am glad you are starting to feel at home, Miss Wilding.’
The warmth of that smile sent butterflies dancing in her stomach. She repressed them with a frown. ‘There is no sense in going somewhere and leaving again without finding out something about it.’ She sighed. ‘And besides, it caught my eye because it was out of place, pushed in there with the novels.’
His smile broadened. His grey eyes danced with amusement. ‘Did you ever hear the saying, curiosity killed the cat?’
Now he was teasing her. ‘Without curiosity we would be no better than the beasts of the field, my lord.’
He laughed out loud. ‘Then I hope you find this worth another fall.’
‘The first fall was hardly my fault.’ Perhaps he was thinking that if she hadn’t fallen and been whisked out of the way by Mr Trelawny she might already be out of his way. The lightness she’d been feeling dissipated in a rush.
Sensing the change of mood, he huffed out a sigh. ‘The rest of them went to play billiards. Even Mrs Hampton. I came to see if you wanted to join them. To be truthful, I had thought they would come here after dinner.’ He sounded disgruntled, as if they had spoiled his plan. What, had he expected them all to gather in the library, like some sort of close-knit family? The kind of family she had always dreamed of having. Or had dreamed of once, a long time ago. Now, she only wanted her job back. Her classes to teach. Her girls.
He handed her the book and wandered around the room, looking at titles, poking around in cupboards. He looked large and restless, as if he couldn’t breathe in the confines of the room. How could she possibly read with him pacing around like a caged lion? To be truthful, with his dark looks, he reminded her more of a panther than a lion. But just as dangerous.
Perhaps he was eager to play billiards and felt obligated to see to her welfare. In which case, it would be easy to set him free. A little stab of disappointment caught her by surprise. What, did she want him to stay? Surely not?
‘I am quite happy to sit here and read,’ she said, tacitly giving him permission to depart. She glanced down at the little book and flipped through the pages. It was not a printed book. It was handwritten and there were sketches of the abbey looking very different to how it looked today. The paper was old and yellowed. Parchment? At the back of it were what looked like maps. She quickly turned to the middle of the book. She wanted to look at those maps, but not in the presence of the earl.
‘Do you consider yourself a blue-stocking, Miss Wilding?’ he asked idly, riffling through the pages of a volume he had pulled from the shelves. He held it up. ‘A Mary Wollstonecraft acolyte? You have read her work, I am sure.’
‘A Vindication Of The Rights Of Woman? I think it astonishingly far-sighted.’
He looked at her for a long moment and she had the feeling he was considering his options. ‘You agree with her, then?’
‘On many counts.’ She swung her legs to the floor to face him. Her hands clasped tightly in her lap. ‘Why should girls not receive the same education as their brothers? Not everyone is destined to be a wife or a mother. And even in those roles, surely an educated woman is a valuable addition to any family.’
‘You are passionate in your beliefs, I see.’
And she had exposed herself to his mockery by the intensity of her response. She stiffened against her desire to back down, to please him. ‘Why should I not be, since it is of importance to me as a person?’
‘And it is your opinion that a woman need not, by definition of her sex, suffer from an excess of sensibility. You would not consider romantic love as a requirement for a contented marriage?’
Was this a proposal? Her heart gave a painful lurch. ‘It is a sound principal from which to begin.’ A painful flush rushed to her cheeks, because it was only partly the truth. Whatever she believed in her rationale mind, her heart wanted more than mere friendship or affection.
In her youth, it had yearned for love.
Yet she was not the sort of woman men fell in love with. She had accepted that. And now he was stirring up all those old emotions, those longings. Resentment rose