Page 18 of Who’s That Earl

Despite the nuns’ warnings, Allora was determined to discover the source of the glowing light. The convent walls, once her only security, had become a prison to her, and that light, a beacon of freedom. If only she could find a way to—

“Nose to the grindstone already this morning, Mrs. Higginbotham?”

Jane managed not to jump at the sound of Thomas’s voice. Years of practice, including almost daily interruptions by Agnes, had trained her not to scurry to hide what she was working on. Such a reaction inevitably piqued curiosity.

The dogs, however, had never shown much aptitude for feigning calm. Athena, who had been sleeping quietly on the sofa, leaped up and stood with her paws on its rolled arm, barking furiously at the intruder. Aphrodite, disconcerted to find herself alone in the front of the hearth, flattened her body, laid back her ears, and began to growl.

Their reactions still seemed to amuse Thomas, more than alarm him. But at least he did not stray any farther into the room this time. With exaggerated care, Jane blotted her page, cleaned her pen, and corked the ink bottle, ignoring both the dogs’ behavior and the unexpected guest.

“I’ve always been an early riser, Mr. Sutherland,” she explained, finally. “I generally begin at dawn, work until mid-morning, then take the dogs out for some exercise.”

At the mention of going out, Athena and Aphrodite momentarily forgot their distrust of Mr. Sutherland and bounded to her at the desk, tails wagging. “Sit,” she ordered sternly. This time, only Athena listened.

When Jane glanced toward the doorway, Thomas was fighting a laugh. Drat him. It was only half-past nine, and now she was going to have to take the dogs down for a romp in the courtyard if she wanted any peace. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”

He was leaning with one shoulder against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. If he’d shaved this morning, then his razor needed a good stropping. And that loosely knotted cravat and tousled hair? Disheveled, her brain declared. Disarming, retorted some part of her that didn’t ordinarily do much thinking.

“I’m going down to Balisaig.” Whether or not he’d enjoyed a more restful night than she had, his eyes were bright and full of their customary mischief, more appealing than they had any right to be. “I came to fetch my coat and hat.”

The village? What did he hope to discover there? “On the chair by the door,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to—”

Aphrodite jumped up, put her paws in Jane’s lap, and gave a sharp bark of reprimand, as if to say, “You promised.”

This time Thomas laughed outright.

She fixed him with a hard stare. This disruption to her routine was all his fault.

He straightened his posture but was otherwise uncowed by her stern expression. “Seems a pity that Ratliff makes you work while he plays.”

“Research is not play.”

“He’s left a whole sheaf of pages for you to copy, I suppose?” His gaze settled on the desktop.

Instinctively, she began to gather her papers, breaking one of her own cardinal rules. “You needn’t concern yourself with my—”

“Come with me.”

“—work,” she finished as he spoke across her. “What?” She’d assumed he would be eager for an opportunity to pry into things without her looking over his shoulder.

“Come with me. We can even take the dogs.” Recognizing that they were under discussion, Athena stood up, and Aphrodite stopped pawing at Jane’s knee long enough to look over her shoulder. “Perhaps if we wear them out,” he suggested with a shrug and a grin, “they won’t have as much energy for distrusting me.”

Did he hope the long walk might have a similar effect on her?

Filled with morning light, the first sunshine in a week, the diamond-paned window gleamed like the gemstone after which it had been patterned. Last night’s flurry of snow, dusted along its edges, had already begun to melt. The dazzlingly bright world beyond was as unlike the scene she’d been writing as could be imagined. With her index finger, she scooted another page onto the stack she’d made.

She had a book to write, and people who depended on her to be responsible. She was no longer a silly girl, to be taken in by the offer of a stroll on the arm of a handsome gentleman.

Unbidden came a far more recent memory: the feel of his corded forearm beneath her hand last night.

Her fingers curled into the unbending wooden arm of the chair instead. “I should be working.”

His head tipped to the side as he studied her. “That’s no’ a ‘nay,’ lass.”

For a moment, she refused to say more, refused to be charmed by that hint of a brogue, which he put on and left off at will. But he showed no sign of taking that broad hint and leaving her in peace.

She pushed herself to her feet. Aphrodite and Athena began to dance around her ankles. “All right, Mr. Sutherland. I’ll fetch my pelisse and meet you in the courtyard in a quarter of an hour.” All smiles, he bowed, retrieved his things, and turned toward the stairs.

Half an hour’s cold walk into the village, the time spent there, and then the journey back again, longer because uphill. Dogs yapping incessantly all the while.