“The damp grass glittered in the moonlight, raindrops sparkling like stars. Montgomery slowly took the path through the trees. He felt a twinge in his right knee brought about by the dampness of the night. The accident resulting in his injury had been a foolish one. He’d landed on the roof of a church, but at least he hadn’t tumbled to the ground. By such small things were his life measured. If he’d read between the lines of Caroline’s letters, he would have found a way to go hom...e. Caroline would have lived, and he’d be at Gleneagle. If a trunk hadn’t been delivered to his house, he would never have gone to the Society of the Mercaii. Veronica MacLeod would have been ruined. She might have ended up on the streets, a gentlewoman spurned by her family. Instead, she was his wife. If he hadn’t read one particular article in the newspaper, he would never have begun a correspondence that led to his avocation, and in a way, his survival.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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