Mira supposed that Nicholas intended his ramblings to be humorous, to make her laugh, but her attention had caught on something he said—whatever crimes I may be guilty of—and she found nothing amusing about it at all. The man before her, lazing in the grass with the sunlight filtering through the trees dappling his face, was possibly the most frustrating person she had ever met.
“My lord,” Mira said, her use of his title meant to convey that she meant business. “My lord, I do not understand this game you insist upon playing, and I do not enjoy it at all.”
Nicholas sat up, and his expression of hurt confusion almost made her back down. Almost.
“What game?” he asked.
Mira adopted her most stern expression, determined not to show weakness. “You say that protesting your innocence would do no good and, while I happen to disagree with you, I can understand your position. But you go too far, sir, when you drop hints that you really are guilty. ‘Whatever crimes I may be guilty of,’ you say. Honestly. You seem determined to provoke people and encourage their ill thoughts of you.”
An angry flush had crept up Nicholas’s cheeks as she spoke, and his eyes now snapped with annoyance. “Madam, there is no need to take that shrewish tone with me. And your accusations are preposterous. Why on earth would I encourage people to think ill of me? They seem perfectly capable of doing so without my assistance.”
Mira’s temper subsided on the wave of a deep sigh. “I believe you have answered your own question, Nicholas. I believe you encourage people to think ill of you because they do anyway.”
He did not say anything but, with his brow lowered and his jaw thrust out, Mira thought he looked more like a mutinous, watchful boy than an angry man. She stood and, taking the dark green shawl from her shoulders, spread it on the ground so that she could sit face to face with Nicholas.
Nicholas dropped his eyes to stare intently at a small periwinkle blossom. Mira reached out her hand and laid it over one of his, her touch timid and unsure.
“Nicholas, I think maybe you do care what others think. But you cannot bear the thought that you would proclaim your innocence and still be reviled. And, perhaps, you hope that someone will trust you without any protestations on your part. Simply believe in you.
“Well, I believe in you. I believe in your innocence. I believe in you, and all of your suggestions of guilt will not sway me. So you may as well save your breath. There is no need to test me, sir. My mind is quite made up about you.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Nicholas swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple sliding up, then down beneath the dark, beard-shadowed skin of his throat. When he finally looked up at Mira, his eyes were narrowed with a fierce intensity entirely at odds with his words. “Well, then. You seem to have put me in my place. I am duly chastened.”
She offered him a teasing smile. “My lord, I doubt you have been chastened since you were in leading strings. But I am glad you see I have the right of it.”
He chuckled. “You are quite the bloody-minded female, aren’t you? With that determination, I imagine you could conquer any task you set for yourself.”
“Well, I certainly hope you are correct, for I have a monumental task ahead of me.”
“Oh? And what task would that be?”
“Finding the real killer.”
The appalled expression on Nicholas’s face was comical, and Mira couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. When she laughed, he collapsed back onto the grass, the breath leaving his body in a great rushing sigh. “Oh, Mira, that was not the least bit amusing. For a moment there I took you quite seriously.”
Brow wrinkled in puzzlement, Mira responded, “But, Nicholas, I am quite serious.”
Nicholas sprang back to a sitting position.
“I intend to flush out the real killer and prove you innocent before we wed. I admit it is a Herculean task, but I see no alternative.”
“Of course there is an alternative: leave well-enough alone!”
“Nicholas, I have to disagree. It is imperative that your name be cleared of these murders before we marry.”
“Why?” he sputtered. “I have already explained that it does not matter to me what other people think and, while I might hope that one or two people should think better of me, for the most part I truly do not care. I live a solitary life. What could it matter what the empty-headed gossipmongers in London think of me? No one is about to arrest me, and beyond that, you must believe me, I have little care for the consequences of the rumors.”