Pippa looked down at their hands for a moment as they walked, then up toward his face. The sadness returned to her eyes when he brought up the past. He needed to know though, needed crucial information about her if this were to work. "Well, I was born in Boston and my father was in the textile industry. I suppose you would call my father a blueblood individual if you'd ever met him in person. He was a kind but stern man. I had a brother too, who was fiercely protective of me since I was the girl." She paused and then looked ahead, wrapping her arm around his and leaning into him. She looked up at him once more, her dark eyes made even darker as the sky was starting to fade into night's darkness.

"My mother was a good woman, very soft spoken, and very proper. I miss them dearly. I can talk about them now without crying. I remember the last time I saw them, their smiles and warmth. It was for my 18th birthday, I left school for a weekend to see them and I still remember the smell of chicken and rosemary, and the big chocolate cake, and the goblets of champaigne because of me being a woman grown. My father gave me this locket that day," she said softly before lifting it and showing it to him, the delicate silver oval.

"I remember my papa letting me feel the wind on my face in our country estate as I rode the dappled gray mare he gave to me when I was a child. I remember the way mama hugged me whenever I had a good cry, and the lovely food that cook made for us, and the smell of wildflowers in the summer. I had a happy childhood."