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MILES MAY HAVE FALLEN asleep in peace, but he did not wake in it. A piercing shriek woke him instead, followed swiftly by flailing limbs and an elbow to the ribs. Acting purely on instinct as his mind struggled to free itself from the dregs of slumber, he closed his arms around his feisty assailant and held her in an ironclad grip.
“Let me go! Miles, let me go this instant.”
At the sound of his name he shot instantly awake, eyes blinking into focus. In one glance he noted the smoldering fire, the stone walls, and, last but certainly not least, the furious blonde held trapped in his arms, her blue eyes sparking with outrage as she demanded her release.
In a rush the events of last night came back to him. Riding through the rain, finding Dianna freezing beneath the willow tree, carrying her back here, to the abandoned gamekeeper’s cottage. After that, no doubt due to exhaustion, his recollection became a bit blurry, but he vaguely remembered laying down beside her and then... well, then this.
“Nothing happened,” he said immediately, hoping to calm her. “You fell asleep in my arms. I brought you here. Started a fire and-”
“And took advantage of me!”
“Now see here,” Miles began, dark brows darting together as annoyance rapidly began to replace any lingering feelings of concern, “you should be thanking me, but putting an elbow through my bloody ribcage. You want me to let you go? Fine.” He opened his arms and gave her a little push. “Go.”
Sputtering, Dianna rolled towards the fireplace and sat up amidst a tangle of skirts, shoving pale chunks of hair behind her ears. “I suppose a thank you is in order,” she mumbled grudgingly.
“I am sorry, but I didn’t quite catch that.”
Her chin lifted, sapphire eyes finding and seeking his. Though her lips twisted in obvious displeasure, as though the words physically pained her, she repeated them once more. “I said thank you.”
A grin broke out across Miles’ face. Kicking his legs out in front of him, he leaned back, bracing his palms on the floor. Bright morning light, unhindered by storm or cloud, flowed freely into the cottage, indicating dawn had broken. They’d made it through the night... and he could think of no greater reward for his efforts than waking beside Dianna. Hearing her say ‘thank you’ was, as the saying went, icing on top of the proverbial cake. “I do apologize, but something must be wrong with my hearing. Must have been all that thunder. One more time, if you would.”
“You will not be hearing those words coming out of my mouth again anytime soon, Miles Radnor, so I suggest you have your ears checked. No doubt they’re blocked by all the stuffing in your head.”
His tiny kitten, Miles noted with appreciation, had grown claws. In the past Dianna would have never dreamed of speaking to him in such a blunt fashion. Her strict upbringing demanded she play the part of a lady at all times, no matter the circumstance or provocation. He was pleased to see she’d grown more spirited and found a voice and an opinion all her own. Even if that opinion held him in very low regard.
He stood up, uncoiling his lanky body into a stretch that nearly brought his fingertips to the rafters. Ever the gentleman - when it served him - he extended an arm out to Dianna, but with a sniff she ignored the gesture and rose gracefully to her feet without assistance.
During the night her dress had dried, but the hem of it remained stained dark with mud and creased with wrinkles. Her hair was in similar disarray and stuck out from her head at all sorts of angles, short blonde curls springing every which way. A bit of dirt smeared one cheek. The other still held the imprint from a button on his shirt sleeve.
To Miles’ way of thinking she had never looked more comely.
“Where are we?” she asked as she crossed to the front window and peered out through the dusty glass.
“An abandoned cottage on the edge of Ashburn.” Retrieving his boots, Miles resumed his seat on the floor as he tugged on first one and then the other. Getting up he went to stand beside Dianna but she stepped quickly away from him with a sideways glance of warning. He bit back an irritated sigh and crossed his arms. So that was to be the way of it. He’d saved her bloody life, nearly risking his own in turn, and still she gave him the cold shoulder.
Bloody females.
There was no understanding them and, unfortunately, no living without them, though God knew he’d tried over the past four years.
Seven women had shared his bed during his travels abroad. He’d cared for them all but loved none, for only one woman had ever claimed his heart and she stood before him now... ready to tear it - and him - to shreds.
“I need to get back. Aunt Dianna and Charlotte must be frantic.”
Knowing the fear he’d felt before finding her, Miles could only imagine what Dianna’s loved ones were thinking. “There is a trail not far from here that leads directly back to Ashburn. If we go on horseback-”
“No,” she said firmly, cutting him off. “I do not ride.”
