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“I…” she was uncertain for the first time in their sight. “I do not wish to be seen by anyone.”
“It is still quite early,” said Nigel. “And this is such a desolate village. How many live here?”
“But a fire might draw people.”
Charles took a step closer to her and she sprang back.
That, paired with her unexplained presence in his father’s house, made him fear the worst.
People do not hide themselves away,he thought,without reason.In particular, a woman probably would not do it unless she had no other choice.
He held up his hands in surrender and kept his eyes fixed on hers. “Whatever has happened to you, perhaps we can help.”
In the guttering light thrown by a woefully short candle stub, he watched her hesitate. “I do not know if you can.”
“Neither will we, unless we learn more.”
“I fear it may not sway you to my cause.”
Hands still up, Charles tried again to take a step in her direction. Behind her was a wall with some wooden shelves for kitchen wares. This time, she did not startle.
“Give us the chance to decide for ourselves,” he said.
He trusted her with an abrupt certainty. More than that, he had encountered all manner of people who, for one reason or another, felt cornered. Some of them did not merit empathy and were mired in circumstances brought about by their own arrogance or malice. He thought of his old employer.
But there were some who merely needed to be met with kindness. He thought of his present employer and his lady wife.
“Why should I trust you?”
He huffed a gentle laugh. “You have no reason to trust either of us at all. But I think you’d like a full stomach and a chance to bathe.”
The latter thought was inappropriately intriguing. He pushed aside the thought of her nude in bathwater.
Her resolve ebbed.
“It has to be a better prospect than sitting here in the dark by yourself,” said Nigel, from closer to the door. He had often followed Charles’ lead in most things, wishing to emulate his big brother. Charles was thankful that he did so now. Miss Doyle had nowhere to go, but he did not want her to bolt. “We can go to the inn and perhaps Mr. Lester can oblige us. That’s much better than a fire out of doors in this weather. Then we may become better acquainted over a meal.”
Charles nodded. He still looked at Miss Doyle. There was no flicker of recognition in her face at the mention of Mr. Lester. The way she spoke made her sound as though she was from nearby. If she was hiding, that quality might hinder her efforts. He was pleased that the name did not seem to faze her. “What do you think, Miss Doyle?”
She did not answer him for a moment.
Then, she said, “Very well, Mr. Mason.”
