Or perhaps her willingness to make excuses for him stemmed from the fact that she missed him. It was stupid, of course, to think about missing someone one had met on only two occasions. But her two meetings with Nicholas Seyton had brought her the only excitement she had felt in years. She wanted him to kiss her again. She had been left unsatisfied the last time. His very upsetting suggestion had put an end to the pleasure that had been building in her. She ached physically for another chance to experience those pleasurable feelings.
But it was not just his kisses that she missed. There was something else about the man that exhilarated her, something that appealed to a kindred spirit in her. Mr. Seyton was a man with a goal in life, and he was willing to work toward that goal even at the expense of his own safety. There was a spirit of adventure in him. Kate found herself envying him greatly. If only there could be more adventure in her life! She would burst soon at the boredom of her present existence.
So she decided to begin searching the library for she knew not what. At least while doing so she would be able to pretend that she was doing something furtive and highly dangerous. Perhaps she would find some document for which the earl would be prepared to kill, a document of such crucial importance to Mr. Seyton that she would not be able to entrust its care even to the servants he had named. She would have to deliver it herself. And then . . .
Kate made a face at herself in her glass as she smoothed her hair into place again, smoothed out the folds of her brown cotton dress, and left her dressing room in search of the earl. She found him without any effort at all. He was standing at the top of the marble steps outside the main doors, apparently describing the fountain to Lady Lacey and her daughter Angela. Kate waited respectfully in the doorway until the ladies began to descend the steps and the earl turned to reenter the house.
“My lord,” she said, “if it is convenient to you, I should like to spend a few hours in the library cleaning and perhaps beginning to catalog the books.”
“Ah, Mrs. Mannering,” he said, “what a good idea. I am pleased to see that you know your place and that you do not take advantage of the absence of my daughter. It would not be the thing, you know, for you to mingle with the other guests while she is gone.”
“Quite so, my lord,” Kate said briskly, her hands gripping each other almost painfully. “Do you have a spare moment to tell me exactly what you wish me to do in the library?”
The earl led the way there. “You may begin at the top of this side,” he said, waving an arm in the direction of one long wall. “Those are probably the volumes least used over the years. Dust them carefully, Mrs. Mannering, and make sure that nothing is enclosed in any of them. I am afraid my uncle was a poorly organized man. From my years with him I remember that he had the habit of using any papers he could lay his hands on to mark his place in the books he read. And he was a haphazard reader. He rarely came back to the same book once he laid it down. Many was the time we searched for some paper of importance that had apparently disappeared, only to find it between the pages of some obscure volume.” He chuckled.
“What an alarming habit in someone of importance,” Kate murmured.
“Yes, indeed,” he agreed. “If you find any papers, Mrs. Mannering, you need not trouble your head examining them or deciding if they are of any importance. Set them on the desk and I shall look them over myself.”
“I shall certainly do so,” Kate said agreeably, tying around her waist an apron she had brought with her.
“If you wish to take note of the titles and begin planning some organization of the books, you may do so and make your proposals to me at a later date,” the earl said.
“Yes, my lord,” Kate said, and she curtsied as he left her alone in the library. She felt like a conspirator as she gazed along the shelves all jammed full with leather-bound volumes. Oh, dear, what a formidable task it was, and how unlikely that she would come across anything that would be of any assistance to Mr. Seyton in his quest. What sort of document was likely to be of importance to either him or the earl anyway? Something that named his mother and the place where she had lived five-and-twenty years before? Was it possible that that letter his mother was reputed to have written after his birth still survived? Was that what she was looking for? Kate sighed and pushed the movable staircase along the wall until she could climb it and reach the heavy books in the top corner.
More than an hour later she looked back along the shelf to view the books she had already cleaned and examined. It was a depressingly small number. The trouble with her, Kate decided, was that she could not open a book without having to examine and become engrossed in its contents. In fact she had almost forgotten her main purpose in opening each volume. It was only the slim and yellowed piece of paper she had found in this particular one that had brought her mind back to the task at hand. The paper appeared to be an ancient bill for candles and quite unimportant. But she dutifully climbed down the steps and placed it on the desk.
