Thomas Hayes set down the bridle he had been oiling, his weathered face thoughtful. “Mind yourself, my girl. I know that look in your eye, and I’m not sure how much longer his lordship and her ladyship will allow him to go gallivanting with the stable master’s daughter. You’re nearly grown now. It’s different than when you were children.”

Violet shook her head, fiercely certain. “William would never stop being my friend just because his parents say so. He’s not like that.”

Her father sighed, softening. “I pray you’re right, girl. Just… be careful with your heart.”

But the warning barely reached her, her heart already halfway across the fields. Then the sound of carriage wheels and horses’ hooves reached her ears, and she was off—running through the tall grass, her skirts brushing the sun-warmed blades.

She knew exactly where to wait, the old oak tree, its sweeping canopy sheltering the spot that had always been theirs.