No time to waste,she reprimanded herself.Remember what Mama said about making a good impression, or else there’ll be no books at all.
She hurried across the room, heels clunking on the rough wooden floor, to the section marked Botany. Fingers skimming over the spines, she looked out for the title she was here for. She would just grab it, dart up to her room to secure it, and then…
A floorboard creaked behind her, and Felicity froze.
Holding her breath, she risked a glance over her shoulder.
A man stood there, tall and dark and severe-looking, with a pixie-like nose and smooth, handsome features that were marred by a vicious-looking scar. The scar was vivid red and raised and went from his hairline to his cheek. Felicity had never seen a person with such a nasty mark.
He cleared his throat, and she realized she was staring. Colour leapt to her cheeks. With her fingers around the spine of the book she wanted, Felicity began to wonder whether she should have secured Mrs Langley’s permission first.
Did he think she was stealing?
“I… I thought nobody was here,” she heard herself say, thinly and nervously.
The man didn’t smile. She had already guessed who he was, even without the tell-tale scar.
What is the Earl of Lanwood doing in here, hiding, instead of greeting his guests?She thought.
He didn’t speak, and she licked her lips nervously.
“I… I am Miss Felicity Thornhill. Who are you, might I ask?”
“I am Lord Arthur Langley,” he said, his voice a deep, disapproving rumble. “I am the earl of Lanwood. I don’t think you should be in here, Miss Thornhill.”
Chapter Four
Arthur immediately regretted stepping forward. The poor woman looked terrified and guilty. She was, after all, his guest. A frisson of nerves ran through Arthur at that thought, the realisation that he would have to go out and greet his guests soon. He’d been avoiding the thought as best he could.
He wouldn’t be alone, of course. His mother would be there, and Lucy, and naturally Thomas Elliot, Arthur’s old friend.
None of that could quite tackle the cold feeling of anxiety, however.
And of course, it didn’t change the fact that Arthur was standing alone in the library, with an unfamiliar, pretty young woman staring up at him with an expression of trepidation.
She had been about to take a book out of the shelf, and Arthur glanced at the spine. The title of unfamiliar, some dusty old botanic tome that he’d never read himself.
The woman – Miss Thornhill – cleared her throat, and stepped forward, fingers laced together, smiling earnestly and nervously.
“Your… your predecessor, the last Lord Lanwood, said that I could have a book from this library. I… I don’t intend tokeepit, naturally, only to read it, and maybe make some notes… ahem. I should certainly have asked your permission before coming in here. Lucy said it would be alright, otherwise I never would have dared…”
She was floundering a little now, and Arthur felt guilty. She was very pretty, although now was not of course the time to notice that.
She was looking at his scar, he knew it. It was, after all, the most noticeable thing about his face. Miss Thornhill was a petite woman, with rich chestnut hair pinned back in a simple knot. She had large green eyes, he noticed, a rare colour.
Stop, he scolded himself.
“You mistake me, Miss Thornhill,” he said, hating how grim and heavy his voice sounded. “I did not mean to reprimand you for taking the book. If Lucy says you may take it, then of course you may. You may keep it, if you like. I don’t believe anyone in the house has a great interest in botany, and anyway, there are other botany books. No, my concern was for your reputation.”
She blinked. “My… my reputation?”
He was not handling this well. But of course there was no chance of simply backing out now. There were wide French doors just across the library, which led out onto the terrace. Arthur could almost feel the fresh air on his face. But he couldn’t exactly go racing out of the room, mid-conversation. He had enough of a reputation for being strange and unfriendly without adding to it.
“If someone were to come in here now, they would be shocked to find you and I alone together,” Arthur said, wishing he’d chosen any other subject to discuss. “Fair or not, reputations are fragile as glass. You know how unforgiving Society can be. If I may make a suggestion for next time, perhaps you should knock.”
A flush spread over her cheeks. His words had been poorly chosen, as always, but it was naturally too late to take them back.
“Of course,” she said, her voice clipped, barely disguising her offence. “Thank you for the warning, Lord Lanwood.”
