Alex had never been a man of faith, but he sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity was watching over him that night. Could this be real? Could this phenomenal, beautiful woman who had charmed him completely also be a bibliophile?
“I must admit to sharing the same preference,” he replied.
Her face lit up at his response, eyes sparkling. “Then I have something I must show you.”
Alex would follow her anywhere. As she took his hand, he desperately needed to keep her close and discover all her secrets, like a puzzle delighting him more with every moment she gifted him. Alex let himself hope, even dream of being enough for her.
Chapter 6
Fern’sheartpounded,certainher hand was sweating as it remained wrapped in his.It’s him, she thought, again and again, stealing glances in his direction as though he might disappear into her imagination if she lost sight of him.His name is Alexander.What a beautiful name.
But he wasdifferent. He didn’t belong here, didn’t carry himself with the ease and arrogance of the men who shared ballrooms with her sisters. He lacked the confidence of knowing he was worthy of his surroundings. He was ascholar, a man who used his mind to navigate the world.
A kindred spirit.
He had touched her, caught her in his arms, even while she was overwhelmed by the noise and the smells and the sound and wanted to escape. But hecaught her, saved her from herself. And she hadn’t flinched or pulled away. His hands were warm, comforting, slightly calloused and rough, but so gentle. Her nerve endings stood on end but didn’t scream in alarm, tingling pleasantly as warmth spread through her. She never felt that way when anyone besides Rose touched her, let alone a stranger. But in the morning at the library, and now on the dance floor, she enjoyed his embrace, even craved more of it. The discovery thrilled and terrified her.
Fern jolted from her thoughts. She bit the inside of her cheek; Rose had said her long silences unsettled others, but Alex simply watched her, as though giving her all the time she needed. She cleared her throat. “Can I show you the house? I mean, the appropriate places for me to show you. The interesting ones too.”
His eyes sparkled, and his mouth spread with a delighted smile. “I would enjoy that. Should we leave breadcrumbs in case I get lost?”
With an easy laugh, she took his hand again and lifted it up, examining where his skin touched hers. She had not worn gloves, much to her mother’s chagrin. The seams of the satin material grated at her flesh and made her teeth clench.Yes, she thought,I like this touch. He looked at her slightly askance but said nothing. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the contact as well.Good, she thought,I haven’t done something wrong. Perhaps I’ve done something right.
“What a remarkable home,” Alex said as they walked down the corridor, gazing at oil paintings lining the walls. “You grew up here?”
Fern nodded, seeing her home with appreciative eyes. “Here and at our home in London, but mostly here.” She ran her hand along the wall, fingers dancing along the sleek wood between frames as she had done countless times before. “I have four sisters, one is my twin.”
“Really?” His blue eyes glimmered like pools of water in the sunshine. “Is she exactly like you?”
Fern’s stomach lurched. “A bit,” she said around the knot that appeared in her throat. She coughed and shook off his question. “We used to run down this hallway in only our stockings when the maids took the carpets out to be beaten. I could usually slide farther than my sister, and then the dogs would join in and chase us. We would laugh and shriek until our housekeeper found us and sent us outside.”
Alex chuckled. “It sounds like you were a handful.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Fern replied, stepping in front of him and stopping in front of a massive door.
“I wanted to show you this,” she said, opening the door and stepping aside with her chin held high. She was instantly gratified when Alexander gasped, his eyes greedily taking in the magnificent space. The library was a masterpiece, a temple to the Redborne family’s love of knowledge. The library was clearly used, as opposed to serving as a monument to the estate’s history. Books littered every available surface and others reshelved haphazardly, as though the reader could not waste time returning them to their proper locations. Soft leather chairs and couches clustered by banked fireplaces, her father’s spaniels lazily sprawled on the pillows snoring softly. “Do you like it?” she asked, holding her breath for his response.
Alexander walked to a nearby shelf and removed one of Fern’s favorites, gaping at the cover. “Gulliver’s Travels,” he whispered, turning the pages reverently. “Is this a first edition?”
Fern beamed. “It is. I read the entire thing in one night the first time I got my hands on it.”
Alexander chuckled. “I got my own copy, not nearly as nice as this, for my seventh birthday, but it took me more than one night. How old were you?”
She froze. The truth could scare him off, but she had already lied enough for one evening. Fern gulped and met his eyes. “I was four.”
He stopped turning pages and looked at her, lips parted. “You are remarkable, aren’t you?”
Her cheeks turned to flame, and she attempted to divert his attention from her oddities. “My father loves reading more than anything else. Well, not more than his family, but he is at his happiest when he is reading. I suppose I inherited the quality from him.” She turned to face him directly. “What do you read?”
He gave her a lopsided grin, and her heart tumbled. “Mostly mathematical works these days, but when I have the chance…” He winked before dropping his voice to a low whisper. “I adore Sherlock Holmes.”
She barked out a laugh and snorted when she tried to cover it. “You enjoy solving mysteries, then?”
“I’m quite terrible at it,” he said with a bashful smile. “It’s nice to have someone else doing the intellectual heavy lifting for a change.”
Butterflies took flight in her stomach, but this did not feel like nerves, but rather bubbling ripples of joy, champagne bubbles spreading out from her center.
“What do you enjoy reading?” he asked, continuing to scan the titles, stopping occasionally to pull a title from the shelf.
