If she hadn't seen it starting, that meant she'd caused it. He raised an eyebrow at her questions, because they made it sound as though she didn't know, but how was that possible? If she knew about the curse, if it had been her choice to end things, how had she not pieced together what was happening when he disappeared from civilized society for most of the next year?

"1890 wasn't a good year," he said in explanation, trusting she could fill in the blanks for herself. He wasn't in the habit of speaking too directly about his curse; he didn't know how he'd been able to tell her about it in the first place, when it had never worked for anyone else in his life, but if she knew then he must have done it somehow.

"Do you recognize these?" he asked, reaching below the table and pulling out a few items, one at a time, that he had brought down from the drawer in the spare room. A pair of soft kid gloves with initials monogrammed on the inside wrist. A delicately embroidered handkerchief. A locket with an opal set in the face. A silver stationary seal with initials in the face. He watched her features as he removed them and laid them on the table, trying to catch any flicker of emotion.

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