or anyone, and she was tied to her family, to Abberton. He was living his dreams, she was still dreaming hers.

Lydia walked home alone after she got bored watching Simone and Mrs. Baker discuss about skirts and laces. Another hour later, with no sign of Price, she decided to go home as well. Saying goodbye to Pauline and Mrs. Baker, Simone walked the familiar streets back to Picadilly.

And there, by happenstance or fate (as she would prefer to call it), Daniel Cavendish found her.

"Miss Priest," he greeted with a small bow. "I'll walk with you," he announced with an easy smile, hands behind him.

He was wearing nothing special or fancy. Nothing like the character he played two years ago. A haphazardly knotted plain white cravat, a white shirt and brown vest, a black coat that might have seen a number of years. Yet he had an elegant air around him. Unlike Harry, his black hair was all over the place, slightly longer and caressing his nape, the front tresses tucked behind his ears.

"I never got the chance to ask about Mr. Peck. How is he?"

"Oh, he's in Abberton. He's now grown a red breast." Her face crumpled, thinking about the robin. "But he comes and goes now."

"He can fly then?"

"Of course. He's a bird, after all. It just took him a while."

"That's good to hear. Does he come on the deck?"

She nodded. Birdwatching decks were scattered around the woods near Abberton, and they also had one on the western roof. She told him all about it and he found it fascinating.

She fell into an easy pace next to him. This was no longer the same walk they shared that night in the rain two years ago. She felt safe with him. Maybe because she was quite certain she knew him well.

She stole him a look and he did the same. Simone was not certain about his, but her heart was fluttering, flying like her steps. With a smile, she bent her head to focus on her toes poking in and out of her dress. Then she thought she should have worn something more appealing—something not yellow. It made her seem like an infant, as Gale would put it. She should have worn white or blue. A wind blew past them, tugging her hair back. She should have asked Roxie and Freda to clip more pearls on her hair when they played with it that morning, she thought.

Again, she tilted her head to the side and up. "And how was that actor you talked about, Mr. Cavendish? The one who got into your nerves."

His face soured. "He's somewhere else now. Married, I believe. Still acting, the bastard."

Her laughter rang down the quiet street of Picadilly. Night was approaching, and in mere minutes, it would no longer be proper for her to be seen walking with him.

He was smiling at her when she stole another look. It was a gentle one, a friendly one. "I'm glad I can finally have a sound attached to your so-called laughter."

She frowned in confusion.

"Whenever you write, sometimes you include ha-ha, which I believe means you are laughing as you write."

"Oh," she said, face heating. "Well, internally, I am. Sometimes I chuckle, but that's the extent of it. I only imagine myself laughing because I would if I have company, which I don't, because I'm only writing a letter. My family would think I'm crazy."

The laughter in his eyes did not die even as he said, "I don't think there's nothing wrong with laughing alone."

"I'll take your advice and try, but I hope you will still send me your letters, even if my family confines me somewhere."

She relished his laughter until it slowly died. Their footsteps echoed down the street, but they were not in haste. In fact, it seemed that they were both trying to be as slow as they could. Or perhaps he was because she was the one being slow.

Another gush of wind blew and this time, it messed with her hair. She gasped and cried, "My pearls!" One or two clips had dropped to the ground, but one pearl broke free from its clasp and rolled away.

He started to run after it as she bent to pick up the clips. "Don't bother, Mr. Cavendish!" she tried to stop him. He did not. He crossed the street, stopped as a carriage drove past, and then picked up the pearl.

He jogged back to her with a grin, eyes twinkling. Mayhap she would never forget this imagine of him, running toward her. Perfect just like that.

She laughed as he dropped the pearl in her hand. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he said, looking at her hair. "May I?"

Biting her lips, she nodded. He was careful as he brushed aside strands of her hair, flipping them back to one side where they should be. "Why do women wear these?" he asked, picking some more pearls.

"I don't know," she said. "Fret not, I should tell Roxie and Freda to do a better job next time."

He stepped back and dropped more pearls on her hand. "Are they still the little devils?"

"Most certainly."

He just nodded, and they fell back into an easy pace. "How is your brother?"

"Web? He's in Birth, taking care of business, of course."

"It is not easy to be a Priest."

She burst out in laughter. "You just gave me a different picture of my brother, Mr. Cavendish, and it's quite blasphemous."

It took him a second to realize what she meant, and he laughed, too. "Ah, yes, of course." His laughter faltered and for a moment longer than she expected, he just stared at her, as if he finally saw and realized something. But whatever it was, she never had the chance to find out. "And please, it's just Daniel, Ms. Priest."

She wanted to scream then, because she was excited and her stomach felt funny. "Then it's just Sisi for you, Daniel. No Priests, please."

Another chuckle. A nod. "Will you be watching the play on the morrow?"

"Yes, with Lydia and Gale. And maybe Price and Damon if they're done with their quest."

"Quest?"

"They're looking for someone," she vaguely supplied.

He nodded and did not press the matter. "Will I be seeing you in the front row again?" he asked, stopping outside her door. "If you and your cousins would love to, I could give you a tour of the theater after the play."

Her heart soared high up in the sky, along with the emerging stars. "That would be splendid!"

His grin widened, his face as bright as it would get if there was sunlight. "I'll see you tomorrow then." He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something more, but then he closed it again and shook his head like he was laughing at himself. "Have a nice evening, Sisi."

"You too, Daniel," she said with a curtsy.

They stared again, her light brown eyes to his, their smiles reaching a painful stretch. Then they both snorted and chuckled as she turned and ran up the stairs to the door. He waited until she reached the door to give him a wave goodbye.

***

The play would have been the perfect end of the day.

At breakfast, after Price got an earful from Damon about forgetting to pick up the girls from the bazaar, he proceeded to tell them that Mr. Haskett had finally made a purchase for one ticket bound to the Americas.

The ship was bound to leave in two months. Harry had already informed the Royal Watchers and they would be ready to pick up Haskett before he could step a foot on the ship.

By afternoon, before the play, Simone and Lydia visited Pauline who told them that a man with the same description of Mr. Haskett has had fittings with the tailor in the bazaar. He was due to pick up his new clothes in two weeks.

"Marvelous! We might catch him earlier than we think!" Simone gleefully said. And to make their trip to the bazaar even more exciting, Mrs. Baker informed Simone that she had reached out to a friend in Parlton, another modiste, who would be willing to give Simone more lessons. "It's closer to home. It's perfect, Mrs. Baker, thank you!"

It could easily be understood why Simone was in a very jolly mood as they went home and prepared for the play. But as it sometimes did in the past, a perfect day did not always end the same.

Damon and Price accompanied them to the theater. They sat in the front row, expectant and giddy. The pearls on her hair were clipped more securely, and her dress had lace sleeves and it was not yellow. Nothing was amiss until the lights went out and the stage lit up.

And the actors filed in one by one, scene after scene.

There was no Daniel Cavendish.

He did not show.

He never did.

Not for a very long time.