“It sounds eminently practical.” Turning away, he lifted the first book. “We should get this done and then we can make ourselves respectable once more.” He half turned with a smile. “Unless you think that cobwebs should come into fashion? It would be amusing to try.”
She laughed, the recent tension broken. “If I attempted anything of the kind, people would only make fun and say something about my eccentricity.”
“I could do it.” He sighed. “My cousin Julius and I provoke a few reactions from time to time. Though I doubt I could describe him as completely respectable, either.”
She’d read about his cousin, the haughty and influential Earl of Winterton. She paused for a moment, remembering the eminence of this person helping her stack old books. He knew the greatest in the land, called a duke Grandfather, and here he was with her, doing this.
He put the books on the trolley, effectively preventing her from doing any of the heavy lifting by blocking her access with his body. So she gave up her attempts to snag a copy and instead stood ready to maneuver the vehicle out of the room. He opened the door for her and she pushed it out.
Steering proved harder when the trolley was burdened with the four heavy books and several smaller ones and she exerted considerable pressure to keep the wobbly wheels on course. Until, at the end of the first corridor, he stood in front of it. She was concentrating so hard on keeping it steady that she barely avoided crashing into him.
Determination in his eyes, he took the end of the table and shook his head. He wouldn’t allow her to go any further. “I’ll push. You lead the way.”
With an exasperated sigh, she straightened, ignoring her aching back. “Very well.”
They’d just reached the passage that led from the minor rooms where they’d come from to the larger, more stately apartments, when Miss Stobart appeared from nowhere and made them stop by the simple expedient of stepping in front of them.
“Dammit!” Connie exclaimed, before she could control her unruly tongue.
The woman turned a freezing eye onto her. “You may go.”
Connie put her hands on her hips. “I may?”
The woman ignored her as if she didn’t exist and addressed Alex. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
Considering the frown on Alex’s face, that was a most unwise question.
“As you can see, Miss Stobart, Mrs. Rattigan and I have endured a dust storm. We cannot engage in idle chit-chat at this stage.”
He returned to his task.
The lady shot Connie a startled glance of recognition. Connie gave her a regal nod.
The exquisitely formed Miss Stobart emphasized her figure with tight lacing and a white flower-bedecked gown, matching shoes and pretty lace at elbows and neck. She made even more of her assets by the way she thrust her bosom forward. Or rather, up. The contrast with Connie’s practical clothes and disheveled appearance couldn’t have been more obvious.
“I have been walking in the gardens and I’m quite exhausted.” She fanned herself vigorously. “Could you not escort me to my room, my dear Lord Ripley?” Miss Stobart was a handsome woman but someone should tell her that some men preferred not to be pursued quite so vigorously.
Tired of being ignored, Connie took hold of the table and nudged his lordship aside. “I can see you have other obligations. Thank you very much for your help, my lord, but I can manage from here.”
Alex stood foursquare, as solid as a brick wall. He wouldn’t budge. “I wouldn’t dream of it, dear ma’am.” He nodded to the lady in white. “Good day, Miss Stobart. No doubt I’ll see you at dinner.”
When he eased the trolley forward, she moved aside. “Of course.”
Luckily, the library was empty. As Alex wheeled the trolley to the back of the spacious room, Connie checked all the window embrasures, just in case, because she suspected his lordship was in a temper and could well become indiscreet.
His cheekbones were tinged with red and his eyes spat fire. But she refused to become involved in a situation she knew little about. She should really make her excuses and leave. “I really am grateful for your help.”
“Yes.” He puffed out a deep breath and closed his eyes, before opening them again and meeting her gaze. He leaned against one of the wing armchairs then drew away and brushed his sleeves. “I apologize for Miss Stobart’s behavior. She had no right to make the assumptions she did.”
Connie laughed and ruefully regarded her grime-bedecked gown. She wasn’t even wearing lace, just linen sleeve protectors. No wonder Miss Stobart thought she was a maid. “It’s hardly surprising. I’m not exactly dressed like a guest and I was trying desperately to avoid her attention.”
“She shouldn’t make that kind of instant judgment.” Alex frowned. “She behaved poorly.”
“Perhaps she’s under some strain. Anyone can behave badly if they feel stressed.”
He raised a brow. “Miss Stobart was reared in the heart of society. She should control herself better. In any case, she should not be here.” He sighed and pushed his fingers into his hair, dislodging his wig. It fell to the floor with a flump.
What would his short, dark hair and well-shaped head feel like under her palm, if she curved her hand around it? She pushed her mind away from the unruly thought. She’d never know.
With an unnervingly sincere gaze, he took the three steps that separated them. “Allow me to explain. I won’t ask you to do anything that compromises you.”
“Like being in my godfather’s library alone with you and with the door closed?”
He gave a startled laugh and looked around as if noticing they were alone for the first time. “By God, yes. Should I open the door to assuage your sense of propriety?”
Connie couldn’t help it—she smiled. It could have infuriated him, a man boxed into a corner but instead he joined her and that was, perhaps, even more dangerous. Because he had the most attractive smile she’d ever seen. Sensuous with a touch of wicked humor and totally irresistible.
“I’m older, on the verge of thirty. Safe.” She smiled ruefully. “And sometimes lonely.” She swallowed, fighting back self-pity.
“But you’re not desperate.” He took her hand, his touch balm to her loneliness. “I can tell. There’s a scent, an air, or something.”
Rich, handsome, high-born, he was probably pursued as hard as any partridge in August. The foolish image forced a laugh out of her. “I was reared to think of the men as the chasers, the women as prey but it’s the other way about with you.”
“It is truly charming to meet someone so honest,” he said. “And I don’t mean that in any derogatory way. You should come to London. You’d be a sensation.”
She wouldn’t let him turn her head. That was foolish talk. “Lady Downholland spoke of holding a ball to celebrate my marriage to Jasper.” She was looking forward to expanding her experience, living a little.
“I fear then it will be too late.” He released her and moved away. “We should go.” He picked up his wig in one fluid movement. “Though I’d rather stay here, dust or not.”
Chapter 3
For the next several days, Connie avoided the many entertainments her aunt had set up. Jasper had still not arrived but he had