As the evening loomed ahead, once again, she cursed the fact that she was stuck in this huge, disused house with a man who seemed to loathe her when he wasn't kissing her. A man who yelled at her for daring to want to know anything about him.
She felt suddenly desperate to go home to where everything was familiar, albeit annoying. But she couldn't.
"I'm sorry."
Mariah jumped at the sound of his voice and she eyed him warily.
His face registered shock at her actions then he sighed and stepped forward.
"Please, don't be scared. I just—"
"If you'll forgive me, please," Mariah interrupted him, hearing the wobble in her voice but unable to stop it, "I find I am no longer hungry."
"Mariah, don't run away. Please just—"
"My name is Miss Bolton," she said injecting her voice with some much-needed steel. "Goodnight, Mr. Haverton."
Mariah turned and ran as fast as she could all the way back to her room.
God, how she wished she could go home.
For the first time in her life, Mariah longed for her mother's company. Which just went to show, she thought miserably, how bad it was for her in Mr Haverton's house.
The next morning, Mariah opened her eyes, taking a moment to recognise the unfamiliar guest room she slept in. A pale light shone through the curtains and her heart leapt with hope. She stepped eagerly towards the window, barely feeling the cold floor on her bare feet. If it was bright, surely that meant—
But, no. The storm was as bad as ever.
The snow lashed against the window pane and made the surrounding countryside completely unrecognizable; not even the palest sunshine greeted her.
With a sigh, Mariah turned away.
Someone had been in to light the fire while she slept and she moved toward it to warm herself, suddenly aware of the cold that seeped through her light night rail.
Her head pounded, no doubt from the tears she had shed and the fitful sleep she had gotten.
But today was a new day. And a new attitude was in order.
Perhaps she had engaged in foolish fantasies and romantic notions about Mr. Haverton but that was at an end now.
Yes, he was handsome. Yes, his kiss drove her wild. Not to mention his smile.
But he was a rude, arrogant, boorish bully who was probably, in all honesty, also a little insane.
She didn't think he would hurt her. Not physically anyway. But her emotions just weren't up to withstanding his ire.
So, what she would do, she decided with a false bravado, was ignore him as much as humanly possible, get the library finished then get the hell out of there.
Staring into the dancing orange flames of the roaring fire, Mariah let her imagination wander as it was wont to do. She gave it free reign now; envisioning bumping into him and his mysterious woman in the village square and being marvellously nonchalant about it; seeing him at a dance in the assembly rooms and laugh at his pining after her while she danced with all the dashing young gentlemen who begged her.
She'd never been begged for dance in her life, and the gentlemen of her acquaintance fell abysmally short of dashing but that was neither here nor there.
Feeling a little better, she managed an almost genuine smile when Dora came with a cup of chocolate and to help her dress, taking Mariah's borrowed night rail to wash out and ready for that evening.
Mercifully, she had brought Mariah's own simple muslin gown, freshly washed and pressed. Mariah didn't think she had the fortitude to wear another of the mystery lady's garments.
"Are you hungry?" asked Dora.
"Famished."
"Good," Dora said with a smile, buttoning the back of Mariah's dress. "Mr. Haverton said we were to make sure there was plenty for you to eat this morning, since you didn't eat last night."
Mariah's heart skittered at the mention of last night as well as at the fact that he had been so considerate of her.
"And will Mr. Haverton be at breakfast?"
Mariah sat at the vanity while Dora started to brush out and pin her hair.
"No. He said to extend his apologies but he had a tonne of work and would be locked in his study for the day."
Mariah didn't realise she'd been holding her breath until it left her in a whoosh of relief. She didn't know if he was avoiding her or giving her the chance to avoid him, but either way, she was vastly grateful.
Still angry. But grateful.
The dining room seemed larger than before with nobody in it but Mariah and the footmen who were attending her, but that did not put her off her breakfast. She enjoyed a meal so large that her mother would have rung a peal over her head for having an unladylike appetite.
As soon as she had eaten her fill, she took a pot of tea and hid herself away in library. She had absolutely no desire to see Mr. Haverton. She did not even know what she would say to him.
The morning went on and on and still the snow fell. Outside looked incredibly bleak and Mariah was grateful for the roaring blaze of the fire and the maid who diligently attended to it, ensuring that it never went out.