“It would only be for a short-”
“No.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but the genuine flicker of fear he saw flash across her face had him grinding his teeth together in silent restraint. As a child Dianna had always been apprehensive of horses, but never so wary as to be unable to ride. He could not help but wonder how else she’d changed during his absence, and what other things he had missed during his absence.
In the grand scheme of things four years did not seem like such a long time, but where he and Dianna were concerned it might as well have been an eternity. They were not the same people they’d been. They both had new fears. New hopes. New dreams. New ideas for a future; he with her, her without him. In one way they knew each other better than anyone else. In another they were complete strangers.
Miles knew he had loved the girl Dianna had been, perhaps not as much as she had loved him, but as much as he’d been capable. Now he loved the woman she had become, and while she’d loved the boy she once knew, she had no love for the man.
The bitter irony of it all did not escape him.
“We can walk. It will take a bit longer, but the rain has stopped and it looks pleasant enough outside.”
She tilted her head to the side. “You are letting me have my way, just like that?”
Miles nodded as he opened the door. A rush of crisp autumn air blew in, carrying with it the scent of damp soil and leaves. “Just like that.”
“Very well.” She walked past him only to come up short a yard or two in front of the cottage, her eyes growing wide as she turned in a slow circle. “Oh, how beautiful.”
After making certain the fire was out completely, Miles joined Dianna. He took a cursory glance around, but while her face was alight with wonderment as though she were seeing diamonds glittering on the trees he saw nothing but... well, trees. “Yes,” he said absently, his mind on other things. “Beautiful.”
“You are not looking close enough. There, up on that branch, do you see how blue that bird is?”
Miles followed the direction of her arm as she pointed towards the top of a tiny sapling. “It’s blue because it’s a bluebird,” he pointed out reasonably.
“And there, look at that oak. It looks as though an artist took a brush and painted on the leaves by hand. They’re so bright and vibrant.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “The trees always change color this time of year.”
“You know, that was always your problem.” Turning to face him, Dianna placed both hands on her hips and frowned. “You are so busy trying to get to the next thing, you never stop to see what is around you now.”
Was that what he did? Taking a breath, Miles looked again at the bird. It was, he decided, a rather alarming shade of blue. Whether that was a good thing or a bad, he supposed it was something worth noticing. And the leaves on the oak were rather magnificent, a blend of reds and oranges and deep golds. “I see it,” he said defensively. “I see it all.”
“Do you?” Dianna asked quietly. “I’ve often wondered.”
Getting the feeling that they were no longer talking about birds and trees, Miles cleared his throat. He should have welcomed any conversation between them of a personal nature, but like a well that had gone dry the words he needed most were nowhere to be found. “The path is that way. Let me get my horse, and we can go.”
He found his mount behind the cottage grazing on fallen leaves, looking rather damp and downtrodden but otherwise no worse for wear. Greeting the bay with a gentle stroke down its broad shoulder, he untied the reins from the saddle and looped them over one arm. “You’ve earned yourself extra oats and a few apples as well, that is if I can sneak them out beneath Cook’s nose.” The bay nickered and shoved his muzzle into Miles’ chest hard enough to send him stumbling back a step. “I suppose I deserved that. Come on, old chap. Let’s go collect the lady and get you home.”
But when Miles rounded the corner of the cottage, Dianna was gone.
Dianna walked briskly in the direction Miles had indicated. After dragging herself over two fallen trees and ducking beneath a few low hanging branches - one of which had held a cobweb she was still trying to get out of her hair - she found the path. It was narrow and twisting, but easily navigated in the bright light of day with no rain to hinder her vision She kept looking back over her shoulder, but for some reason or another it seemed Miles had chosen not to follow her.
Good, she thought silently. A bit of distance was exactly what she needed to clear her mind against the traitorous thoughts that had begun sneaking not only into her head, but her heart as well.
Thoughts she had no business thinking.
Thoughts about Miles’ hard body pressed up against hers.
Thoughts about the weight of his arm draped over her hip.
Thoughts about what it would feel like to have his mouth-
“Rubbish,” she said loudly, startling a pair of songbirds into flight. They chirped angrily at her as they flitted from one branch to another, colorful feathers ruffling in annoyance. “Complete and utter rubbish.”
Picking up the ragged hem of her skirt keep it from the leaves and sticks that littered the trail, Dianna continued to traipse through the woods, her step noticeably more forceful than it had been a moment ago.
