My fingers trembled as I held the photograph, unable to tear my gaze away from the woman's face. The resemblance was uncanny—those eyes, that smile, even the tiny mole at the corner of her eye. It was like looking at an older version of myself.
"Who is she?" I asked again, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Beaumont sat down beside me, his eyes kind but searching. "That's Lady South, Evelyn Bella's mother. Your Mrs. Johnson's mother."
The room started spinning. Mrs. Johnson's mother? That would make her my—
"This was taken at our estate in Clance about thirty years ago," he continued. "I'm the young man standing next to her."
I glanced at the figure I hadn't even noticed—a younger Edward Beaumont, looking proud and formal beside Lady South's horse.
"The resemblance is remarkable, Juliana," Mrs. Eleanor Beaumont said softly. "When I saw you ride today, it brought back memories. Lady South had that same natural grace on horseback."
