Page 35 of The Last Heir to Blackwood Library

The idea of sharing her treasure with the world was appealing, but this place wasn’t a resource for the world; it was a resource for the few. The rich few. Would a place like Watson Castle ever have admitted a woman through its doors, and a poor woman at that? It was one thing to lend out books, but another entirely to invite the world into her home, and a feeling of protectiveness washed through her.

“It...it would be a great deal of work,” Ivy said weakly. Already cataloging and trying to keep everything clean was taking its toll on her. How could she possibly bring the library up to this standard? It would be like turning her old boardinghouse into Buckingham Palace.

He drew her closer, his warmth and decadent scent wrapping around her. “We’ll take it on together. There’s no need for you to be struggling alone anymore. I want what’s best for the library, but also for you. You must know that I care for you. Let me help you.” His voice was smooth and comforting, a whisper so that they didn’t disturb the other patrons. “Let me into your life, Ivy. I swear that you will not regret it.”

Her eyes drifted closed, and she tipped into him, the movement involuntary but so good and right. “What are you suggesting, exactly?” she asked in a whisper.

Taking her chin, he gave her a knowing look, his dark eyes all velvet fire. “I think you know what I’m suggesting, darling.”

The hush in the library intensified, and she became aware of the charged air between them, the way he was studying her.

“Are...are you proposing to me?” Ivy asked with a suddenly dry throat.

Dropping to one knee, Arthur produced a gold ring, holding it up between his fingers. “Marry me, Ivy. Together we could be unstoppable, and Blackwood could take its rightful place in England, in the world.”

Her heart beat faster, the implications of his proposal racing through her head. But the memory of Ralph’s pleading eyes and warnings came back to her. “Are you asking to marry me, or the library?”

Arthur stood, cupping her cheek in his hand and drawing her closer. The other patrons and silent stacks of books faded and dimmed, leaving only the two of them locked together. “You, only you. I know you, Ivy, and I know what books mean to you, because they mean the same thing to me. If I seem eager about the library, it’s only because I know it’s the way to your heart. And I very much want to be let inside that heart.”

Ivy felt light and deliciously dizzy with Arthur’s hands warm on her face, as if she might float up to the ceiling and join the trumpeting figures in the mosaic. She wouldn’t be alone anymore; the hole that had only grown larger since her family’s deaths could start to heal around the edges, maybe even shrink. Her dreams of having a family of her own were within reach. Arthur was a good, honorable man, and he valued the same things as her. Arthur knew this strange new world to which she had been elevated, could help her navigate it, find a home in it. But most of all, he would help her, with the library, with Blackwood, all of it. She didn’t have to bear the headaches, the dreams, and the ghosts alone anymore.

“Ralph—that is, my chauffeur—told me something about you. About the club you’re a member of.”

Arthur raised a brow. “Your chauffeur? Do tell.”

Forced to recount his warning out loud she realized how ridiculous it sounded. “He said that you’re only interested in me because you want your club to be able to use the library.”

Laughing, Arthur drew her closer into his embrace. “It’s no secret that my father and Lord Hayworth had differing ideas when it came to the library and the dissemination of information. If the staff at Blackwood overheard one of their heated discussions, I could see how they might have thought that the old fellows might come to blows. Though in general, I would not trust the gossip of servants. Especially young male servants who may have a passing fancy for their mistress.”

All of Arthur’s explanations were so simple, so logical. It felt good to let him explain everything away and to forget all the unknowns and cling to something real.

“Yes,” Ivy said against his chest. She hadn’t realized that she had been drowning since she arrived, but now that the surface was near, she couldn’t break through and get air fast enough. The niggling sense of wrongness that had haunted her since coming to Blackwood suddenly faded away. It was like falling into a soft, warm bed after miles of travel, her weary body finally given permission to rest.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Breaking into a grin, Arthur lifted her up and swung her around, startling the men from their reading and drawing censorious looks. “Oh, my darling.” He placed her back down, but not without a big, smacking kiss to the cheek. “You’ve made me so happy, happier than you can ever know.”

18

“My lady, where have you been?”

It was a good question. Mrs. Hewitt watched as Ivy stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked about, trying to remember what she had just been doing. There was mud on her boots, so she must have been bicycling or out walking, but she couldn’t recall why or where. It had been what—a week? two?—since Arthur had swept her off her feet with his proposal, and her days were becoming progressively blurrier, moments strung together on a tangled string.

“I was... I believe I was bicycling.”

“Well, there was a message from Sir Arthur,” Mrs. Hewitt said. “I told him you were indisposed.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hewitt,” Ivy said crisply as she peeled off her gloves. But Mrs. Hewitt made no movement to leave. “Yes?”

Mrs. Hewitt pursed her lips, her long face stamped with disapproval and an edge of worry. “Is there...is it true, that there’s an understanding between you and Sir Arthur?”

Ivy paused before taking the first stair. Word certainly traveled fast. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business, but in fact, yes. We are engaged to be married.”

The color drained from Mrs. Hewitt’s face. “Oh, my lady, you can’t,” she said.

A movement out of the corner of her eye, and Ivy caught sight of Ralph, hovering just outside the doorway. She found herself unaccountably irritable that he was once again looming about watching her, as if he had some claim on her. At her words, he threw down the tool belt he had been carrying, the clatter echoing through the hall. There was a wild glimmer in his eyes as he stalked away that sent her stomach into a free fall.

“I can, and I will,” Ivy snapped, dragging her gaze from where it lingered at the doorway. “Now please, I don’t want to hear any more about Sir Arthur or what I may or may not do. I am an adult woman, and lady of this house. I will marry whom I please.”

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