“You know it wasn’t my fault.”

He pursed his lips but then gestured toward his coach. “Fine. You may see her.”

Moira’s heart thudded hard. “She—she’s here?”

He nodded to his coachman, who rapped upon the door panel. It opened and a sharp-faced woman climbed from the carriage, pausing to say sharply to someone inside, “I said put that down and come!”

Moira’s world spun slowly, the beat of her heart so loud it drowned out all thoughts. A small foot appeared in the doorway, followed by a tousle-headed child of five years of age. The girl had long dark hair and blue eyes surrounded by thick lashes. She had a cherubic face, round with rosy lips and a snub nose.

The child’s expression darkened on seeing Aniston. But when her gaze flickered past him to Moira, it was as if the sun had broken through the clouds.

“Mama!” The small child jerked her hand free from the nurse’s as she ran forward.

“Och!” the nurse exclaimed, stomping forward. “You little brat, come back here!”

But Moira was faster. With a sob, she reached Rowena and scooped her little body up, enveloping the child in her arms.

Aniston lifted an indifferent hand to the nurse. “Let them have their moment. After all, they get so few.”

Moira buried her face in the girl’s neck as the child burst into tears and wailed, “I-I w-want t-to g-go h-home!”

“So do I, sweetheart.” Moira held her daughter close, rubbing her cheek against the child’s silky hair and kissing every inch of the dear, dear face.

She would have given her life to take Rowena home with her right now, and for a wild moment, she thought about picking up the child and running into the mist. But she’d tried that once, and she—and Rowena—had paid horribly.

Moira caught Aniston’s cold gaze over Rowena’s head and realized that the coachman was standing to one side, pistol already drawn.

Swallowing hard, Moira set the child back on the ground and stooped before her. The little face was tear streaked, the eyes red-rimmed as she hiccupped, “M-Mama, p-please t-take m-me with y-you.”

Moira’s heart ached even more. But she couldn’t afford weakness right now. These few moments may be all she has to support her until I can come for her. Moira brushed Rowena’s hair from her forehead and said in a calm voice, “Not this time, sweetheart, but soon. Very soon.”

“B-b-but I d-d-on’t want to go b-b-back! Miss Kimble hitted me and—”

Moira pulled the child closer, looking over her head at the nurse. “You hit her?”

The nurse looked uneasy and glanced at Aniston. He shrugged and dusted imaginary lint from his sleeve.

Seeing him so unmoved, the nurse sniffed and said in a cocky voice, “I dinna hit the lass when she’s quiet, but some days she’s whiny and willna listen weel, so I pop her upon the head and—”

Moira straightened.

The nurse squeaked and took two hurried steps behind Aniston.