She was climbing back up again when the door opened and she turned to see who had decided that the library was a suitable retreat for the afternoon. She was not at all pleased to discover that it was Sir Harry Tate.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Kate said as curtly as she dared, and she continued on her way to the top of the stairs and removed a book from the top shelf.
“Well, if it is not Mrs. Mannering playing at being bookworm,” he said in that bored drawl that had begun to grate on Kate’s nerves. “And an apron, ma’am? Never tell me that you have taken on the task of housemaid and are actually dusting the books.”
Kate turned to stare down at him, not bothering to try to smile or look polite. She was quite unsurprised to find herself being surveyed through a quizzing glass. “I doubt if many housemaids are entrusted with the task of dusting valuable books, sir,” she said. “I have volunteered for the task.”
“Dear me,” he said. “Lord Barton must consider that he has hired a treasure, ma’am. Companion, housemaid, librarian all in one deliciously attractive parcel.”
Kate dusted the book with care and leafed through the pages before answering. “I am Lady Thelma’s employee, sir,” she said at last. “I am employed as her companion. But I would disdain to offer only those services I am contracted for. I believe in using my time wisely and well, no matter what the circumstances. Some things are done for personal satisfaction and not for monetary gain.” She looked down at him, she hoped with great dignity. “And my appearance has nothing to do with anything, sir.”
Sir Harry lowered his quizzing glass and strolled across the room until he stood at the foot of the library stairs. “Why are you leafing through each volume, Mrs. Mannering?” he asked. “Are you hoping to discover that the late earl was eccentric enough to line the pages with treasure maps?”
Kate flushed and glared down at him. “I do not believe it is any of your concern what I do or why, sir,” she said. “Did you come for a book? Pray do not let me delay you. If you do not find it and start reading soon, it will be time for tea and you will have lost the chance.”
“I really had no particular plan, ma’am,” he said, his drawl so pronounced it sounded almost like a yawn. “Some of the guests are resting in their rooms, four took a drive into Trecoombe, and the others are out walking. None of those activities appealed to me. Perhaps I shall help you. Busying myself cleaning books will at least be a novel amusement. Is there room for two at the top of the stairs, do you suppose?”
Kate bristled, “I am quite sure there is not, sir,” she said, “and I will not have my work hampered by one who does not take it seriously at all. I should be obliged if you would remove yourself.”
“Mrs. Mannering,” Sir Harry said with a sigh, setting his foot on the bottom stair, “What a veritable hedgehog you are. I thought my offer particularly obliging and condescending. Your refusal has cut me to the quick.”
He did not mean to do it. He was quite sure that even beneath the conscious level he did not mean to do it.
After all, she might have been hurt. But deliberately or not, Nicholas’ foot pushed too hard against the edge of the stair and the whole contraption moved several inches. Kate shrieked, swayed, tried to regain her balance, and came hurtling down the stairs, her feet moving not quite fast enough to support her weight. She ended up falling heavily against Nicholas’ chest, almost bowling him backward in the process. He found himself, quite without design, holding against him the very shapely body of Katherine Mannering and staring down into her flushed and furious face. He lowered his eyelids and sneered.
“Really, Mrs. Mannering,” he said, “you do not need to hurl yourself at me with such desperate intent. I am really quite approachable by more normal means.”
“Oh!” she said, her bosom heaving against his chest in a manner that set his temperature to rising to a quite alarming degree. “Oh! Unhand me this instant, you, you . . . rake! You did that quite deliberately. You are despicable, sir. Insufferable. Let go of me. You . . . toad.”
It really had not been deliberate, he assured himself. Would he have voluntarily put himself through such torture? The temptation to bend his head and take those indignant lips inside his own was almost overwhelming. The desire to move his hands forward to caress those breasts that were still heaving against his chest set his fingers to itching. He raised one eyebrow and let his half-closed eyes move lazily and impudently over her face.
