“Whoa! Miss Fitzhenry! A good morning to you.” If anything, his smile widened further, and a devilish glint lit his eye.
Mira became acutely aware of her alarming state of undress. She pulled the shawl tighter about her shoulders and raised her chin a notch, determined to brazen out the situation even though her face was burning with mortification.
“Good morning, Mr. Hart. Are you just come from Blackwell Hall?”
“Just, miss. It is a glorious day out there. Blue sky, birds singing, woodland creatures frolicking…all is right with the world.”
He could not be further from the truth, Mira marveled. “Mr. Hart, I thought I heard someone moving about a bit ago. Is that,” she nodded toward the satchel, “is that by chance your second load?”
“No, miss,” Pawly replied, face crumpling into a frown of deep concern.
“Oh. Did you see anyone else on your way in?”
“No, miss.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure it was nothing. Probably just the wind in the trees or a mouse scurrying across the floor.”
“Yes, miss,” he replied, sounding skeptical. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but the satchel is from Nan Collins. Some, uh, items for you,” he added with a meaningful glance at the shirt and shawl Mira wore.
“Oh. Thank you.” The words were like sawdust in her mouth.
Without further hesitation, she scuttled across the floor, cutting a wide berth around Pawly, to grab the satchel from the bench. She looked around for someplace private to dress. With Olivia Linworth’s locket burning her palm, she did not want to go upstairs, where Nicholas still slept, but the cottage was small and simple and there were no other rooms. There was not even a screen or curtain behind which she could duck.
Pawly must have realized her predicament, because he began backing toward the front door.
“There’s a bit of cheese and bread in the satchel as well, miss, if you wish to break your fast. If you will excuse me, I should really go and check on the horses.”
As soon as the door swung shut behind Pawly, Mira dumped the contents of the satchel on the table and drew off the linen shirt, letting the shawl fall to the floor where she stood. Shivering in the morning air, she rushed to dress. Every brush of fabric against skin conjured a fevered memory of Nicholas’s caresses, but she forced her trembling fingers to complete their task.
Unsure what else to do with it, she slipped Olivia’s necklace over her head and tucked the gold locket into the bodice of her gown, where it rested right next to the pendant Nicholas had given her.
Leaving the shirt on the table alongside the satchel, the cheese, and the loaf of bread, she took up her shawl again, hurried over to the door, and ducked out. She wasn’t sure what it meant that the locket and shawl were here at Dowerdu. Perhaps nothing. But it looked bad.
Very bad indeed.
Head bent and legs flying, she headed toward the sound of the waves, confident that the pathway disappearing into the trees would lead her to the cliff-side path back to Blackwell. She had almost reached the tree line when Pawly’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Miss Fitzhenry? Where are you going?”
She turned around slowly, using the time to form her answer. “I am feeling a bit restless, Pawly, and I know Nan and my family are probably worried about me. I thought I would just start back to Blackwell Hall.”
“But Miss Fitzhenry, after what happened yesterday, do you really think it is a good idea to walk back alone?” Pawly’s words were deferential, but there was a hint of steel to his tone.
“I am certain I shall be just fine, Pawly. I promise.” Mira cringed at the note of pleading in her voice.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Fitzhenry, but Lord Ashfield would have my hide if I let you go back alone. If you don’t want to wait for his lordship to rise, at least let me accompany you.”
If Nicholas had something to hide, and Pawly was his trusted companion, Mira was not certain she could trust Pawly either. “No, no, Pawly. I must insist. I will be perfectly fine. You should stay here and tend to his lordship’s needs.” She was backing away from the cottage before she finished speaking.