Her brain, she decided, must be waterlogged. It was the only explanation that made any sense, for surely if she were in her right mind she wouldn’t dream of thinking about Miles’ body, let alone how handsome he’d looked this morning with his rich brown hair tousled from sleeping on the floor and a shadow of dark scruff clinging to his jaw.
Yes, he’d rescued her, and yes, he’d done so at his own peril and yes, he’d looked incredibly dashing doing so, but one act of bravery did not erase four years of heartache. She would send him a handwritten note in thank you, and that would be that. Just because their paths had crossed twice in a matter of two days did not mean they had to continue doing so. Her life would go on as it had been.
She was happy. Healthy. She had friends who loved her. Suitors who were interested in her. Miles’ reappearance changed nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.
Then why, a small voice intruded, can you not get him out of your mind?
Feeling a slight pull on her skirt Dianna spun around, a blistering retort already forming on the tip of her tongue, but instead of Miles she found only a pricker bush, its thorns entangled in the delicate muslin fabric of her dress. Kneeling, she carefully pulled the thorns free of her skirt, hissing out a breath when one found its way into the soft pad of her thumb. Sucking on the wound she stood and resumed walking.
Sooner than she would have expected she found herself once again immersed in familiar surroundings. The graceful swans she’d admired yesterday morning watched her as she went past, their glinting black eyes revealing nothing as they moved silently through the water with barely a ripple.
When Ashburn’s gabled roof came into view she could have wept in relief, but instead squared her shoulders and kept herself carefully composed. At least until Charlotte came flying out from one of the servant’s doors and sprinted across the long sloping lawn like a woman possessed, her yellow skirts billowing out behind her.
“Dianna!” Cheeks flushed, eyes wide with both alarm and relief, Charlotte skidded to a halt. In her haste the straw hat she wore perched over her brow came askew and she ripped it off impatiently, tearing out her coiffure in the process before gripping both of Dianna’s forearms in a tight squeeze. “You’re here! You’re alive! You’re unharmed! Now where the bloody hell have you been?”
“Could we discuss it in the solarium over hot tea and something to eat?” Even with the sun shining she was still cold, Dianna realized. And frightfully hungry.
“Of course,” Charlotte said immediately. Tucking one arm around Dianna’s waist she guided her inside as though she were an invalid. “Tea and anything that is left over from breakfast,” she told the servant who greeted them at the door. Taking in Dianna’s rather bedraggled appearance with wide eyes, the servant nodded and scurried away. “And those little cakes with the chocolate frosting we had last night for supper,” Charlotte called after her. “Oh, and don’t forget the peach cobbler. I had two bowls at dinner and another before breakfast,” she confessed in a whisper as she propelled Dianna down the hall. “It is positively delicious.”
“Where is Aunt Abigail?” Dianna asked, noting every room they passed was empty.
“Upstairs resting. Almost everyone is, except for Gavin. He had to leave to attend unexpected business in London before dawn. I would still be in bed as well, if not for the baby trying to kick a hole in my side.” Charlotte pressed a hand to the middle of her softly rounded abdomen and shook her head. “She’s a strong little imp. I will have a maid bring up a note to the master suite that you have returned safe and sound. Abigail wanted to be wakened if there was any news, but the poor dear seems rather tired. Best to let her sleep, I think. She was up more than half the night. We all were.”
Feeling a pang of guilt that her absence had caused so much trouble, Dianna followed Charlotte into the sun filled solarium and sat in the same chair she’d occupied just yesterday morning. “I feel horrible,” she said, her hands twisting in her lap. “I never meant to become lost, but I fell asleep beneath a willow tree-”
“You fell asleep beneath a tree?”
“Yes and then-”
“Weren’t you concerned about caterpillars?” Charlotte’s shoulders shook in an exaggerated shudder before she reclined all the way back on a velvet chaise lounge and nudged off her walking slippers, letting them fall to the floor with a quiet thunk thunk. “I hate them. They’re so soft and wiggly.”
“There were not any caterpillars.”
“Thank goodness.”
“But” - Dianna took a deep breath - “Miles was there.”
Charlotte’s nose wrinkled. “All things considered, I think I would have preferred the caterpillars.”
