“Well—”

“Be honest, treasure,” Roane had coaxed softly.

Hearing him so tender with his cousin made my heart squishy.

He called her “treasure.”

“S-She wasn’t entirely on board with the idea,” Caroline had admitted quietly.

I’d twisted around in my seat to meet her gaze. “You told her I didn’t give you a choice, right?”

Her answering smile had been more confident, even a little mischievous. “I did. Very clever of you.”

Grinning back, I’d replied airily, “I do try my best.”

The cousins had shared a smile, and when we arrived at the bookstore, I’d tried to ignore the meaningful look of gratitude that bordered on adoration from Roane. He’d squeezed my hand before hopping out to get the groceries.

He really had to stop looking at me like that.

Over an hour later we were seated at the small dining table in the apartment above the store, talking and laughing as the cousins shared stories about village life and growing up there. Shadow was sprawled in front of the wood burner despite the fact there was no fire blazing in it. His light snoring was a gentle backing track to our conversation.

Sometimes the cousins would share these secret, wary looks and seem to hesitate before talking, but I gathered it had something to do with the way Caro had been raised. Roane was probably checking with her before speaking to reassure her that he wouldn’t mention how it was for her with Helena.

At least that was my guess.

As for me, I spent time waxing lyrical about living life as an independent woman. “I come and go as I please. I get to travel. Right now, I’m working on making my editing business a full-time gig.”

“You’re doing it then?” Roane asked, sounding pleased.

“I’m going to try. It probably won’t be feasible, but at least it’s something to concentrate on while I try to find another editing job in Chicago.”

Roane frowned a little but nodded. “Good plan.”

Was it the mention of Chicago that made him frown?

It was making me frown too.

Two weeks would be up before I knew it, and I still hadn’t figured out what I wanted from my life.

But Caro didn’t need to know that. “It was really scary moving out on my own at first, but I love it now. The sense of freedom is amazing.”

This time Roane shot me a knowing, teasing look, but I ignored it. I was determined to plant as many seeds in Caro’s mind as possible about grabbing hold of the reins of her life from her controlling aunt.

We were eating the light-as-air Victoria sponge cake Caro had baked when Roane excused himself to use the restroom.

As soon as he was out of earshot, I turned to his cousin. “Your baking is off-the-charts delicious, and Roane says you’re good enough to bake professionally. Have you ever considered approaching the baker for a job?”

I’d met the baker when I’d gone there to buy lunch. His name was Antony Graham. I’d gotten his life story from him when I went in—early forties, divorced, had his kids every other weekend, and he’d run the bakery in Alnster for twenty years.

Caro shot a look at the door where Roane had disappeared out of, and then turned to me. Her dark eyes were bright with frustration. “I have. Two years ago I went to Tony with my baking. I was so nervous.”

“What happened?”

With a heavy sigh, she lowered her eyes to the table. “He said he thought I was a good baker but asked me if Aunt Helena knew I’d come to him about a job. When I said no”—she met my gaze again, anger mingling with the frustration—“he said he wouldn’t employ me, knowing it was going directly against the wishes of my aunt. I said, ‘But I’m twenty years old,’ and he said . . . ‘Everyone knows Helena’s in charge of your life, and I don’t want to deal with her wrath. Go home, little girl.’”

“He said what?”

I closed my eyes, wincing at the fury in Roane’s voice. When I opened them, Roane was rounding the table, indignation etched into every feature of his face. He placed his palms on the table and bent toward Caro, who was wide-eyed with concern.

“He really said that?” Roane asked, clearly forcing calm into his voice.

“Roane, it’s not worth getting upset over.”

“I beg to differ. Why didn’t you come to me, treasure? I didn’t . . .” He slid into his seat, his expression changing to one of guilt. “If I’d known you were trying to make a career out of baking, I would have helped. I would have gone to that spineless prick of a man and—”

“And what, Roane?” Caro placed her hand over his. “Threatened him? I don’t want a job that way. I just . . . I just wanted to see if other people liked my baking . . . if I was good enough to do something with it.”