innocent and being pulled into something that truly might ruin her. Permanently.
Of course she’d found nothing of interest in the mess that was Lord Glenwick’s study. She did look around a bit, but things had not only been disorganized, she had the impression someone had truly ransacked it. Of course Mr. Perkins had been looking for things, but he was certainly not the type to toss things haphazardly into corners and dump out drawers. Surely the old earl would never have left it that way. So who had?
Her whole experience at Glenwick Downs had been odd, to say the least. Perhaps it was just her conscience that pricked, but she had the distinct feeling the whole time she was there someone had been watching her. And the way Mr. Perkins had talked, she expected to find much more information available to her when she arrived. Instead, it was only those few undamning draft copies and that one letter signed only by “X”. None of that could really cause her much worry. Her name was on none of it.
Of course she appreciated Mr. Perkin’s overblown concern for her, but it had been unnecessary. When he returned from his errand she thanked him, but made her excuse and hurried out to Papa’s gig. It wasn’t until she was halfway down the lane that she recalled none of those papers had actually been destroyed while she was there. Hadn’t that been a main purpose of her visit? Hopefully Mr. Perkins would tend to that for her before the new earl arrived tomorrow.
It was a relief to know that her name was not actually in those papers, but it would be embarrassing to think Nigel might see them. Not traumatic, though, she was happy to realize as she searched her own heart. There was nothing there that might indicate she had done anything to cause the old earl to fall into his erroneous assumption. And if Nigel did decide to hold her accountable, there was nothing she could do about that.
It was remarkably freeing to realize she truly did not care one way or the other what Nigel Webberly thought about her. She honestly felt no remaining attraction for him whatsoever. How amazing to realize that!
It would be good to have Nigel returned just because they were old friends, but for no other reason than that. Perhaps, as Mr. Perkins suggested, Nigel would ask for his grandfather’s parrot back and Meg's house could become peaceful again. And with Bartholomew gone, Mr. Shirley would be gone, too. She would be perfectly happy to watch him leave.
He'd walk away, taking those blue eyes, dazzling smile and broad, manly shoulders with him. He'd walk right out of their house and out of their lives and she could practically picture it already: his long legs and self-assured gait... the way he might turn his head back to catch one final look at her... the burning regret she might see in those deep azure eyes... the adorable creases at the corners of his lips when she began running after him...
Oh, good heavens! Any more of this and she was going to require medical intervention. What was wrong with her? She would not run after the parrot trainer. Ever.
Determined to think no more of Mr. Shirley than was absolutely necessary—and more and more it was becoming painfully necessary—she slapped the reins on the old horse. The sun was just a tiny red glow on the horizon, shadows stretched long over the road. She had just enough time to stop at Miss Bent’s house to say a quick hello then go back to the posting house to retrieve the broad shoulders. Er, Mr. Shirley.
Max had managed to keep track of her carriage from the moment it left Glenwick Downs. The sun was very nearly gone so he had ample shadows to hide in, creeping out the same secret way he’d crept into the manor, then staying low, unseen behind the lush plantings and rolling landscape until he could follow the road, hidden in the brush of the creek bed.
Poor Miss Farrow had no clue that his damn cousin was already returned, or that the vile man had some rather unsavory
Of course she’d found nothing of interest in the mess that was Lord Glenwick’s study. She did look around a bit, but things had not only been disorganized, she had the impression someone had truly ransacked it. Of course Mr. Perkins had been looking for things, but he was certainly not the type to toss things haphazardly into corners and dump out drawers. Surely the old earl would never have left it that way. So who had?
Her whole experience at Glenwick Downs had been odd, to say the least. Perhaps it was just her conscience that pricked, but she had the distinct feeling the whole time she was there someone had been watching her. And the way Mr. Perkins had talked, she expected to find much more information available to her when she arrived. Instead, it was only those few undamning draft copies and that one letter signed only by “X”. None of that could really cause her much worry. Her name was on none of it.
Of course she appreciated Mr. Perkin’s overblown concern for her, but it had been unnecessary. When he returned from his errand she thanked him, but made her excuse and hurried out to Papa’s gig. It wasn’t until she was halfway down the lane that she recalled none of those papers had actually been destroyed while she was there. Hadn’t that been a main purpose of her visit? Hopefully Mr. Perkins would tend to that for her before the new earl arrived tomorrow.
It was a relief to know that her name was not actually in those papers, but it would be embarrassing to think Nigel might see them. Not traumatic, though, she was happy to realize as she searched her own heart. There was nothing there that might indicate she had done anything to cause the old earl to fall into his erroneous assumption. And if Nigel did decide to hold her accountable, there was nothing she could do about that.
It was remarkably freeing to realize she truly did not care one way or the other what Nigel Webberly thought about her. She honestly felt no remaining attraction for him whatsoever. How amazing to realize that!
It would be good to have Nigel returned just because they were old friends, but for no other reason than that. Perhaps, as Mr. Perkins suggested, Nigel would ask for his grandfather’s parrot back and Meg's house could become peaceful again. And with Bartholomew gone, Mr. Shirley would be gone, too. She would be perfectly happy to watch him leave.
He'd walk away, taking those blue eyes, dazzling smile and broad, manly shoulders with him. He'd walk right out of their house and out of their lives and she could practically picture it already: his long legs and self-assured gait... the way he might turn his head back to catch one final look at her... the burning regret she might see in those deep azure eyes... the adorable creases at the corners of his lips when she began running after him...
Oh, good heavens! Any more of this and she was going to require medical intervention. What was wrong with her? She would not run after the parrot trainer. Ever.
Determined to think no more of Mr. Shirley than was absolutely necessary—and more and more it was becoming painfully necessary—she slapped the reins on the old horse. The sun was just a tiny red glow on the horizon, shadows stretched long over the road. She had just enough time to stop at Miss Bent’s house to say a quick hello then go back to the posting house to retrieve the broad shoulders. Er, Mr. Shirley.
Max had managed to keep track of her carriage from the moment it left Glenwick Downs. The sun was very nearly gone so he had ample shadows to hide in, creeping out the same secret way he’d crept into the manor, then staying low, unseen behind the lush plantings and rolling landscape until he could follow the road, hidden in the brush of the creek bed.
Poor Miss Farrow had no clue that his damn cousin was already returned, or that the vile man had some rather unsavory
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