Despite the knotted ball of tension in her chest, Dianna managed a tiny smile. “Yes, well, I doubt caterpillars would have been able come to my rescue. Somehow Miles found me. I still do not know how. I was half frozen, and don’t know how much longer I could have borne the cold and the rain.” Even the memory of it caused a shiver to trickle down between her shoulder blades. “He carried me to an old abandoned gamekeeper’s cottage in the middle of the woods.”
“And?” Charlotte demanded, sitting up on her elbows when Dianna trailed off into silence. “He carried you to an old abandoned gamekeeper’s cottage in the middle of the woods and?”
“And... here I am.”
Charlotte gave a very unladylike snort. “Oh no you don’t. I want to know everything.”
Fortunately, Dianna was temporarily saved from revealing every detail of her night spent with Miles when a brisk knock sounded at the door and Charlotte’s ravenous appetite won out over her curiosity. With a meaningful glance at Dianna that clearly said they would shortly return to the events of last night, she glanced at the door and called out, “Come in!”
Two maids, neatly dressed in muted gray with white aprons and matching caps, entered one behind the other and set down a large platter of food on a long sideboard against the far wall before coming around to prepare the tea service.
“Just a bit of sugar and a spoonful of honey. Thank you,” Dianna said, gratefully accepting a cup of tea once it had been prepared to her specifications. Blowing across the top of the murky brown water to cool it, she took a sip as the maids excused themselves and left the room. The warm liquid felt positively divine as it slipped down her throat, helping to warm her from the inside out. Taking another liberal sip before setting her tea down, she joined Charlotte at the sideboard where her friend already had a large plate piled high with sausage, thinly sliced ham, two pieces of bread coated liberally in jam, and an enormous spoonful of peach cobbler.
“Get two pieces of cake, won’t you?” she asked. “I don’t seem to have any room left on my plate.”
Dianna bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Did you miss dinner?”
“Certainly not.” Charlotte looked appalled at the very idea. “And this is not for me, if that is what you are thinking.”
“Oh no?”
“No. It’s for the baby. She is hungry all of the time.” Taking a knife and fork, Charlotte returned to her seat and promptly tucked in. “She has a preference for sweets,” she said, speaking around a mouthful of bread. “As well as meats and puddings. Can’t abide vegetables, though. Or that awful watery broth they’ve started serving already as though we are in the middle of winter instead of the beginning of fall.”
“How extraordinary,” Dianna commented as she carried her much smaller plate across the solarium and sat down, “that your child likes all the things you do.”
Charlotte paused with her fork in midair. Amusement glinted in her vibrant gaze, although she kept her mouth perfectly straight. “Uncanny, isn’t it? Now eat a bit and then tell me precisely what happened in the cottage.”
Contemplatively chewing on a piece of sausage, Dianna tried to decide how much she wanted to tell Charlotte. The truth of it was nothing had happened... and everything had happened. Because as much as she desperately wanted to pretend any lingering feelings for Miles had been extinguished long ago, her aching heart was telling another story entirely.
For reasons that were still not clear, Miles wanted her. He’d said as much outside the stables, but even if he’d not spoken a single word she would have still known. It was the way he looked at her, as though he could stare at her all day and it would still not be enough. It was the way he’d held her this morning and all through the night, as though he never wanted to let her go. It was he had kissed her-
“DIANNA!”
“What? What?” Jumping in her seat, Dianna nearly spilled her tea and sent her plate of food tumbling to the floor. Catching both in the nick of time, she set them aside and pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “In heaven's name, what?”
Charlotte fixed Dianna with a knowing stare. “I called your name several times. You were daydreaming. I do not suppose I have to guess about whom.”
“I wasn’t daydreaming,” she said defensively, even though she’d been doing precisely that. “I was merely thinking-”
“About Miles Radnor.”
“No, I wasn’t thinking-”
“Do not dare lie to me Dianna Foxcroft, especially about a man. Do you hear me?”
Hungry and bossy, Dianna noted, although neither of those things were new where Charlotte was concerned. Of the two of them Charlotte had always been the more outspoken, never afraid to say exactly what was on her mind at any given moment without a care for whether it was good or bad. Dianna alternately admired her friend for her boldness and at times - such as now - found it slightly irritating. If she couldn’t even manage to get Miles out of her own head the last thing she wanted to do was talk about him.
“I do not wish to discuss the matter further.”
Charlotte’s auburn brows darted together. “But what about last-”
“I said,” Dianna interrupted, “I do not wish to discuss it.”
