She was a frequent overnight guest at Haverbreaks, but still, it wouldn't do to be wandering the halls of someone else's home in nothing but her nightgown. Miranda tucked her journal under her chin and wedged it against her breastbone to free her hands so that she could tie the sash around her waist. "Thankthsh," Olivia mumbled, and by the time Miranda pulled on a wrapper and reached the corridor, she was asleep. "I'll take this elsewhere," she said, tucking her journal under her arm. Miranda could not understand it, as the fire in the grate did not seem to bother her, but she had seen Olivia toss and turn with her own eyes, and so, when she realized that her mind was still racing and "not long" had been a bit of a lie, she leaned forward and blew out the candle. Olivia could not fall asleep while a candle burned so close. "Will you be up long?" she asked, her voice thick with the beginnings of slumber.
He had no idea what he'd done to her- what he'd done for her- and he probably never would. He was the man who'd made her believe in herself. Even when he'd married, and she'd sat in the pews at his wedding, and watching him meant watching him watch his bride with all the love and devotion that burned in her own heart.
She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years. "How long do you think Turner will remain here in the country?" Miranda asked, trying not to bite her tongue.
Her maid had left her nightclothes atop the covers, and Miranda respectfully turned her head while Olivia changed into them. "I'm exhausted," Olivia declared, sliding off the bed. Her candle was shedding flickers of light on the blotter, and she suddenly felt tired. Miranda looked back down at the writing desk.
0 kommentar(er)
