Page 48 of Kiss Me Lady One More Time
Penelope started out of her reverie. “Hmmm?”
“In the library?”
“Oh, yes.” She smiled at him. “I wished to thank you for the article you sent, and I was thinking about your rituals. I was reminded of something one of mother’s friends wrote to her about. Tensford was kind enough to allow me to search his library and I found a small bit about it.” She rose. “Shall I show you?”
“Of course.”
Whiddon stood too. “And I believe I’ll go as well, my lady, and flatter your cook into including some of her ginger biscuits on the tea tray.”
Everything inside of her fluttered with nervous anticipation as Sterne followed her into the library. Although she noticed he pointedly left the door open as they entered.
“Well, that wasn’t too obvious, was it?” he asked, his tone low.
“What, Hope?” She grinned. “It was as much for her benefit as for ours, I believe. I do feel badly, occasionally. This is a special time in their relationship. They deserve some privacy.” She stretched her arms wide and spun in a slow circle. “And I’m happy for any excuse to spend time in this room.” She ran a hand over the low, comfortable sofa and went to the window. “Sunlight and the smell of books and old leather . . . is there any room so delightful as a library?”
“I’m surprised you should think so. I thought it was people that you find fascinating?” He gestured around the room. “Not so many people about.”
“Surely, you jest?” She reared back to look at him. “There are thousands of people and their stories in here. You are never truly alone in a library.”
He looked about. “I never really thought of it, that way. I’ve found refuge in plenty of libraries, and always thought of myself as alone.”
Something in her chest tightened. “That sounds so sad.”
But something had caught his attention. His head tilted and he was listening.
She did, as well. There it was. A song. She left the window and stepped quietly toward the door. Pushing it halfway closed, she stood behind it and strained to hear.
Ah. She beckoned him. “It’s just one of the maids,” she whispered as he came closer. “She must be straightening up in Hope’s sitting room.” The girl was humming and every few bars would break out into the lyrics of her song. “I don’t know the tune. Do you?”
“No. But I like it.”
She thought about that. “Because it breaks the silence?” she asked, remembering their conversation during their travels.
The look he gave her—it was conflicted, at best. “Yes. And because it means something else.”
“What?”
“The girl is happy. She’s not fearful or on edge. She’s comfortable enough to sing as she works. It’s a testament to Tensford and his countess.”
“Because he’s created a comfortable household?”
“A small community,” he clarified. “You are staying here. You must have noticed that it all functions smoothly. The footmen are attentive, but not tense. The maids are respectful, but do not scurry away at the sight of the earl or his guests.”
“It is the same at Greystone, with both the staff and the tenants. They truly respect Tensford and I think they’ve grown to love Hope.”
“It’s not an accident. It is a skill. A care for the people in their sphere. Believe me, it is not the same in every townhouse or country estate.”
“We saw as much in Lady Tresham’s household, didn’t we?” she asked. “That footman was nervous at the thought of disappointing her—and it wasn’t out of love for her.”
His gaze flew to hers at the mention of Lady Tresham’s household. She knew both of them were remembering what passed between them.
“It’s a skill I would like to learn,” she whispered.
“Being kind is a skill that you have already mastered,” he murmured. “Among others.”
Her breathing ratcheted up a bit and she met his gaze directly. Turning so her back was to the door, she set it moving slowly so that it inched closer to closed. Excitement and desire unwound slowly in her belly, and lower. Arching her back just a tad, she sent him the invitation to come closer.
He did.