Their eyes met. For once, Charlotte was the first to look away. “Oh very well,” she sighed. “I do not want to upset you, especially after everything you’ve been through. But dear, this is not something that can simply be swept under the rug. You were gone for nearly an entire day and night without a chaperone. The fact of it is, the only person who can vouch for your whereabouts is, well, the person you seem so determined not to talk about. If word gets out that you spent the night with him...” Her voice trailed off, but then she didn’t need to say anymore. Dianna already knew exactly what she wasn’t saying.
If it were discovered that she’d stayed the night with a man outside the sanctity of marriage the results would be nothing short of disastrous. Her reputation would be ruined. Her good name thrown to the wind. Any potential suitors she might have had would disappear in the blink of an eye, for no one wanted a wife who could be considered spoiled goods.
It wouldn’t matter that nothing had happened between her and Miles. Oh no. The ton was never so discerning. Scandals were viewed strictly in black and white, with the woman always receiving the short end of the stick, no matter who was actually at fault.
It wasn’t fair. Then again, in Dianna’s experience, life rarely was.
“I went to see him yesterday,” Charlotte said suddenly.
Dianna paused with her cup of tea halfway to her lips. “Who?”
“Radnor, of course. Oh, do not look at me like that.” Charlotte made a face before she reclined all the way back on the chaise lounge, using both hands to gently massage her belly. Sunlight glinted in her hair, turning the tousled copper strands a bright fiery red. “You disappeared without a word. How was I to know if he’d taken you?”
“Miles is guilty of many things,” Dianna said wryly, “but I don’t believe kidnapping is among them.” At least I hope not.
“Where Radnor is concerned I’ve learned it best not to set my hopes very high.”
Even though her tea had long since cooled, Dianna still blew across the top before taking a sip. “You never liked him, did you? Even when we were children.”
“I thought we weren’t speaking about him,” Charlotte hedged.
“Oh go on,” Dianna said with a sigh. “He is all I can think about anyways.”
“Very well. In that case, I never liked the idea of him. Forcing two children to become betrothed before they even know what marriage means is beyond antiquated, not to mention horribly cruel.”
“Miles had no control over that,” Dianna pointed out. “It was our parent’s doing.”
“Details, details. I forgot to ask, where are your parents? I don’t recall seeing them at the wedding or the reception.”
“In London. I will be joining them there at the end of the week.” To begin, yet again, another season. Dianna frowned faintly at the thought. She’d come to dread each season more than the last and was not looking forward to this one in the least. While most women - and even some men - lived for the months between November and May when high society came alive, Dianna positively loathed the endless parade of balls, parties, plays, and luncheons.
She had long ago grown tired of pasting a faux smile on her face and keeping it there from sunup to sundown. She’d grown tired of the whispers. Tired of the stares. Tired of thinking if things had turned out differently, she would be spending the winter tucked away in the country with her husband and their children, a daughter with her blonde curls and a son with his father’s piercing green eyes... “Although all things considered, I should be leaving before Saturday,” she said hastily, earning a raised brow from Charlotte.
“Why on earth would you be in such a rush to get back to London? Surely not to see your parents.”
It was no secret - at least between close family and friends - that the Foxcroft’s were not a loving family. They respected each other, but they’d never understood one another. As though as Dianna remained quiet and well-mannered they left her to her own devices, and she’d stopped expecting them to pay more attention to her than they did their never ending whirlwind of social events long ago.
Placing her half empty teacup on a glass topped coffee table, Dianna stood up and walked to the large bay window overlooking the front lawn. After the storm last night the foliage was lush and vibrant, from the gardens surrounding the manor to the trees lining the stone drive, their leaves caught somewhere between the lingering traces of summer and the bright colors of autumn. She braced her fingers against the sill, pressing until her knuckles turned white. “I am afraid of what will happen if I remain,” she whispered.
“With Radnor, you mean.”
“Yes.”
Dianna could not see Charlotte, but she heard her sigh clearly enough. “If you do not want anything to happen, then do not see him. It is as simple as that. After all, there’s nothing that says you have to. Don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be.”
“But it is complicated,” Dianna cried in a rare display of true emotion as she spun from the window. “It has always been complicated, and I fear it will always be complicated. I loved him Charlotte.”
Her gaze unreadable, Charlotte quietly asked, “Do you love him still?”
