The Lady in Disguise

Chapter Thirty-Four (part 2)

"I wasn't eavesdropping," Emilia said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

Mr. Byrne tilted his head, obviously not convinced.

She didn't blame him. She was not very convincing, even if it was true... in a way. "Very well, I was, but not on purpose. You see, I was taking Mopsy for his nightly constitutional, as... as I do, and he's very interested in the rosebushes—"

"Of course he is. He's been working to ruin them for weeks," Mr. Byrne said, his hand still on her arm, though not very tightly. She could certainly pull away. Yet she did not.

"I'm certain Mopsy intended no such thing," she said, unable to resist defending the poor darling. Even now, he was sitting so nicely between them, staring up at Mr. Byrne as if he was holding the answers to all of life's questions — that or a particularly juicy bone. "He was likely looking for his ball."

"The one that's in your pocket?" he asked, glancing down at her gown, which was indeed bulging a bit at the side. Drat it!

"Is that where it is? Mystery solved. We shall go on our—"

"How much did you hear?" he asked, his expression blank.

"I didn't mean to hear it. I simply kept still as I didn't wish to—"

"That doesn't answer my question," he said, unrelenting.

Emilia sighed. "I heard more than you wish me to, I'm certain. I don't particularly know what to make of it all."

He nodded, releasing her arm. "Come along, then." He moved to the stone steps.

She followed, rather confused. "Where? Why?"

"You said you didn't know what to make of it all."

"Well, yes, but you don't need to—"

"I'm sure you heard enough to think ill of me and I'd rather you know the full—"

"But I don't think anything ill, at least not of you," she assured him.

"Then perhaps you should," Mr. Byrne said, turning slightly to her as he stilled before the windowed doors of the drawing room. "I suppose we'll find out," he said before opening one door, nodding to her slightly.

She went in, knowing she should not. Hadn't she resolved to avoid being alone with him? Mopsy had no such qualms, skipping ahead and pulling her in excitedly, as if this was a rare treat. It likely was. Apart from her bedroom and the kitchen, he'd not spent much time in the house itself unless he was being chased. He pulled her toward the settee, then the chairs, then the fire, sniffing at everything.

"You may as well untie him, unless you want to be carted about the room," Byrne said, closing the door and moving to the sideboard.

"Well, I know how you don't like him loose in the—"

"I'm certain he won't get into too much trouble," he said, opening a decanter.

She bent down to untie Mopsy, to his delight, then noticed Mr. Byrne was pouring two glasses. "Oh, none for me, thank you."

"I'm afraid I must insist," he said gently, but firmly. "A wise man once told me that talks like these shouldn't be done without a bit of help."

She wasn't certain how wise that advice was. She was actually quite certain none of this was wise for her. She should not be alone in a room with a man, especially at night, and even more so drinking... whatever it was he had poured, but she accepted the glass he handed her, then took a chair by the fire when he gestured to it.