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“No doubt he had someone do it for him. This house is a little dusty, but it seems someone cares for it. Look.” He nodded toward a basket he’d just spotted, laden with food. Someone hadbeen prepared for their arrival—a local perhaps, who had been paid to keep an eye out for them.

“Goodness, Grandpapa really did think of everything.” She lifted the letter and took a long, audible breath. Tears shone in her eyes.

“What is it, lass?”

“I miss him so.”

Lachlan wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I know.”

“He would have liked you, I think.”

“I would have liked him, I suspect. It seems he understood you a great deal.”

She nodded and bit down on her lip. “And he has given me a second chance at life. I wonder if he ever thought I would not do it.”

“I cannot claim to have known you all your life, Min, but even I could see how much courage you had on the first day we met. He knew you could do this, I have no doubt.”

Her throat worked, and she shifted her gaze to the letter. Working open the seal, she unfolded the letter, and her gaze traced the writing. A crease appeared between her brows, then her mouth dropped open. She shook her head slowly. “Grandpapa, you…you trickster!”

“What is it?”

Her gaze lifted to his, and a slight smile curved her lips. “There…there was nothing for me to collect. Well, save from this letter. I am to take it back to Mr. Barton as proof that I have been here. But there was no object or some valuable belonging as I thought there might be. He simply wanted me to endure this arduous journey.”

Lachlan chuckled. He really did regret he had never met this man. He must have been quite the character. “Well, I suppose this journey gave you everything you needed. A chance to prove to yourself you no longer need to be scared.”

Minerva giggled. “It certainly did that. Goodness, my family is not going to believe this. We all thought I would come back with an antique or something.”

“Regardless, you have done it, lass. You have fulfilled your task.”

“Almost.” She fixed him with a look. “I still have to get back to London.”

“Aye, that you do.” The words were hollow.

“I could do with some rest first.” Her eyes sparkled. “I think you could too.”

He should say no. Be the gentleman he purported to be. But he’d be damned if he could resist. If he only had one more night with her, he’d make it a night to remember. Taking her hand, he led her through into the back rooms, finding the bed made up with clean sheets and no sign of dust. Someone had definitely prepared for Minerva’s arrival.

He wished he could say the same—that he had been prepared for her in his life. But he was not. And nor was he prepared for her to leave. Not one wee bit.

Chapter Fourteen

“I’m so glad you’re home.” Minerva’s mother leaned in to embrace her.

Minerva accepted the embrace gratefully. The violet scent of her mother’s perfume wrapped around her. She inhaled the fragrance that was so familiar deeply and smiled to herself.

Her mother pulled back and gripped Minerva’s arms, running her gaze up and down her. She tilted her head. “You look…” She frowned. “You look well.”

Minerva clasped her hands together. She looked different was what her mother meant. Goodness knows, she felt different. She had been back in London for two days and nothing felt the same anymore. The problem was, she could not tell if it was a good or bad thing.

“You must not have worn a hat enough,” Mama scolded gently. She ran a finger over Minerva’s nose. “You have freckles.” Her smile widened. “But it is so nice to see you out of mourning clothes. I thought you were going to wear them quite a while longer.”

“Mary persuaded me it was time to move into colors again.”

Her mother’s gaze narrowed. “And your hair…it is different. Not as…” Mama motioned, as though pulling her hair back very tightly.

Minerva struggled with something to say. After two weeks of trying to style her hair whilst travelling, she had grown used to a more relaxed style. Yes, it did make her look more attractive, but the admiring looks did not bother her so much now. Of course, she was not interested in such looks from any of the men around her.

The heaviness that had weighted her heart since she had returned seemed to grow heavier. The only man she wanted looking at her like that was Lachlan. But as he had said, they hardly knew each other. Admittedly, they had probably spent more time together than many people before they even married. Most women Minerva’s age or younger were lucky if they had a handful of dances with their intended. But that was no reason for her to rush into anything. As she had said, she would write to him and hopefully visit again.