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Unfortunately, he was not immune to the lure of a pretty girl—far from it, in fact, given his monklike state. He could only hope that her chaperone for the trip was the most dour and suspicious of nuns.
He pulled himself together. “Sister Margaret, I’d imagine the poor girl is distressed to be saying good-bye to you and the others. It’s no wonder she’s fashed.”
When Donella opened her eyes, her frustrated expression suggested she’d like to cosh him over the head.
Sister Margaret obviously read the same message and laid a gentle hand on Donella’s arm. “I’m sure you’re upset, my child. But Mother gave you excellent advice that will help you to face this particular challenge with a lighter heart. Is that not so?”
The girl visibly collected herself before giving the elderly nun a sweet smile. “Yes. Thank you for the reminder, Sister.”
“You must do more than remember, my child,” Sister chided. “You must act on it, too.”
Donella’s expression changed again, and for a long moment she looked like a sad, lost little girl. Logan had to resist the insane urge to pull her into his arms for a comforting cuddle.
“I will do my best to take Mother’s advice to heart,” she said.
Sister Margaret nodded her approval. “We all have our crosses to bear, my dear. Try to bear yours with a glad heart, and never forget that our heavenly Father will provide.”
Lord Riddick certainly would, anyway. Logan hoped the old fellow would do it without piling on the lectures. That would be adding insult to injury at this point.
“Can’t blame her for being a wee bit snippy, Sister,” he said. “I’d probably feel the same if I found myself tossed out on my—”
Logan caught himself just in time. While the nun regarded him with mild horror, Donella’s gaze was cold enough to send his balls into full retreat.
“There’s no need to linger, Mr. Kendrick,” Sister Margaret said. “We sent Miss Haddon’s trunk down to the inn this morning so it will already be in the carriage.” She glanced up at the sky. “Dusk will come soon enough.”
“I do believe I made that point an hour ago,” Logan replied with polite sarcasm.
When the ladies stared at him again, he mentally winced. Taking potshots at nuns was hardly sporting, even if one of them was now an ex-nun. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Not that I minded waiting,” he added.
Donella turned her back on him, bending gracefully to hug the old woman. “I’ll miss you, Sister. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
Sister Margaret sketched a blessing over her. “Write and tell us how you get on, my dear. And God bless you.”
With a stern nod to Logan, the nun disappeared into the guesthouse.
“Is the carriage waiting outside the gates,” Donella asked, “or down at the inn?”
“It should be here soon. And we’re still waiting for your chaperone, are we not?”
Donella looked blank. “I don’t have a chaperone.”
Oh, hell. “Isn’t one of the sisters coming as an escort?”
“That seems rather redundant. I’ve got you to escort me and, presumably, my uncle’s coachman and grooms.”
“We’ll be on the road for two days. You need a chaperone.” He waved a hand. “You know, to prevent gossip.”
She rolled her eyes. “No one is going to gossip about me, sir. Aside from my immediate family and the servants, no one even knows I’m leaving the convent.”
Logan’s irritation broke free. “I bloody well know, and I have no intention of spending two days on the road with a gently bred spinster.”
Donella regarded him with patent disbelief. “Your virtue is quite safe with me, sir. I just spent the last three years in a convent. Until last week, I wasactuallya nun.”
She turned on her heel and marched out the convent gates. Logan yanked off his hat, rubbed the back of his head where a headache was gathering, then jammed it back on and started after her.
“I don’t care if yer the Blessed Mother herself,” he said when he’d caught up with her. “Ye canna travel without a proper chaperone.”
