They spent the night at the small seaport of Wexford, and then set out for the town of Kilkenny early the next morning, where Hawkhurst had arranged to rendezvous with Macky. When they arrived at the designated inn, a message awaited them from Macky about his lack of progress, saying that he had ridden to the smaller town of Castlecomer and should return by the next afternoon.
They were met with additional news that did not sit well with Hawkhurst. Due to the traveling fair in town, the inn was nearly full, so they were able to book only a single bedchamber and no private parlors.
To Skye’s disappointment, Hawkhurst said he would spend the night with his male servants. Perhaps to avoid being cooped up with her for the remainder of the day, however, he offered to show her the sights while they waited for his colleague, much to her surprise and delight.
In medieval times, he told her, Kilkenny had once rivaled Dublin in historical importance but had not grown apace. Even so, it boasted both a cathedral and a castle of gray stone overlooking the River Nore, as well as shops and a market. Upon attending the fair, Hawkhurst bought her an ice and took her to watch the jugglers and acrobats and a troupe of actors performing parts of the Shakespearean comedy A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
The engaging entertainments made Skye feel as if she were celebrating a holiday rather than pursuing a somber investigation. Hawkhurst himself seemed to relax a small measure and even cracked a smile once or twice when she teased him about his solemnity.
At the conclusion of the long day, she was pleasantly weary but returned to the inn with reluctance. She hadn’t wanted the enchantment to end.
“Thank you for a lovely day, my lord,” she told him earnestly as they entered the Green Goose. “I can’t remember when I have enjoyed myself more.”
Perhaps Hawkhurst might have answered had the innkeeper not greeted him just then. “My lord, a message arrived for you barely moments ago.”
Hawkhurst took the proffered letter but waited until they had climbed the stairs to her room before breaking the seal and scanning the contents.
“Is it from Macky?” Skye asked.
“Yes. He discovered a possible lead to Rachel Farnwell’s whereabouts.”
Excitement filled Skye. “What does he say?”
“A shopkeeper in Castlecomer recognized the subject in the miniature portrait. It resembles a woman by the name of Meg Donnelly, who lives in a small village close to Castlecomer.”
“That is famous!”
“Don’t raise your hopes too high,” Hawkhurst warned. “It might not be Lady Farnwell.”
“But it might be. So what is our next step? Should we travel there tonight?”
“Such haste isn’t necessary. Macky wishes to investigate further and try to confirm her identity. If so, he won’t approach her alone. You and I will leave in the morning in time to meet with him at noon. It is less than two hours’ drive.”
Skye found it difficult to contain her anticipation, but she realized that no purpose would be served by racing to reach Castlecomer that evening.
They could have dined in the public room of the inn, but Hawkhurst ordered supper to be brought upstairs to her room. Even though she’d given up her face veil once they’d disembarked in Ireland, they wanted to avoid her needless exposure.
Over their meal, Skye became conscious that this might be her last opportunity to be alone with him for a while, since they would be joining his colleague the next morning. She dallied as long as possible over the game of piquet that followed, knowing that Hawkhurst intended to spend the night elsewhere.
When it was time to retire, she stopped him before he rose from the table. “You needn’t leave, my lord. There is no reason to inconvenience yourself by sleeping with your servants when a perfectly good bed is right here.”
He glanced dismissively at her. “There is only one bed.”
“We have spent two nights together already. What harm will there be in doing so once more? Please, won’t you consider staying here with me tonight? I have not slept well on this entire journey, being alone in str
ange inns.”
That was completely true. She’d had another nightmare last night, although not a severe one. But she also wanted him to sleep with her so she could comfort him. There were still shadows lingering in his eyes—shadows she longed to banish.
“It would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” Skye added lightly. “You are supposed to be a hero. You should act like one and console me.”
Faint amusement curved his lips, even as he studied her skeptically. “This is another of your connivances, isn’t it?”
There was no avoiding the perceptive depths of his eyes, so she didn’t even try. “I may be conniving,” she readily admitted, “but I usually have good reason. In this case, I can sleep much more peacefully with you. Nothing needs happen between us. We can remain perfectly chaste.”
Hawkhurst hesitated a long moment. When she was about to give up hope, he shook his head in self-deprecation, as if hardly believing he would agree to her proposition. “Very well. I’ll stay.”
Feeling a great surge of relief, Skye smiled. Rising, she moved around the table. “Here, let me help you off with your coat.”