“I... I do not know,” Dianna confessed miserably. Shoulders hunching, she sat on the edge of the sill and looked down at her hands. “I don’t want to. But after I saw him at Aunt Abigail’s wedding reception and again last night... My mind is a jumble. I don’t know what to think anymore. It seems as though he has changed, and he says he wants to make amends, but I don’t know if I can trust him with my heart again.”
“Nor should you, until you are absolutely certain his renewed affections for you are nothing less than genuine.” Charlotte toyed absently with a loose curl hanging down behind her ear. “I will say that after speaking with him, I agree with you. He does seem to have changed. For your sake, I hope it is for the better, but only time will tell. Whatever happens, remember there is no rush. You waited for him for four years. He can certainly wait a bit as well.”
Yes, Dianna thought silently, he certainly could.
She may not have known what she felt for Miles, but she did know her feelings would not be clear in a day, or a week, or even a month. Perhaps returning early to London would be best after all. It would give her the space she needed, and enough distractions to keep her mind occupied on something other than Miles Radnor.
When they were young, he had consumed her entire world. Every thought had been of him. Everything she’d done had been for him.
If - and that was a very large, very questionable if - she decided to give him a second chance, it would be on her terms. Miles could be a part of her world, but he would never again be the entire thing.
She wouldn’t allow it.
“Aunt Abigail will be disappointed,” she said, thinking out loud, “but hopefully she will understand why I need to depart early.”
“Of course she will,” Charlotte agreed. “If you’d like, I can even go with you. Without you or Gavin here there would really be no reason for me to stay.”
“Aunt Abigail adores you.”
“As I do her, but there are a hundred and one things that need my attention at Shire House,” she said, referring to the Graystone’s palatial manor in the middle of London. One of the largest private residences in the entire city, it was where she and Gavin spent most of their time, for although they also owned a manor not far from Ashburn, nearly all of Gavin’s business dealings required him to be present and accounted for.
“In that case,” Dianna said, “I would love it if you came with me.”
“Excellent.” Springing to her feet with surprising quickness given the amount of food she’d just devoured, Charlotte clapped her hands together. “Now why don’t you go upstairs for a bit. Get out of those filthy clothes, take a nice hot bath, and a long nap. We’ll have one last dinner with everyone tonight and leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
Accustomed to following her mother’s orders without question, Dianna didn’t bat an eyelash at Charlotte’s, mostly because a hot bath sounded absolutely divine, as did a long nap. “What about you? What will you do?”
“Oh I believe I will stay here and read a bit,” the redhead said airily.
Perhaps if Dianna weren’t so tired and her mind not so preoccupied she would have been able to tell Charlotte was lying through her teeth. As it stood she merely smiled and nodded before slipping out of the solarium and dragging herself up the long staircase one step at a time.
Waiting until Dianna was gone, Charlotte hurried down the hall and into the front drawing room. Finding parchment and a quill inside the drawer of an antique writing desk, she penned a letter quickly and efficiently, scarcely lifting the tip of the quill from the crisp white page. When she was finished - a mere four sentences later - she blew on the ink to dry it, folded the letter into an envelope, and rang for a maid.
When one arrived a few moments later, slightly out of breath and cap askew, she pressed the letter into the girl’s hand and look her squarely in the eye. “I need this to be taken to Winfield with all haste. Do you know where it is?”
“Aye Mrs. Graystone. My little brother works in the stables. He can get it there.”
“Excellent.” Charlotte took a deep breath. “Might I ask your name?”
Looking slightly bewildered by the personal question, the maid said, “Nessa Roberts.”
“Nessa, I have one other request to make of you.” When the maid warily bobbed her head, Charlotte continued, “If anyone asks, I did not see you today and we did not speak.”
“We didn’t?” the maid said uncertainly.
“And you certainly did not deliver a letter to Winfield. Do you understand?”
“I did not deliver a letter to Winfield,” Nessa repeated after a long pause. “Aye. I understand.”
Ignoring the trickle of guilt at the back of her neck, Charlotte smiled and squeezed the maid’s arm. “Thank you ever so much, Nessa. I am in your debt.”
Bemused but obedient, the maid performed a short curtsy before she hastened from the drawing room, leaving Charlotte standing in the middle of it, one hand wrapped around her belly while the other rubbed her chin.
She’d know soon enough if her decision had been a good one.
Now there was nothing to do but wait.