Page 106 of When We Touch

“I don’t. There’s nothing strange about me at all,” she assured him.

“Yes, you’re different. There’s the most amazing blush flooding to your cheeks now and then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But you are different. From just those few days ago. From the time . . . when Lord James caught us in that cab!”

“It’s the baby, of course. I’ve been worried about her. And you!”

He shook his head, studying her. Then he suddenly grinned. “‘Methinks thou doth protest too much!’” he quoted.

She was saved by a knock at the door. It was Mrs. Whitley. “Yes?”

“The Lady Arianna says that she is still feeling poorly.”

“Really?” Maggie said, as she glanced back at Mireau, who was getting far too close to the truth of her agitation. “I think I shall run up and ask if Arianna doesn’t wish to see a doctor,” she told him.

“By all means,” Mireau told her.

Maggie started out, past Mrs. Whitley.

“My lady! I’m sure it’s nothing that serious!” Mrs. Whitley cried to her.

“I’ll just see.”

Maggie marched up the stairs, aware that Mrs. Whitley was following her, and determined to ignore the woman. She knocked on Arianna’s door. There was no answer.

“She was just there, really,” Mrs. Whitley said.

Maggie frowned, then a feeling of dread rushed through her. What if the girl really was ill? She pushed open the door and entered the room. Arianna was not in it, and her maid, Fiona, was just picking up clothing from the flloor.

“Fiona, where is Arianna?” Maggie asked.

“I . . . believe she just left.”

“But she just answered to me!” Mrs. Whitley protested.

“She must have just . . . run out, then,” Fiona said. Maggie, however, didn’t move. She’d gotten to know Fiona a bit in the days since she’d come to Moorhaven. And Fiona looked scared. Very scared.

“I’m sorry, m’lady, really,” Fiona said.

“But she was ill,” Maggie told her.

“Perhaps she needed fresh air,” Fiona said.

Maggie stood very still, listening to the girl. She realized that, sometimes, especially when she was unnerved, as she was now, she had a really pretty lilting sound of old Eire in her voice. Sometimes, when she was careful with her speech, she did not.

“Strange,” Maggie said.

“What, my lady?” Fiona asked.

“Well, no one came down the steps . . . and I didn’t hear the door open or close.” She walked toward Fiona, who looked very uncomfortable. “Do you know what I think?” Maggie asked her very softly.

Wide-eyed, Fiona shook her head. “What—my lady?”

“I don’t think that Arianna was here at all just now. I think that you have been in this room—and that you answered for her.”

Fiona was not at all good at lying. Her face flooded with color. “No!”