Page 21 of Libby's London Merchant
He stared back at her and she did not allow her glance to waver. “This may eventually become a matter for the constable, Miss Ames,” he said finally. “There are places for people like your brother.”
“I know there are, sir,” she replied, and had the small satisfaction of watching him break away eye contact first. “But I trust to merciful providence that you are too kind for that, Squire.”
Her calm words hung in the air and he made no reply, other than to brush the crumbs vigorously from his coat and rise.
Libby stood, too, thinking to herself what a tall race the Cooks were. A mere mortal could get neck strain in that family, she thought, and her lips curved into a smile.
Her smile seemed to recall the squire to the other reason for his visit. He slapped his hat against his knee again. “I warn you, Miss Ames. Do not try that smile on my son.”
She stared at him in surprise and felt warmth rising up her chest to blossom on her face. “But Squire, I—”
“Pretty is as pretty does, miss,” he said, and waved his riding crop at her again. “My Anthony can look much higher for a wife than a penniless brat whose mother is a shop owner’s daughter.”
The words stung. For a fleeting moment she thought of her beloved grandfather, now deceased, and his tobacco shop. “Yes, I suppose that renders me completely ineligible for this county’s society,” she said softly. “You may rest assured, Squire Cook, I would never do anything to encourage your son. I have been raised better than that.”
She marched to the door and resisted the urge to fling it open. “And now, sir, if you will allow me? I needn’t take any more of your valuable time. Your son is safe from me, and I will do what I can with Joseph.”
The dignity of her reply left the squire wordless, for once. He jammed his hat upon his head, bowed to her curtly, and took his leave.
When she heard the front door close, Libby sat down to wait. In another moment, Joseph stuck his head in the door. “Is he gone?”
“Yes, dear,” she replied, and could not hide her exasperation. “Joseph, what possesses you to bother that man’s horses?”
Joseph sat down beside her. “He has beautiful horses, Libby,” was all he said.
The anger left her as quickly as it had come. “Yes, he does,” she agreed. “Joseph, perhaps you could just admire them from the other side of the fence from now on.”
“They always come up to the fence when I am there,” he said. “I think that angers him, too, Libby.”
He was silent. After another moment, Libby patted his hand and left the room. She mounted the stairs slowly. Her first instinct was to summon Dr. Cook and pour out her woes to him and ask his advice with Joseph. Her second thought convinced her of the utter folly of her first thought. She smiled in spite of herself at the thought of the overpowering Dr. Cook kneeling before her, offering marriage.
She giggled. “Oh, dear. Such a picture!” she said out loud as her practical nature took over. No, Dr. Cook, you and I would never suit, she thought as she peeked in the room where the candy merchant lay.
He was wide awake and staring at the ceiling, shivering in the room, which was still warm from the lingering effects of the afternoon sun, long gone from the sky.
“Are you cold, sir?” she asked in surprise.
He nodded. His eyes followed her as she hurried to the blanket chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out another coverlet, tucking it over him, high up under his chin.
“There, now,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’ll feel much better in the morning, I daresay.”
He sighed and settled himself more comfortably in the bed, while Libby smiled down at him. “Would you like something to eat? You must be famished.”
He shook his head. “I would like another drink, Miss . . . Miss...”
“Ames. Libby Ames. The doctor left that bottle of cordial here.”
She raised him up and he drank, uttering sounds of pleasure deep in his throat that startled her. “I don’t know how you stand that brew,’’ she said when he finished and lay back. “Mama bullies me to drink it when I am feeling peaked. And I hold my nose.”
“Thank you, Miss Ames.” He shivered again involuntarily.
Libby smoothed the blanket across his chest. “People do that when they have suffered a severe shock, Mr. Duke. I have seen it before in Spain.”
She stood by the bed another moment. “Do you want me to sit with you for a while?” Libby asked. “Just until you fall asleep?”
He nodded and she pulled the chair closer. “I don’t have any clever stories to tell,” she confessed. “There isn’t much that happens around here. I suppose your London is much more exciting.”
The merchant did not answer. He had closed his eyes. She thought he slept, but in another moment he opened them.
