“Amy?” Lord Greystone probed. “Where is your mother?” She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “She died,” she answered in a quavery voice. “Of the plague. Last year. She fell ill and we had to leave. We went to France, and I never saw her again.” “I’m sorry,” he said softly. He moved over on the wall and placed an arm around her shoulders. “I’m truly sorry.”
