Loving a Fearless Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Book(77)

“No, I didn’t,” Mira said quietly.

“Well, I have a cousin; he’s locked up because he is a danger, who tried to kill me by pushing me off a cliff into jagged rocks. I was lucky to be found and recover.

“Nash helped me walk around without shame for something I didn’t do. Now, I hardly notice when strangers look or comment loud enough for me to hear.

“I’m telling you this because I think if you wanted to, you could become less self-conscious about your hands.”

Mira’s head swiveled around to Penelope. “My hands? How did you know there is something wrong with my hands?”

“When you came to tea, your mother vaguely mentioned them. You never take your gloves off, even during times when it isn’t necessary to wear them. And you look down at your gloves most of the time. Am I right?”

Mira nodded slowly but didn’t offer an explanation. Penelope understood. She felt it was no one’s business to know how she came about her problem. Penelope sighed. She may never know.

Penelope gave Mira a small smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve had my scar for six years, and I know about curiosity. I was always dealing with it, but Nash has helped me to handle it more gracefully. I will never ask you about it. However, I’m here for you if you ever want to talk.”

*****





Chapter 31


Mira seemed nervous when she and Penelope went for their daily walk a few days later. Penelope thought Mira had made great strides in overcoming her self-consciousness. She interacted with the servants in a friendly, open way that was reciprocated. She initiated conversations and stayed in the parlour talking with the Balfours long after she had normally retired for the evening.

Penelope thought it only natural. She didn’t think much about her scar in the company of friends and family. She wasn’t self-conscious at all. Mira was becoming comfortable around Penelope’s family. It must be the same for her.

“Mira, is there anything I can do for you? You seem a little out of sorts today,” Penelope said, her hand gently on Mira’s arm.

Mira shook her head and looked down at the ground. “No, it’s nothing, I’m sure.”

Penelope stopped walking. “It doesn’t seem like nothing. You can trust me, Mira. No matter what it is I’ll help you, or I’ll just be here to listen. Whatever you need.

“Let’s sit,” Penelope said, pointing to a tree a short walk away.

Mira adjusted herself on the ground until she was facing Penelope. She took her hands into Penelope’s hands. From the stricken look on Mira’s face, Penelope knew whatever Mira had to say was serious.

“Since I was a little girl until the day my father died, I feared him. He wanted me to be perfect, and when I did something he thought was wrong, he would boil water in a big pot, put on his thick gloves, grab me by the wrists, and hold my hands in the water until he thought I suffered enough.

“I never knew what I did wrong. He wouldn’t tell me. He said I should know without him having to tell me. The irony was, the more punishment I got for being imperfect, the more imperfect I became. My hands are an angry, discoloured mess. I thank God they still work.

“That isn’t really what I wanted you to know. But for you to understand what I need to tell you, you need to understand something first.

“I knew when my father was coming for me. It would pop into my mind and clench tight on my brain so there was no mistaking it. And it was always, always true. Every time, it was true.

“Something has popped into my mind. Something terrible. But I don’t see enough of it to explain it all. There is to be a fire. A house fire. I can’t picture where in the house or the time of day. I should see daylight or darkness, but I cannot.”

Mira squeezed Penelope’s hands. “I wish I had more, but I don’t.” She shrugged.

“Can you see the area of the house to describe it?” Penelope asked.

Mira shook her head, “No, but I haven’t been in every room of the house. It could be anywhere.”

“The whole house or a part of it?”

Mira looked into Penelope’s eyes. “A part of it.”

“Does that part of the house burn to the ground? Are people stuck inside?”

Mira closed her eyes for a moment, probably trying to picture the scene again. Penelope waited silently, trying to keep from breaking her concentration.

“Not to the ground. It’s hectic inside. Many people running around trying to put the fire out. It takes them a while, but they manage to do it. But something is very wrong,” she said quietly. Then she lifted her head. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Wrong? Is the roof going to cave in?”

Mira squeezed her hands again. “There is nothing more, Penelope. I’m sorry.”

“Just one more question, Mira. When does this happen? This week? This month?”

“Soon.”

*****

Penelope entered the house and went straight into Edward’s office. She told him Mira’s vision, and he called Mira into his office to hear it for himself. She spoke with a conviction in her voice he had never heard from her.

The three of them walked every room in the house, looking for a room that looked familiar to Mira. None did. Back in his office, he called in every footman he had to take all but one candle out of every room and to make sure there was a screen in front of every fireplace.