“Says the man who reads them too.”
He chuckled. “All right, I concede this round, Temple. Unfortunately, I do not have any of those romantic adventures you seem eager to consume, other than the Ann Radcliffe volumes that it appears you have read.”
“They were very good.”
“Mrs. Fitch can bring them up, too. But I’ll get on it and add a few of your favorite books to my library once the snow clears and I can get to the bookshop to place my orders.”
The notion obviously surprised her. “Surely you would not do this for my sake.”
He shrugged. “I’m sure my mother’s tastes run similar to yours.”
One of the maids entered his bedchamber, her presence putting an end to their conversation. Since Jonas had finished his meal, he remained only long enough to assist Ailis back into bed, and then retired to his study.
There was always work to be done.
He could work in peace if he was of a mind to do so. No one would be foolish enough to ride out in this dangerously foul weather to call upon him today.
But his mind insisted on wandering back to Ailis.
What was it about her that tugged at his heart?
He truly was sorry she had lost her family, and even sorrier that her parents had failed to appreciate how good and kind she was. She had so much love to give.
Did he dare take some for himself?
He snorted and dismissed the possibility immediately. How could he ever shame Ailis by professing interest in her? What could he offer her but ruination? He had no intention of ever marrying. It was not merely a question of his scarred body. He did not think Ailis would ever feel revulsion for that. Many of those scars had faded over time, anyway.
But the burns on his legs and back never would. Nor would the memory of how they came about.
How could he commit to another person when there was so much damage inside of him?
Ailis would insist that love would heal him.
Perhaps.
A marriage where there was love might do it.
Or not.
He dared not make the mistake of marrying and finding out it could not work.
Yet the thought of marrying someone like Ailis did not frighten him, someone with a big heart and the competence to be his duchess. But that perfect woman would also demand his heart and soul.
Therein lay the problem, for his heart was empty.
As for his soul? That had been lost in a French prison years ago.
He went to the stack of newspapers piled in a corner of his study and riffled through the latest ones. After taking out a few he thought might interest Ailis, he summoned Mrs. Fitch to bring them up to her.
“At once, Your Grace,” his ever-efficient housekeeper replied with a nod. “She’ll like these.”
He chuckled. “Yes, she’s a little busybody. These gossip sheets will keep her amused and out of trouble.”
“She’s delightful, and not at all difficult.”
He glanced out the window at the snow still coming down hard. “Glad to hear it, because she is going to be with us for a while if this blasted snow does not let up. At this rate, she could be trapped here the entire winter.”
“Would you mind terribly, Your Grace?”
