Loneliness and fear urged her to shout at Barnaby to turn round. Suddenly, her insides clenched with such force that she trembled. No one had ever thought of her as mysterious. A place where women did not wear black, unless one wished to be thought of as mysterious. The carriage made a sharp turn down a narrow lane that would take her to her future. Now it was her time.īarnaby, her driver, called out to the horses. As for herself, she'd done her year of mourning, enough to satisfy wagging tongues. Only it was quite romantic, and Daisy could not fault a romantic heart. One ought to curse the queen for her dogged devotion to mourning, thus causing countless widows to guiltily follow suit. A marker announcing the shift from the bondage of marriage to the emancipation of widowhood.ĭaisy was finished with black now. Though, for a time, she had loved black too. It rolled over the tongue, promising adventure and foreign climes.

Especially if, she corrected, smoothing out a wrinkle in her azure silk skirt. Moreover, three hundred sixty-six days, ten hours, fifteen minutes, and however many seconds was quite sufficient a time to stay in mourning over a man one hated. Daisy looked out into the boiling gray fog that shrouded the streets of London. Seconds needn't be counted anymore regardless. The tiny face flicked in and out of shadow as the carriage lantern swayed gently overhead. Strategic placement, perhaps, but it made it a bugger to read the time.

Three hundred sixty-six days, ten hours, fifteen minutes, and… Daisy glanced down at the heart-shaped gold watch pinned to the dip in her bodice, a strategic placement designed to draw the eye. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at Thank you for your support of the author's rights. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property.

Moonglow by Kristen Callihan