Page 5 of Lover
“That will do. It’s enough you know a bit of Old Irish. I’m sure it was explained to you what your function here would be?”
“Your assistant, sir.”
“Yes. It’s a devil tracking all these manuscripts, and my notes are in piles.” I motioned around to the mess, one I’d only recently made when I’d pulled all the research out again as a setup for this ruse. “I don’t have the time nor the mind for organizing.”
There was another stretch of graceless silence. I could feel her eyes on me. It was rude that I hadn’t turned, hadn’t introduced myself and allowed her to see my face. I worried once I looked upon her, she would disappear like fog in morning sunlight, and I would wake up alone in the dark, a widower still.
“I’m more than capable of assisting you, Professor,” she said, the irritated edge to her words making it clear I’d offended her.
Better than the alternative.
“When will I be needed?” she asked.
Now. Now, Millie, my love. I need you now.
“Professor,” Ms. Dillard coaxed.
“Tomorrow,” I said, accepting my infuriating limitations. “Tomorrow. I’ve so much work to do still. I’ll greet you properly in the morning when my mind is fresh. Ms. Dillard, please show Miss Foxboro to her room.”
I was a damn coward.
“Professor Hughes,” she began, shocking me with her heated tone, a rare but gratifying occurrence I’d sometimespurposefully encouraged. I turned my head a bare fraction, waiting.
“Good night,” she finished with an air of defeat.
“Good night,” I replied, disappointment making the words terse.
They shuffled out, closing the door behind them while I remained motionless where I stood, aware only of the pain in my chest and the crackling of the fire.
CHAPTER 4
I WAS STILL standing at the desk when there was a light, timid knock and Felicity entered with a tray of coffee. It was set for multiple people, her expectation possibly being that Millie would still be here.
“Are you all right?” she asked, setting the tray down and pouring me a cup without my asking. She glanced at me askance, brow furrowed, looking for signs of turmoil on my face. She’d done this since we were children, and it had become my habit to always smile at her, no matter my true feelings. I managed one now, a weary affair, but a smile nonetheless.
“I should ask you that question. You gave me a fright earlier.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassment coloring her pale cheeks a poppy pink as she handed the cup over to me. “I’d forgotten Mrs. Hughes was arriving today and was…startled to see her standing in the hall.”
“I understand. To confess, I couldn’t even look at her.” I took the coffee, sipping even though it was still scalding. “You’ve brought extra cups. Would you like one?”
She grinned at me, some of the easiness of our shared history smoothing over her guarded nature, which had intensified since the troubles began. “You know I prefer tea.”
“Coffee is better.”
“As you always say.”
I remembered then.
“Speaking of tea, I have a favor to ask,” I said, placing my drink down to rummage through the papers for the key to thedesk drawer. Once I was inside, I pulled out the satchel Dr. Hannigan had left behind, which held several white packets of loose tea.
“Dr. Hannigan is worried about Millie losing sleep, being in this house again. He’s made this leafy concoction to help her. Ms. Dillard has more of the same, in case either of you needs it as well.” I handed the bag over to her, and she took it gingerly, raising it up to enjoy the tart floral scent.
“I think this is what Ms. Dillard had me make earlier for her tray,” she said. “What’s in it?”
“Strawberries? Chamomile. Some other nonsense. Magic too, very probably.”
“I’m sure it’ll work.”
