He didn’t reply. The moments ticked by and his silence was answer enough. He set his glass down with a sharp click. “It grows late.”

It was not. Not really. But it was clear he didn’t want to be alone with her anymore. She nodded stiffly. “It has been a long day.”

“Indeed, it has.” He stood and performed a brief bow.

She looked up at him, wondering if she would see him in the morning again, but somehow sensing she would not.

He left her alone in the room.

Danny soon returned and she rose to her feet, knowing he was likely waiting for her to quit the drawing room so that he could make for his bed.

“Good night,” she murmured, passing the footman as he moved to kill the lamps.

Bea was waiting for her in her chamber. Nora did not even protest as the maid assisted her in readying for bed. She was too weary to argue the point.

Settled in her comfortable bed, she endured a restless night, plagued by dreams in which she was shunned by the entire village. At one point Nora was walking down the main thoroughfare and several of the villagers were tossing rocks at her. It was a montage of faces. Even Papa was there, frowning in disapproval as he cast stones at her, pelting her in the face and chest. She whimpered, willing him away. Then Sinclair was there, a stone ready to fly in his hand.

She lurched upright in bed in the murky air, gasping, her hand brushing over her face as though she could still feel the sting of sharp rocks.

She swung her legs around and dropped down on the floor, her toes sinking into the plush rug. She sat at the edge of her bed for several moments, breathing heavily, in and out, in and out, before she stood and strode across the chamber to her window. She pushed aside the damask drapes and peered out at the breaking dawn.

There, etched against the softening gray of the impending morning, was a horse and rider, cantering away, leaving Haverston Hall behind.

He’d roused himself and left before the inhabitants of the house were even stirring. It made sense. He’d wanted to leave yesterday. He didn’t want to have to see her again.

She watched as he grew smaller and smaller, soon just a speck in the distance, and wondered at the strange tightness in her chest. She let the drapes fall back with a whisper, her hand stroking down the fabric.

Nora would see him again. She vowed it.

Chapter 8

It did not take Nora long to formulate a plan. That was what she did, after all. Her life consisted of plans. She created strategies and carried out experiments to meet hopefully satisfactory end results. That was what she did. Every day.