A glance at the mantel clock told her it was almost a quarter-to-six. Still early. Still depressingly dark. She hadn’t drunk her tea, she realized, but since it had likely gone cold, it didn’t appeal anymore. Neither did the biscuit, though Maxwell’s boyish comment about stealing them caused her to smile.
She curled her legs onto the settee and grabbed a nearby embroidered cushion, hugging it as she pondered all that Maxwell had said. It helped that he had not taken a defensive stance, demanding an answer then and there, but had simply stepped away, allowing her time to consider. And, as she did so, the doubts and fears, little by little, began to dissipate. After a while, lulled into sleepiness by the flicker of firelight, she stifled a yawn and stretched out on the settee, still hugging the cushion.
*
After leaving Louisa,Maxwell retreated to the sanctity of his office, where he lit a fire to dispel the chill from the room. For now, as far as pouring the proverbial oil on troubled waters, he’d done all he could.
Some things he had not spoken of, like how the sight of her in the hall that morning, recently risen from her bed, braided hair ruffled from sleep, had made him weak with longing. The desire to take her in his arms, to inhale her sweet scent and feel her mouth against his, had been nothing less than torturous.
Those things, he had kept to himself.
Several hours passed, much as they would on any other day. Maxwell took coffee and luncheon in his office, went through his mail, and even managed to write a couple of business letters. The rest of the time he spent pacing back and forth from his desk to the window, wondering.
Hoping.
It wasn’t till late afternoon, when the curtains had already been drawn and firelight and shadows flickered across the walls, that Louisa came to him at last. Maxwell rose and moved out from behind his desk, studying her as she approached, though her expression told him nothing. She halted a mere handspan away and stared up at him, a slight frown on her brow. Then she heaved a sigh, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head against his chest. “I believe you,” she whispered.
He groaned, folded her in his embrace, and buried his face in the scented softness of her hair. “Oh, my love,” he muttered, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear. “I was so afraid I’d lost you.”
“I was afraid too.” Tears shone in her eyes as she regarded him once more. “I’ve been so desperately unhappy, Max. These past few days have been terrible. I just want to put them behind us.”
“They’re already behind us.” He stroked her hair. “That said, there is something else I need to speak of, before we go any further.”
She stiffened. “Should I be worried?”
“No. In fact, Finlay is convinced I’m overreacting, and he’s probably right, but I still think it’s something you should be aware of. Come and sit with me and I’ll explain.” Taking her hand, he led her to the settee. “I almost mentioned it this morning but decided it could wait.”
Frowning, she sat beside him. “I knew there was something else you wanted to say.”
“Well, first, I have a question about your accident, one I know you’ve answered before, but I’m wondering if you can remember anything more about the figure you believe you saw. Any detail at all.”
“Why do you—?” She gasped. “Do you think it was Flora?”
Maxwell blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to think. But the day your father and I went up there looking for clues, I found a large white feather tangled in a shrub. I thought little of it at the time, but then the old gardener said the woman in the lane was wearing a hat with white feathers on it, which is why I’m asking if you can recall any specifics.”
She shook her head. “None, I’m afraid. It’s more of an impression than a memory, actually. Like a dream.”
Maxwell gave a nod. “Nevertheless, I want you to be extra vigilant from now on. Keep your wits about you when you’re out on the moor, or anywhere alone for that matter.”
Louisa pondered. “Is that why you tried to stop me from going out yesterday?”
“Aye.”
“Do you really believe she’s capable of doing me harm?”
“If I really believed that I’d have you watched night and day. So, my answer is no, I don’t, nor do I think she’ll dare to return here. But I’d rather err on the side of caution. I just need you to promise you’ll be careful, that’s all.”
She settled back and snuggled into him. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” His arm tightened around her. “Tired, sweetheart?”
“Just a bit off-kilter.” A sigh escaped her. “I fell asleep on the settee this morning and didn’t wake up till one o’clock. Archer should have woken me but said she didn’t have the heart.”
“She’s been worried about you, no doubt. Have you eaten?”
“A little. I already told the staff we’d be eating dinner together tonight, by the way.”
“Good.”
