poured tea. It was absurd to sit here chatting by the fireside as if I was a lady. But I wasn’t going to complain. Mrs. O’Sullivan still hadn’t asked about my relationship with her master. She was incredibly discreet, and kind, and reminded me so much of Aunt Helen, that it hurt. How she would have doted on the babe. Then again, if Aunt Helen was still here, I wouldn’t be in this situation.
“Seems that winter is coming early.”
I glanced toward the windows. More rain. The pitter patter of drops against glass did not soothe my soul. It only reminded me that at some point, someday, Isabelle and I would be out there in the elements, exposed. “Yes. The leaves will fall soon.”
“Miss Ginny,” Bess called from the doorway.
Startled, I dropped my teacup. It clattered to the carpet, spilling. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t be silly, child.”
I was quick to startle these days. Every knock, every sudden appearance sent my heart racing. I fully expected to see the constable soon. I closed my eyes briefly as Mrs. O’Sullivan picked up my cup. I was so bloody tired of being afraid.
“Yes, what is it, Bess?”
“He wants to speak with Miss Ginny, ma’am.”
I stiffened, opening my eyes. A week. I’d been here a week and he’d never called me to his office. I hadn’t even seen him since that night I’d arrived, sodden and miserable. Part of me was embarrassed and horrified. Another part of me was only grateful. He’d taken me in when he had no reason to offer shelter.
Mrs. O’Sullivan gave me a kind smile. “Go on then, dear.”
I took one last, lingering look at Isabelle and then headed toward the door. Every step closer to the stairs sent my heart racing faster. I knew he’d eventually want to speak with me. It was his right to demand answers. And I knew exactly what I would say to him. I’d had a speech prepared for a week now. It had to work. It must.
I made it down the steps and paused for a minute to catch my breath. My body had changed so much in the last year. There were parts that were still sore, and a lack of sleep made my head foggy. I felt as if I no longer had control of my own body. I had to think clearly. This was too important.
Steeling my nerves, I headed through the foyer, my slippered feet whispering against the polished floorboards. His home wasn’t the most elaborate I’d seen, but there were signs of his riches. Paintings here and there, golden chandeliers, French wallpaper. He was modest, but wealthy.
Surely a man who had hired Mrs. O’Sullivan couldn’t be all bad. Fact was, my thoughts toward him had changed quite a bit in the last week. How could they not when he’d taken me in, no questions asked? When he’d seen me clothed, fed?
“Come in,” his deep, smooth voice called out even though I hadn’t knocked.
He was no God, I had to remind myself. Just a man. I pushed open the door. It smelled like him. Musty, warm, male with the slightest bit of spice underneath it all. A pleasant smell. Not as erotic as…
No. I wouldn’t think about him. I tore my gaze from the fire burning brightly in the hearth, and traveled to the large desk where he sat. He watched me keenly, as if he didn’t miss a thing. The same way he looked at everyone, really. I wasn’t special. Yet, he’d taken me in. Would he do that for anyone?
I curtsied. “Mr. McKinnon, Sir.”
He was as intimidating as he was handsome. Yes, he was handsome. Certainly, I could admit as much. So why didn’t he make my heart skip a beat? My pulse flutter? Why, even after he had saved me, was he still just a kind man, nothing more?
“Please, sit. I have discretely looked into your Mrs. Bryne. It seems she is alive and well.”
Tears stung my eyes. I sank into the chair across from his desk. “Oh, thank God.”
Every day, every night, I’d been waiting for the constable to arrive, and cart me off for hanging.
He leaned back in his chair, watching me closely. “Miss Smith—”
“I’m well aware, Mr. McKinnon, that I can’t stay here forever,” I interrupted. “Therefore, I would ask for employment in the factory.”
He was silent for a moment. I had a feeling I’d surprised him, although he didn’t show it. Slowly, he stood and turned toward the windows that overlooked his factory.