The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,71
dusted the books as she removed them from the trunks and stacked them in piles according to subject. While the books covered a vast array of subjects, they had one thing in common: they were all old.
It seemed as if somebody had gone through the library and plucked out volumes based on age alone. In many instances the gaps on the shelves where the books had once sat were still visible.
Benna had worked her way through four of the ten chests when she encountered a locked trunk.
She fetched a letter opener from the earl’s desk and was gently probing the lock when she heard the library door open.
“Good evening, Ben,” Lord Trebolton said.
One glance at the longcase clock showed it was close to midnight; she had been working for almost two hours. Benna clambered to her feet. She’d taken off her fake spectacles earlier to read book spines without interference. As a result, she could see the earl more clearly than usual. He was gorgeous in his form-hugging black tailcoat, antique gold waistcoat, and skin-tight black pantaloons.
His new valet, a grim-looking Londoner named Toomey, had cut and styled his hair in a way that swept it forward, which meant it had the tendency to tumble attractively over his forehead.
Benna guessed that he did not much care for the flattering style as she’d seen him brush the thick locks back, his eyebrows knitted in irritation. Every morning she expected him to appear without the charming curls, the victim of scissors which he’d employed himself, or ordered his man to use.
“Ben?”
She’d been staring at him. Again.
“Good evening, my lord.” She took a step toward the door. “I shall leave you in private.”
“No need to go haring off.” He pointed to her hand. “What have you got there?”
Benna glanced down at the letter opener. “One of the trunks is locked and I was trying to open it.”
“I think I have something more effective.”
She watched from beneath lowered lashes as he went to the desk that had been moved back to its place in the library.
The earl lifted a heavy ring of keys from one of the drawers and handed over the unwieldy bundle. “I admit to knowing only what two or three of these are. I suppose that is another project to add to the list—going through the house and seeing which key fits what lock.”
Benna sat cross legged in front of the chest. “Nance and Mrs. Gates both have keys but none of theirs fit the chest.” She picked a key with a distinctive shape to start, so she could tell when she had tested them all.
The earl had taken a seat not far from her and Benna looked up at the sound of his soft snort. “You managed to get the pair to cooperate with one another in such an activity?”
Benna tried the next key. “I told Nance that Mrs. Gates did not think he had the complete set and then I told Mrs. Gates the same thing.”
He chuckled but Benna was wise enough not to glance up. Just hearing him laugh was enough to make her stomach flutter. If she looked at him she’d probably launch herself at him again.
“It sounds as if you are very skillful at managing my staff.”
“They’re not difficult to understand. Each has been guarding their turf for almost forty years.”
“Yes, only Cook is new to the battle, which is a triangle now. When I was a boy, Gates and Nance conducted a two-front war.”
Benna smirked at the apt description as she dismissed the next two keys as too small without even testing them. “That was the same case as the stable master and head groom at my—” She caught herself barely in time before blurting father’s house.
“—at my first job,” she finished awkwardly.
“You mean at the posting inn or when you worked for Mr. Fenton?”
Benna deliberately hesitated, examining a key, as if to check the configuration of its bit more closely. She waited a few seconds before looking up.
“I beg your pardon, my lord?”
His eyes were obscured by the candlelight, his lenses two small gold reflections. “Tell me a little about your life with your father. Did you move often?”
Benna breathed a quiet sigh of relief that he’d left the other matter alone. As she looked down at the lock, her mind spun to recall what she’d told him about her father thus far.
I always told you that the best lie was the simplest one. I’m very disappointed in you, Benna.