had paid Madam Birchmore, she led them into another hallway and up a narrow flight of wooden stairs to the first floor.
At the end of the dimly lit hallway—heavy velvet curtains concealed the windows—Madam Birchmore stopped, and knocked on the last door. “Mistress Mia,” she called through the oak panels. “You have company. Two handsome-as-sin gentlemen, in fact.”
“Coming.” A light, feminine voice Hamish immediately recognized floated out into the hall. And then the door opened to reveal Euphemia Harrington.
At the sight of him, her blue eyes widened and she blanched. “Oh . . .” She pulled her loosely cinched silk robe about her near-naked body. “Oh . . . I don’t think . . .”
Quick as a flash, she attempted to close the door with a shove, but Madam Birchmore jammed her foot in the narrow opening. She was surprisingly strong for such a tiny woman. “Mia, you’ll do as you’re told, girl, or you’ll be out on the streets.”
The madam glanced back to give Hamish a tight, apologetic smile as she continued to wrestle with Mia for control of the door. “She’s relatively new here. But she’s not usually this skittish.” Turning back to Euphemia, she hissed, “What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Open the door at once.”
“Mia, I’m only here to talk,” called Hamish. “About Tilda.”
All at once Euphemia gave up the battle. Letting go of the handle, she shrank back into the shadows of the bedchamber.
Madam Birchmore gave a huff of annoyance. “The next time you do that, it’ll be the butcher’s brush for you, my girl.”
“It’s all right,” said Hamish. “Mistress Mia and I have met before, and I think the shock of seeing me again, so unexpectedly, rattled her a little.”
The madam planted her small hands on her hips and glared fiercely at Hamish. “Here, you’re not one of those gentlemen who likes to beat women, are you? We do have some rules in place here, you know.”
“No. No he’s not,” said Euphemia. “In fact, he’s just the opposite, Madam Birchmore. And what he says is quite true. I was simply a little shocked to see him after so much time.”
“Hmph.” The madam snorted her skepticism. She lifted a small silver pocket watch hanging from a chain pinned to her bodice. “Between the pair of you, you’ve just wasted five minutes of the allotted hour. I’ll charge extra if you go over time.”
“I assure you, we won’t,” said Hamish.
“See that you don’t.” Clearly satisfied everything was in order, Madam Birchmore tripped off down the carpeted hall.
“Won’t you come in, my lord?” murmured Mia Harrington. She pushed a glossy brown curl behind her ear as her gaze darted nervously to Max. “And your friend.”
“Thank you.”
The bedchamber was small but well-appointed, from what Hamish could see; it was barely illuminated by a branch of candles sitting upon the mantelpiece and a single candle atop a small dressing table. Although it was early afternoon, the velvet curtains were drawn; Hamish surmised it was to promote a dark, illicit atmosphere. The heavy scent of musk, sandalwood, and something vaguely floral hung in the air.
Mia crossed to the large tester bed and sat upon the edge of the crimson damask counterpane. Her blue silk robe slid open to reveal long, pale, slender legs clad in silk stockings and ribbon garters.
“So you found me,” she said on a shaky sigh. Her eyes glimmered with tears. “I don’t quite know how you did, but I suppose that doesn’t really matter now.” She gestured at a heavy oak chair with a padded seat by the window. “I’m sorry there’s only one place to sit.”
“That’s quite all right. I don’t expect we’ll be staying long,” said Hamish.
“Don’t mind me,” added Max as he prowled to the other side of the room and propped a lean hip on the dressing table. “Pretend I’m not here.”
Hamish took up a position by the door. He didn’t want to draw too close to the bed; the last thing he wanted to do was intimidate his former mistress. “Let me just begin by saying that even though Tilda is missing you, she’s well,” he said gently.
Mia pressed her lips together and nodded. “I knew you would take good care of her,” she whispered.
“I know she’s not mine.”
“No. She’s not . . .” Mia dropped her gaze. Her fingers twisted in her robe, and her tears began to fall. “I know you’ll have questions. And . . . and I know you’ll want me to take her back