Hanna Elliot had worn the ring faithfully at first. Some part of her still clung to the hope that all was not lost. But as the days turned into weeks she finally took it off and set it atop her dresser. When weeks gave way to months, the ring went back into its box, where it gathered dust until it was moved to Hanna's unmentionables drawer. For the first few years, she took it out on the anniversary of the day she'd received it, allowing herself to wallow in what might have been . . . She had been all but stamped out of Derick Wentworth's mind. Sure, he thought about her occasionally, especially on cloudless nights when he lay on the bow of the Laconia looking up at the stars. But as time went on, Derick began to feel grateful that it hadn't worked out, for one thing was certain: if he ever did settle down, it would be with someone who knew her own mind. Someone who went after the thing she wanted without hesitation. Someone who would never allow herself to be persuaded otherwise . . .