For a moment, she let herself pretend she didn’t have a heartbroken sister or any responsibilities. What if all she had to do was think of him?
“I don’t wish to hurt anyone,” she whispered.
“That isn’t the way life is, Dara. Each of us risks being hurt. That is how we learn grace and the ability to go on. You can’t protect Elise by denying yourself. It won’t work. Your constant sacrifice isn’t what she needs.”
Dara looked up at him. He was a handsome man, yes, but there was something deeper abouthim that made him remarkable and special to her. A strength that she could respect.
She also hadn’t realized she was crying, until he gently brushed a tear on her cheek with the pad of his gloved thumb. “Trust me,” he whispered, and, for once, Dara didn’t argue. When she was this close to him, she was powerless to do anything else. She was tired of fighting, especially with herself.
“Come, let us go inside,” he said. “It has been a long night.”
She allowed him to lead her into the neat brick house with its stone columns. It was pitch black. He took her hand. “My rooms are upstairs. The landlord and his wife have the ground floor. Watch your step,” he warned before guiding her up the stairs.
He turned a handle and opened the door into spacious, well-appointed rooms. The window draperies were a green-and-gold stripe, a fire was in the hearth as if someone had been waiting up for him, and there was a plate of cheese and bread along with a decanter on a side table. The settee was overlarge and upholstered in leather. A masculine piece, for a very masculine man.
A trim servant with a bald pate surrounded by a halo of dark hair entered the room. “Ah, sir, you have arrived.” His step slowed as he saw Dara. He, too, had the lilt of Ireland in his voice.
“Dara, this is my valet, Teddy. He sees to everything in my life. Teddy, this is Miss Dara Lanscarr. She has agreed to be my wife. Can you believe it?”
“I had feared you were unmarriageable, sir,” Teddy answered without a blink. “However, Elliot asked me to inform you that he has secured the special license.”
Michael smiled at Dara. “See? Not such a surprise.”
She nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed and very tired.
“Teddy, first thing in the morning, you must see the Reverend Lucas and request he marry us. It must be done on the morrow.”
“Yes, sir,” Teddy said. “That should not be a problem. Is there anything else I may do for you?”
“Yes, tell Elliot to cancel the meeting with Gammon.” He explained a bit of what had happened this night.
Teddy looked concerned. “Without Ferrell, the trail is cold, sir?”
The lines of Michael’s mouth flattened. “Possibly.”
That was all he said, and yet Dara sensed that he wasn’t convinced it was over.
Michael continued, “Dara wishes to write a letter to her sister and aunt to let them know she is safe. I will ask you to deliver it this night.”
“Yes, sir.”
Michael crossed to the hearth, took a candle off the mantel, and lit it off the fire. “Here, Dara. You can write to your family in my office.” He led her into a connecting room with a huge, very messy desk.
Teddy followed. “He won’t let me tidy it, ma’am,” he said in explanation.
“That is because I know where everything is,” Michael answered. He moved a stack of papers to a table in the corner of the room and then blew on the blotter before presenting the chair. “Here you are. Everything you need.” To emphasize his claim, he pulled a piece of foolscap out from a drawer and set it in the middle of the blotter.
Dara sat and composed her letter. She promised she would be home in the morning and that all was fine. She could only imagine what Gwendolyn and Tweedie must have been thinking when she took off with Michael after Sir Duncan was murdered.
Teddy and Michael left her in privacy while she wrote.
When she was done, Michael gave the letter to his valet. “Please deliver this to Number 7 Willow Street.” Teddy left.
And she was alone with Michael.
She was also exhausted. She couldn’t stifle a yawn.
He offered his hand to help her from the chair. “Come, the bedroom is this way.”
