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Tension radiated from Devin, and he shifted restlessly.

He had fretted about his mother between bouts of guilt for leaving England without bidding her farewell. Having never had parents, Trinity could not truly understand the complexities of parent-child relationships.

Despite Devin’s frustration and irritation with his mother, Trinity knew he loved her. He’d said so many times as he shared childhood stories.

“My mother?” He met Shillingford’s unwavering gaze.

Devin’s man of business slid his focus to Trinity, sending her a silent message before returning his attention to his employer.

Instantly, she knew. Somehow, she knew, and her heart broke for Devin.

Clasping his hand firmer, she pressed into his side, willing him to absorb her strength and comfort.

“I am sorry, Devin.” Mr. Shillingford gave a sad shake of his silvery head. “I sent a letter, but the ships must’ve crossed.”

“She…she died?”

Such agony contorted Devin’s features and distorted his voice that Trinity bit the inside of her cheek.

“She died?” he repeated, shaking his head in denial. “I came straight back. We did not even disembark. We had a strong tailwind. It only took four days.”

Did he speak to them or himself?

Trinity wept inside but refused to let her pity show.

Devin would hate it.

He snapped his head up. “When?”

“The day I sent the first letter.” Shillingford crossed his legs. “I had her buried beside your father at Seybrook Manor in Essex.”

Closing his eyes, Devin rested his head against the squabs. “Fitting since that is where I intended to banish her for the remainder of her life.”

“Devin, you could not have known.”

Trinity tried to soothe him, but consumed with guilt and self-loathing, he could not hear her.

“If I had not been so determined to spite her. To make her stop meddling and interfering.” His harsh, scornful laughter filled the coach as Mr. Shillingford looked on with understanding and compassion.

Pain blazing in his eyes, Devin speared Trinity a scornful glance. “You are everything my mother would’ve despised in a wife for me. Precisely why I picked you.”

Choking on a gasp, Trinity recoiled.

Mr. Shillingford made a rough sound in his throat, but Trinity could not bear to look at him. To see his pity or his embarrassment on her behalf.

Devin’s hurting, she reminded herself.

Do not take anything he says at this moment to heart.

How could she not?

Gone was the considerate, charming man aboard the ship. She did not know this cold, harsh, caustic person. Perhaps he wasn’t as different from his mother as Devin would like to believe.

Trinity bit her tongue to keep from blurting those unkind words.

Mrs. Shepherd’s admonition, “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks,” sprang to mind. How often had Mrs. Shepherd warned her charges to guard their hearts and words?

Toward that end, Trinity pressed her lips together and set her jaw. She would not make matters worse by responding in kind—even if Devin deserved a verbal lashing.