Nicholas chuckled, and Mira felt the vibration beneath her fingers. “I confess I am rarely mistaken for a maid.” Nicholas’s voice dropped to a mesmerizing caress as he continued, “and I had no idea you were on such intimate terms with the house servants.”
She was suddenly acutely aware that she was still leaning against Nicholas, pressed against him in a most improper fashion. But when she attempted to right herself, his hands tightened on her shoulders, holding her still as his smoke-and-shadow eyes gazed deeply into hers, searching for something.
Mira held her breath as Nicholas’s grasp softened, and he began brushing his thumbs over the skin of her arms, his touch slipping just beneath the edge of her sleeves to stroke her tender skin. Fear and excitement coursed through her, turning her knees to jelly, and she let out the tiniest little moan as he bent his head ever so slightly.
A thought flashed through her mind, clear and sharp and certain. Nicholas is going to kiss me.
“Ahem.”
Nicholas’s head jerked up, Mira jumped away from him as though she had been burned, and they both turned to see who had interrupted them. Not three feet away stood a tiny, reed-thin woman, certainly no older than Mira herself, her head encircled by a wild halo of blond curls that defied gravity. Her face was tilted downward in an aspect of respect, but Mira noticed the woman studying Nicholas through her lashes, her small body tense and her gaze wary.
The small woman bobbed a quick curtsy. “My lord, my lady, Mrs. Murrish sent me up. I am Nan Collins, your lady’s maid.”
Mira stared mutely at the woman. She had never had a lady’s maid, saw no reason she needed one now—after all, she had been dressing herself for years—and this particular lady’s maid had just caught her in an illicit embrace. She did not have the faintest idea what to say.
Finally, Nicholas broke the tense silence. “Very good, Nan. Mira, I am pleased that your journey was comfortable.” Mira’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. Had she mentioned her trip? She had no recollection. “I shall bid you goodnight, then,” he added, before turning on his heel and disappearing down the darkened hallway, his shadow bobbing wildly along the wall as his left leg dragged along the carpet.
Mira stared at Nan.
Nan stared at Mira.
“Oh, dear,” Mira said, “you must… I mean, I… We…”
Suddenly, Nan smiled, timidly at first, but it quickly bloomed into a genuine grin that put dimples in her cheeks and an impish glint in her eye. “Never you mind, miss. You must be right weary. Perhaps we should get you ready for your bed.” Nan slipped past Mira and hurried across the bedchamber to the dressing table.
Mira followed. “To be honest, I’ve never had a lady’s maid before. I…don’t know that I particularly need any help.”
Nan’s smile widened. “Well, aren’t we a pair? To be honest, myself, I’ve never been a lady’s maid. I was hoping you could tell me what to do.” Both women began to laugh, the absurdity of the situation dissipating what little tension remained.
A relieved smile still playing on her lips, Mira plopped down on the bench before the dressing table. “Nan Collins, I must say I am pleased to meet you. While I haven’t a clue what to do with a lady’s maid, I find I am in dire need of a friend. After all, it seems I am to marry soon, and I am quite out of my depth.”
Nan’s smile vanished as quickly as it had come. A worried frown creased Mira’s brow. “Nan, you seemed…guarded, anxious even, when Lord Ashfield was here.” No sooner were the words out, than Mira remembered something her friend Delia had once said—about Delia’s brother and the maids—and a horrible thought crossed her mind. The blush returning to her cheeks, she choked out, “Oh heavens, are you and Lord Ashfield… You are not…”
Nan, too, colored at the suggestion. “Oh, no, my lady, I would never.”
Sighing with relief, Mira interjected, “Please call me Mira.” Seeing Nan’s skeptical expression, Mira rushed on. “I do not believe friends should use titles, and, besides, I am still just a ‘miss.’”