He spun around to find a lady with kind eyes standing a few feet away. She stepped forward hesitantly, pushing her light brown hair behind her ears.
“My name is Mirrie.” She pulled a face. “I should more properly introduce myself as Lady Mirabel de Neville.”
Adam could not place the name. He bowed low. “Pleased to meet you, milady.”
“Oh, please do not address me as such.” She folded her hands over the swell of pregnancy, making him quickly avert his gaze. “I will never grow used to my title. I am just Mirrie.”
He glanced at her cautiously, taking in the sumptuousness of her cloak and the glint of pearls at her throat. She looked like a lady to him.
“I grew up here,” she said conversationally. “But I well remember the first day I came. How overwhelming it was. That’s why Jonah asked me to come out to you.” Adam raised his eyebrows and Mirrie smiled. “Jonah sees and understands far more than he ever lets on.”
Just like the time in the carriage, Adam reflected that this was hardly reassuring.
“You must be fatigued after your journey from Ember Hall,” she continued, holding her cloak against the pull of the breeze. “I once lived there, you know?”
He was surprised into speech. “I did not.”
“With Frida, before she married Callum.”
Ah yes. Belatedly, he recalled the comments of Agnes the cook. “I am an old acquaintance of Callum’s,” he offered, cautiously.
“Oh, I think you are more than that.” Mirrie reached a hand toward the stone archway and leaned her weight against it. “Callum wrote to Tristan, telling him he had no cause to worry about Esme. He said he had left her in the care of a man whom he loved like a brother.”
It took a moment for him to make sense her words. His initial glow of pleasure quickly faded when he reflected what had happened since Callum wrote that recommendation.
“Callum was wrong,” he said gruffly, lowering his eyes from the slanting sunlight. “Esme was in danger, after all.”
“So it would seem.” Mirrie did not deny it. “She was fortunate indeed that you were there to protect her.”
The lady put a hand to her forehead and Adam cursed his ill manners. “May I assist you, milady? Is there some place you can sit?”
“Many.” She gave a little laugh. “But what I would like most of all is for you to escort me back to the keep. If you like, I can show you to your chambers and you rest awhile before dinner.”
“Before dinner?” He could not hide his surprise.
“Of course.” She offered her arm, leaving him with little choice but to take it. “You are our guest of honor, Adam Hawker.”
Mirrie walked steadily beside him, but he could not forget her show of tiredness, nor her visible swell of pregnancy. He must not meet her kindness with churlishness.
“I have never been a guest of honor before,” he commented, drily.
“A great fuss will be made of you,” Mirrie announced, as if she was delivering good news. “I can already tell that you are a great favorite of Jonah’s, which is no small achievement.”
The idea pleased him, but in truth, he longed for more.
Will she say aught of Esme?
Adam’s heart quickened as they reached the fountain and Mirrie turned to him, thoughtfully.
“Try to look beyond the trappings of wealth to see the de Nevilles for who they really are,” she murmured, so quietly that he had to lean closer to catch the words. “It took me a long time to learn that lesson.”
He blinked at her in surprise, and she gave his arm a little shake.
“Do you promise?” she persisted.
“Aye, milady.Mirrie,” he corrected himself at her sharp look of reprimand.
She smiled and picked up her skirts to better ascend the steps. Adam could only follow close behind, wondering what on earth the next hours may bring.
