She left him to it, then went up to her room to lie down and have a good cry herself. From there, she dozed off, curle up into a tight ball beneath the covers.

It had taken long for him to calm down. He had shed a few tears, for fear, for shame, and for memories of a broken heart.

When he knocked on Pippa's door, he had calmed down, washed his face, and was carrying a plate with a meat pie. "Pippa?"

She opened the door and peered out, wincing a little as the light spilled in from the hallway into her dark room. She looked like she was more tired than she ought to be. Pippa backed into the room and opened the door wider to admit him in, moving to sit down on the rumpled bed, looking up at him with weary eyes. "Dr. Wells," she said by way of greeting, her voice husky from sleep.

Tristan entered the room slowly and set the tray down. He looked at her concerned. His demeanor was very different from this afternoon: his shoulders hunched, his footfall soft, almost hesitant, his face sad. His voice was timid as he said: "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"No," she said... "Well, I was just waking up right before you knocked," she admitted, "You only helped to wake me." She sighed softly and went on, "Please do sit down... You look as tired as I feel." It was a peace offering.

Tristan nodded, but he didn't sit down. Instead, he leaned on the back of the chair and looked at her, as he had done this morning. His face burned. This time, the apology did pass his lips. "Pippa... The way I conducted myself this afternoon, the way I shouted at you... is inexcusable. I'm sorry."

"You had good reason," she said softly... "I put my nose where it didn't belong, and for that I am sorry. It was, for lack of a better way of putting it, a bloody mess. I should never have said what I said to begin with, as it provoked you. Not my proudest moment... I did mean what I said earlier in that I have grown to care for you as I would a family member. You're the closest I have now, if you don't mind me saying so," she gave a shuddering breath and a suspicious sounding sniff.

Perhaps it was the memory of the heavy emotions of the past two days. Or perhaps it was the fact that he had been lonely for such a long time that the fact that his maid viewed him as almost family, made him feel a little less alone. But either way, Pippa's words were strangely moving. He moved around the chair and sat down. "All the more reason for me to have been kinder and more patient, both today and yesterday. You were right about that," he said quietly. "To be honest...," he stopped himself. "You must continue to feel like family, Pippa. Lord Gordon and I... we'll find a way to help you."

She gave a heavy sigh, as if some worries shifted from her shoulders. She swallowed audibly and closed her eyes against a new onslaught of tears, "I trust the both of you... I feel like I owe you more respect than I've shown. I have been acting rash, not thinking at all of what could and did happen. I am supposed to be a lady. You have every right to put me out for my stupidity, and you haven't," she paused and then said, "Oh, but these tears. Why must I keep crying like a child?" Hormones, duh.

"Come, Pippa. You needn't be ashamed." Tristan said gently, reaching in his pocket to look for a handkerchief, but realizing he had just used it himself. He withdrew his hand. "I've seen plenty of tears in my career, and seen that there are far worse ways people deal with their feelings. And it's not uncommon for pregnant women to be more... emotional and sensitive."

Plus, she was alone in the world, pregnant out of wedlock, and there was some lunatic on the loose looking for her. Really, he couldn't blame her.