The door opened, and Nathaniel Reed stood on the threshold.
Anna shot to her feet, the cloak clutched against her chest. “Mr. Reed.”
His gaze flicked between her face and the cloak before he removed his hat. “Miss Turner. Forgive me. I was directed to wait upstairs.”
“Directed by whom?” Now her voice did crack.
The corner of his mouth hinted at a smile. “Mrs. Pembroke.”
“Oh. Of course.” Anna tightened her hold on the cloak. “This is the, um, sewing room.”
He looked around. “So I see.”
“I’m sorry, but it is not a waiting room.”
“No, and I’d wager there’s a great deal more sewing in it than waiting.”
Anna didn’t dare smile, though she wanted to, which annoyed her. “Captain Whitby is downstairs.”
“I know.”
“Then perhaps you should wait downstairs.” She nodded toward the floor.
“I attempted that. Mrs. Pembroke, however, informed me that Captain Whitby and his guest were speaking privately, and that if I loitered in her hall like a misplaced coat stand, she would put a vase over my head.”
Anna blinked a few times. Mr. Reed looked serious. A laugh nearly escaped, and she swallowed, which only made her throat ache. “That does sound like Mrs. Pembroke.”
He nodded. “Trust me, it was delivered with conviction.”
Anna glanced past him into the hall. No one else was there, but that didn’t help her. In this house, empty halls were often listening halls.
Mr. Reed seemed to understand. He stepped back from the doorway instead of entering. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Then you should not have opened the door.”
“I did knock.”
“And then opened the door.”
“After you called out to me to do so,” he pointed out.
“Oh. Yes.” Her hand gripped the edge of the cloak, the locket pressed hard beneath the fabric. “Did you need something, Mr. Reed?” she asked.
“Only a place to stand… where Mrs. Pembroke won’t decorate me.”
She snorted, unable to help it. “That is a serious concern.” A hand flew to her mouth.
“Grave indeed.” His expression softened. “You look uneasy.”
She dropped her hand. “Do I?”
“Yes.”
“You must be mistaken.” She laughed a little, then shook her head. “Dash it all.” She shouldn’t be so amused. She got herself under control. “As you can see, you must be mistaken.”
He shrugged. “I often am. Though not usually when it comes to fear.”
Anna looked at the cloak and pretended to inspect the stitches. “There is hardly anything to fear in a sewing room, sir.”
