Chapter 14

"Dinner party?" Logan barely kept his voice even.

"Yes, a dinner party. You have been a naughty boy, Logan. All of England is converging on London, and you have closeted yourself away in the country. As your aunt, I will not allow you to fester in solitude."

Mildred Dunham was the only sister of his late father. When his mother died, he had no women in his life to offer him love, gentle support, or a helpful shove in the right direction. His beloved aunt volunteered to take him under her very capable wing, closed her townhouse in London, and moved into the Manor. When he inherited the title, she packed up and left for her own estate in Buckinghamshire where she spent most of the year breathing down his neck for great nieces and nephews.

"Aunt, now is not a good time for a dinner party."

"Pish, posh. It's never a good time for you to do anything social, Logan. The Hughes' have been your neighbors since before your birth. It would have been rude of me to stop by for a visit, and not invite them to dinner." Though her voice was mollifying, her pinched face and thin lips were anything but. "Besides, Monday is two days away, so you've plenty time to prepare. On second thought, I will do everything. You can sit alone in your study and mope for all I care, but when Monday arrives, as it inevitably will, you'd better be at your most charming. No scowling, grunting, or hiding." She spoke the last word with a resolute gleam in her bright blue eyes. She knew him too well.

His flustered mind on the woman upstairs in bed, he hoped he could explain the situation to his aunt in a way that would convey the need to cancel the dinner party.

"For the past few months, someone has been stealing sheep. Until last night the thief had slipped through my grasp." His aunt's challenging look turned to interest, she sat forward, and set her teacup on the table. Her lemon tart forgotten, she nodded, signaling him to continue.

"As I rode the southern pasture last evening, I spotted someone skulking about. She ran, but I apprehended her, and she has much to answer for. So you see, aunt, it's impossible to host a dinner party here when I am already hosting an investigation."

Her silver hair twinkled in the sunlight as she nodded again. Her cornflower eyes never left his face as she rose from her seat, her hands clasped in front of her.

"Is she here?" she asked in a calm tone.

"Yes, but she is resting. She fainted this morning and hasn't regained consciousness."

"Fainted? What happened to the girl?" Her glare pinned him.

"During her apprehension she hit her head on a rock." His aunt gasped. "This morning, as I attempted to question her, she became agitated and fainted."

"Well, I should say." Her petite body shook, her pale skin flushed pink, and her eyes flashed with wrath. "I am very disappointed in you, nephew. First you bludgeon the girl with a boulder, and then you badger her before she could recover." Concern and curiosity wove themselves into an intricate expression so completely Aunt Mildred he wasn't surprised to see it.

He stood, slid his hands over her arms, and smiled down into her dear face. "I had reason to believe she was a thief. When she ran, I did what any person would have done. Her injury is an unfortunate consequence, one for which I am sorry. In hindsight, questioning her so soon wasn't the best idea, but I wanted answers. My eagerness for justice blinded me to her needs. I apologize."

She swallowed, took a deep breath, and smoothed her fingers over her daffodil yellow morning dress. "I am glad you see the error of your ways, Logan, but the damage has been done. I understand the girl might be a thief, but until you know otherwise, she is a guest in your home. Your next step should be to apologize to the girl."

***

Her nephew's wary expression turned to stone. His entire countenance turned dark, his black eyes hardened into an ebony shield. Mildred couldn't remember a time when he'd been so saturnine. Heavyhearted, her love for him was that of a mother for her child. A spinster, she couldn't have children of her own, but she'd taken Logan into her life, and didn't regret a moment of it. But the boy she'd nurtured had grown into the man before her: his boyhood smiles gone, his laughter infrequent, and his heart hard.

"Aunt, she is not a guest, and as soon as I have a chance to find out what she knows, I will release her, or hand her over to the magistrate. Her guilt or innocence is in question here."

"Take me to her." She made sure her tone forbade argument.

He stiffened but bowed, and opened the parlor door. She followed him to the east wing, to a room five doors from his. For someone so cautious, he'd certainly put the viper close to the eggs.

The footman Logan had posted in the hallway stood as they approached, bowed, and opened the door. She followed Logan into the bright welcoming interior of the Crimson Room.

Mildred walked to the edge of the bed, and gazed down at the unconscious woman. Her long black hair fanned the pillow, her features bold and elegant. "She's beautiful."

A grunt met her ears, and she smiled.

Catching sight of the clean bandage on the woman's head, she said, "You've done well to care for her, despite your eagerness to question her." Softening, she met his eyes and smiled. His expression thawed in response. Yes, her sweet boy was in there somewhere.

She took in every detail, noticing he'd put the woman in the most comfortable room of those available in that wing. He'd seen to her needs: the maid to look after her, fresh bandages, clean water, and sunlight.

"All human beings deserve common courtesy. She needed care. I saw to it." She realized his clipped delivery was meant to end the line of conversation. She'd let him have this one.

"I see." She laid a gentle hand on the woman's cheek. "Has she told you her name or where she's from?"

"Her name is Haven Edwards. She's an American." She wondered if he realized he'd caressed the woman's name with his voice. He'd hardened his gaze, effectively closing his expression.

Bah! The boy retreated. An ache filled her heart.

"An American, how wonderful." She almost laughed at his bewildered expression. "Americans are great fun at dinner parties." The glimmer of surprise in his eyes was replaced with steely resolve. He'd caught on quickly. What a smart boy. She smiled.