The Lass Wore Black Read Free Page B

day, at least. She will not even allow the maids into her room. We have to leave her tray outside the door. If she’s hungry, she’ll eat. If not, she won’t.”
    “She hasn’t been eating?”
    Dina shook her head. “Another worry,” she said, and then told him the truth, the reason she’d asked him to call. “I’m afraid she’s willing herself to die.”
    This time his expression of concern was the mirror of hers.

 
    Chapter 3

    M ark knocked firmly on the door, but received no response.
    He glanced at Mrs. MacTavish. The woman made no effort to conceal her worry. She bit at the knuckles of one hand, the other supporting her elbow. The foot that had tapped so impatiently in the sitting room was now beating a rhythm on the green runner before the door.
    “Are you certain she’s inside?”
    The woman nodded.
    He knocked a third time and heard movement on the other side of the door. Was Catriona standing there, listening to their discussion?
    “I wish to see you, Miss Cameron,” he said.
    His voice carried well enough, but he might as well have been whispering, for all the response he received.
    If Catriona meant to annoy him, she was succeeding. He was expected at his parents’ home in a quarter hour. Even if he didn’t attend his grandfather’s birthday ball, he could always find something to do that was a damn sight better than standing here waiting for a spoiled miss to answer the door.
    “Miss Cameron,” he said, “I must insist. I’m not leaving.”
    “Go away.” The voice sounded husky, as if she didn’t often speak. He pressed his fingers against the wood of the door and turned to Mrs. MacTavish.
    “Does she admit any of the servants?” he asked.
    She shook her head.
    “Even to clean her room?”
    “Only for her earth closet and chamber pot,” she said, looking away. “She cleans her room by herself.”
    “What does she do during the day?”
    Surprisingly, she sent him an irritated look. “My dear Dr. Thorburn, I don’t know. She won’t even admit me. The moment we returned to Edinburgh, she decided that she was going to be a hermit, and a hermit she has been.”
    “She can’t be allowed to continue such behavior,” he said. A comment that earned him another annoyed look.
    He removed his coat, handing it to her without a word. She looked startled, but not as much as when he removed his vest, cravat, bib, and collar. She stood there blinking down at her armful of his clothing, then back up at him.
    “Do I look the part of footman?” he asked.
    She shook her head slowly from side to side.
    Ignoring her, he moved to the sideboard, peered beneath the napkin, then put it back into place. Hefting it in one hand, he knocked on the door with the other.
    “Miss Cameron,” he said. “You need to eat.”
    “Go away.” This time the already resolute voice was stronger.
    He sent Mrs. MacTavish a look of apology, drew back his right leg and slammed his foot into the door beneath the latch.
    The door swung open, bouncing against the wall. He’d have to send a workman over tomorrow to repair the door frame. But for now, still hoisting the tray in his left hand, he entered the room.
    When Mrs. MacTavish would have followed him, he shook his head slightly, stepping into the darkness alone.
    Immediately overwhelmed, he took a step back toward the open door. As he did whenever he was reminded of his intolerance for small spaces, he made himself stop, look over his surroundings, and take a deep breath. The room wasn’t that small. The darkness merely made it feel suffocating. Another deep breath, another step away from the doorway, and he’d mastered the sensation.
    The room smelled of potpourri, something like apples and cinnamon, but it was much too cold in there, as if she’d recently closed the window.
    Was she trying to freeze herself to death as well?
    “Get out.”
    He turned his head toward the voice. In the corner of the sitting room sat a shadow, darker than the gloom. As his eyes