The black carriage rolled to a slow, grinding stop over the loose gravel.
They reached the Kingsley estate as the sun was slowly descending. The sky was painted in brilliant, bruised shades of deep purple, burnt orange, and fading pink. The fading light cast long, dark shadows across the front lawns of the massive country manor.
Delaney looked out the window. Her heart pounded a slow, steady rhythm against her ribs. The house looked exactly as she remembered it. The tall stone chimneys, the wide front steps, the perfectly manicured rose bushes her mother had planted. It was a beautiful home, but it held absolutely no warmth for her anymore. It was simply a locked vault she needed to crack open.
A footman in plain uniform hurried forward and pulled the heavy wooden door open. He pulled down the small metal steps.
Delaney got down from the carriage.
