Bound By Their Secret Passion. Diane Gaston

something about how she gave away the boxes and instruct her on how a lady ought to have done it.

      She lowered her gaze and he dropped her hand, but she still did not wish to let him go. ‘What of this inquest? Will you be accused of killing him?’

      He could lose his life.

      His face hardened. ‘I did not kill him.’

      She blushed. ‘I know, but Dixon will have said—’

      ‘He did not see what happened.’

      She did not want to obsess about who the coroner and Squire Hedges would believe, not any more than she had already done.

      She absently straightened the items left over on the table where she’d piled the boxes. ‘Things change so rapidly.’ She glanced back up at him. ‘Yesterday was such a lovely day. A lovely Christmas. That was your doing, I know. You came to Summerfield House so we could all be together.’

      His eyes darkened. ‘Not only for you. I did not want to be alone.’

      Her heart lurched for him. He’d lost his whole family. She reached out for him once more, placing her hand on his arm. ‘But you also came here for us. I am so grateful to you.’

      He glanced away. ‘To go from such a happy day to such a horrific one—I am so sorry for it.’

      She squeezed his arm. ‘You must never apologise, not for what happened.’

      His gaze pierced her again. ‘It will get better, Lorene. I promise you.’

      It must, but if he were held responsible for this dreadful event, she would never forgive herself.

      She remained captured by his eyes. It seemed as though she would stay there for ever, but he abruptly broke contact and stepped back.

      ‘I must leave.’

      ‘When will I see you next?’ It was the question of a lover, not the sort she should be asking, but it burst from her lips.

      ‘At the inquest.’

      He bowed again, turned and left.