As she stood motionless at her window, she again caught a glimpse of something moving through the night, lurching unevenly in the shadow of the shrubbery.
But then the movement disappeared, and when Mira tried to discern a form in the darkness, she saw nothing but trees and bushes. She stared intently, her attention unwavering, until she satisfied herself that there was no one in the garden.
She pulled the draperies closed and chafed her arms briskly. It was nothing, she thought. Nothing but a trick of light and fancy.
Again the morning brought rare sunny skies, without even a trace of cloud. The day was as brilliant as Mira’s outlook, her mind clear and fresh after several hours of peaceful, relieved slumber.
After waking poor Nan in the middle of the night, Mira did not have the heart to rouse her at dawn, so Mira dressed herself. She chose a dress the clear green color of sunlight on new leaves, a dress that suited her cheerful mood. She had balked when Madame Dupree had suggested such vibrant colors for her wardrobe, but now she was pleased she had followed the dressmaker’s advice. The bright colors brought a healthy glow to her skin and, frankly, made her happy.
As she finished tucking her curls beneath the edges of her linen cap, she gazed out her window at the patch of blue overhead and considered taking a stroll along the cliffs before breaking her fast. She happened to glance down into the courtyard garden below and there saw Nicholas seated on the ground beneath the sweeping branches of a magnolia. She marveled that she saw him at all, surrounded as he was by lush vegetation. For an instant, Mira remembered her sense the night before that there was someone in the garden, but in the daylight it was even easier to discount the entire incident as mere fancy.
She forced her attention back to Nicholas. He wore no jacket, and the white linen of his shirtsleeves against the dark green of his waistcoat echoed the contrast of the creamy magnolia blossoms against the deep succulent green of the tree’s leaves. A book lay open in his lap—he appeared to be sketching in it—and the sunlight, filtered through the heavy foliage, accentuated the wave in his long, dark hair.
With a sudden burst of resolve, Mira dashed out of her chamber and through the maze of hallways, searching for a door to the courtyard.
She had been correct. He was sketching in the book he balanced on his knees. Not wanting to startle him, she cleared her throat discreetly. “Ahem.”
“Yes, Mira,” Nicholas said, although he did not raise his head and the bit of charcoal he held continued to fly across the page. “I know you are there. The door you used creaks.”
Mira approached to sit upon a low stone bench facing him. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, she questioned, “But how could you know it was me rather than Pawly or Lady Beatrix or, well, anyone else?”
Now he did pause to look up at her, his gaze the searing silver of lightning. “Call it instinct.” A slow, hot smile spread across his face, instantly conjuring up every intimate moment they had shared in his quarters. “Or, perhaps,” he purred, “simply call it magic.”
“Am I disturbing you?” Mira was moving to rise before he answered.
“Sit. I was very nearly finished, anyway. The light was changing. You did not disturb me at all.”
She settled back on the bench. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before clearing her throat. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course. Though I suppose I cannot guarantee I will answer it.”
“Did you kill those girls?”
After blurting out the question, Mira froze, unable even to breathe. A little voice in the back of her head—one that sounded suspiciously like Nan Collins—chided her that asking Nicholas whether he was guilty was a pointless exercise, that, guilty or innocent, he would deny wrongdoing. But even with that voice imploring her to be cautious, she found every nerve was taut in anticipation of his answer. Before he said a word, she knew in every fiber of her being that, if he claimed innocence, she would believe him. After all, she reasoned, she already knew he was innocent. Logically he had to be, so his answer would merely confirm an established fact.
Nicholas’s expression did not falter in the least. He stared unwaveringly into Mira’s eyes as he finally answered her question with one of his own. “Does it matter?”