These same men usually treated her with respect, but this show of deference was reserved only for the earl, countess and heir to Wolvesley.
But of course, they now thought her Tristan’s intended bride.
By the time she reached the sanctuary of her own bedchamber, Mirrie’s cheeks were burning with embarrassment.
How foolish she would appear when everyone learned she no longer held such status.
Why did I not think of this before?
She knew the answer to that well enough. She had been caught up in Tristan’s web of charisma and unerring self-belief.And she had wanted this chance to stand by his side, even within the circle of his embrace. Even though she knew it all for a ruse.
What an idiot I have been.
Mirrie pulled the pins out of her hair with force, taking perverse pleasure in the twinges of pain as strands of her own hair came away with them. What she wanted now, more than anything else, was to return to Ember Hall. Where life was simple and honest. Where people said what they meant and meant what they said.
And where she could stride from the house and walk over the rolling hills without causing a stir.
Here at Wolvesley Castle she dared not even appear out of her chamber in the incorrect attire.
Tears brimmed at the corner of her eyes and she dashed them away. Mirrie had never been one for self-pity. She was far more apt to push concerns about herself aside and focus on some task before her. She had learned many summers since that hard work and exercise could banish most demons. But neither of these outlets were available at this moment. The boiling tension inside her belly had nowhere else to go. She thought she might scream as she paced over the thick rugs on her chamber floor, clenching and unclenching her fingers.
When a knock sounded on the dark-wood door, she imagined it must be Molly.
Mirrie had no patience for the idea of a maid fussing around her. But there was little chance she could wriggle out of this tightly-laced kirtle without assistance. Not without tearing the expensive fabric. Swallowing her complaints, she pulled back the panel.
The last person she wanted to see was Tristan.
He stood with one arm hooked over the doorframe. His shoulders were so broad that he blocked almost all the lightfrom the torch-lit corridor, making it hard for her to read his expression, but she could see that his heavy brows were lowered.
“What is it?” she asked, without preamble.
“May we talk?” His usual charming smile was absent, and he looked painfully earnest.
Mirrie knew a moment of weakness before giving her head a firm shake. “We can talk in the morn. ’Tis not proper for you to come to my bedchamber.”
Tristan folded his arms, his movements allowing a beam of light to illuminate his cleanly-shaven face.
“What have I done to anger you?”
Mirrie knew such a swell of frustration that she wanted to slam the door in his face. But this man had been her friend since childhood. She could not bring herself to treat him so harshly. She contented herself with another shake of her head.
“Please, Mirrie,” he pressed. “I can’t bear it when you’re cross with me.”
“Urgh.” She brought her hands up before her, clenching them together to prevent herself from swatting at him. “This is inappropriate, Tristan. What if you are seen at my door at this hour? Do you not realise how this will appear?”
She looked nervously past him, up and down the plastered corridor, but there was no one in sight.
Tristan, however, seemed to consider her words. “Forgive me.” He bowed low, forcing her to step backwards into her chamber. And that was when he darted forward, closing the door behind him.
She was so surprised she could do no more than glare at him, wide-eyed.
“What are you about, Tristan? This is madness.”
Her chamber was lit by several flickering candles, positioned on chests and in wall sconces. Tristan stood in a pool of goldenlight. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and leaned back against the smooth wall.
He is still half drunk, she realised.
“You have been angry with me all day,” he said, “and I do not see why. All I have done is find a cure for my father and rejoice in his recovery.”
