Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,38

It makes me despondent every time I look down at it. That’s all the more reason I should have stayed at Mrs. Northgate’s and worked on my new dress, but when young Mr. Northgate came home and said you had sent all the workers home for the day, I could not wait to come here and see you.”

She could not wait to see him?

“Why did you send the workers home early?”

“I was tired of the infernal pounding.”

“I see we have something in common.”

He could not see that at all. They seemed to have nothing in common. “What’s that?”

“We were both looking for an escape today.”

Nash found it difficult to believe she would see Wentmore as an escape. It felt more like a prison to him most days.

“If you do not wish to study Ecriture Nocturne today, would you like to do something else?”

She really did not seem to realize he was blind and could do nothing.

“We could play chess,” she suggested.

Nash snorted. “How am I to play chess?”

“Have you played before?”

“Of course.”

“I will simply tell you what move I make, and you keep the image of the board in your head. Or, if you prefer, I could read to you. Or I imagine you have a pianoforte in the drawing room. I play terribly, but I can sing loudly enough to hide my mistakes.”

“Yes, I am familiar with your singing.” And he rather wondered what she would sing and play on the piano, should he agree to listen. But that he would save for another time. He found he really did want to learn this Ecriture Nocturne. If only because he could sit beside her, and perhaps she would take his hand again. Pathetic that he was reduced to hoping a woman in a self-described ugly dress would touch his hand, but he was just desperate enough to forgo his pride.

“Show me this night writing,” he said, rising and moving carefully around the desk. He felt for the chair, and she took his hand and guided him to the back of the empty one beside her.

He sat, half hoping she would continue to hold his hand, but she released it. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“For what?”

“To close your eyes and imagine.”

Eight

Pru was almost glad Mr. Pope could not see her. The looks he gave her were really quite amusing. It seemed almost everything she said puzzled him. His brow would furrow and his lips quirk and he would shake his head slightly as though he had not heard correctly. How she wished she could move the lock of hair that fell over one side of his face. She wanted to see his entire expression. She imagined his left eye must be damaged in some way, else he would not want to hide it.

She liked that he had moved to sit beside her. He smelled so lovely, like soap and starch and just a hint of tobacco. Or perhaps the tobacco smell came from the room. She could certainly picture men smoking and clinking glasses of brandy in this space. A large desk all but squatted in the center of the room. Behind it were shelves of books that reached all the way to the ceiling. Pru itched to run her hand along the spines of those books and read the titles. She had read a few already. Those closest to her seemed to be histories of wars she had either never learned about or forgotten. Still, they had to be more interesting than the books of sermons in the vicar’s library.

More shelves of books lined part of the wall behind her, broken by a large hearth where she had built up the fire. An arrangement of chairs upholstered in cranberry and blue had been placed there, and she’d seen the chess set on a table between two of the chairs. She wondered how long it had been since anyone had played with that set and felt sorry for the pieces who had been so long neglected.

The curtains had been closed tight at the window, and Pru also had the urge to open them and peer at the view. It was probably nothing extraordinary—the overgrown lawn and hedgerows. But she could not help being curious.

“Why do I have to close my eyes?” Mr. Pope asked. Oh, but he was stubborn and determined to be difficult. She hadn’t expected this to be easy. In fact, she had not really thought he would allow her to teach him anything today. So he was