‘More gothic tales for you, Mrs Hardwicke?’ he continued, his nonchalance ringing false. ‘Or perhaps something lighter? You were readingFrankensteinthe night, I arrived,’ he added, spotting the quizzical furrowing of her brows.
‘I had not set my mind upon anything in particular,’ she said distractedly. ‘And I have no particular fondness for gothic tales, onlyFrankensteinis quite the masterpiece...’
‘Indeed. You have read it before?’
‘Yes, my lord. It is one of my favourites. It is so...’ Rebecca turned and smiled broadly at him, then remembered herself, and resumed her perusal of his collection.
Silence fell over the room, though she thought she heard Liam curse himself. It was so tempting to stand there and list all the reasons why she adored the book when he’d looked at her like that and made her feel as though he was actually interested to haveherthoughts, and everything about this entirely improper situation felt right.
But to keep the conversation going was dangerous.
‘You’re here to set things right, aren’t you, my lord?’ she asked softly, her eyes still fixed on the volumes before her.Ninny.‘That is why you came back after all this time?’
‘Yes,’ he managed, after a moment of bewildered silence.
‘I apologise,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I spoke out of turn again.’ Flushing, she distractedly grabbed one of the nearest books and rushed to the door. ‘I shall leave you.’
‘Please, Mrs Hardwicke, sit with me awhile,’ Liam said, half irritatedly, half sweetly. ‘I will behave, I promise. I am quite starved of conversation, and company.’
‘Oh, I... That is... I fear you might find me quite unsatisfactory company, my lord.’
Run away, Rebecca.
‘Nonsense. Anyone who reads Wollstonecraft Shelley and Defoe is bound to be at least remotely satisfactory. I know well all the books in this library, and I recognise that one very well indeed,’ he added, noting her confusion at his spot-on guess of her choice.
Cocking her head, she surveyed him for a moment, trying to decide if he was mocking. Trying to decide whether or not she could trust herself in his presence.
Liam raised an eyebrow in challenge, and sipped his whisky. Finally she relented, and he waved her to the sofa by the hearth. She thought for a moment he might offer her a whisky, but after a second’s hesitation he simply settled into a nearby armchair. A good thing he hadn’t, for already they were testing the bounds of propriety.
Rebecca sat on the edge of the sofa,Robinson Crusoeon her lap, hands grasped tightly above it.
‘Do I frighten you, Mrs Hardwicke?’ he asked gently.
‘No, my lord,’ she replied vehemently. Then, noticing her posture, she relaxed with a defeated sigh. ‘No, you do not frighten me,’ she said softly, with the hint of a smile.
‘Nor does this house,’ he said, his eyes narrowing.
‘Of course not. I should not be here if it did.’
‘And whyareyou here, Mrs Hardwicke?’
‘I was in want of a position, my lord.’
‘I am not seeking to interrogate you—that is, not again,’ he said, obviously sensing her distancing herself again. ‘I am curious, that is all. As I said, you were the only applicant, and, well...’
‘I don’t put any stock in gossip, my lord. I prefer to make up my own mind. In truth, I have found more decay and terror in the cleanest, most respectable houses than I ever have in those more apparently dark and dangerous.’
As with men, she refrained from saying, but only just.
‘And what have you decided about Thornhallow, then?’
‘It is, if anything, my lord, a sad house. In want of...’ She frowned, searching for words more diplomatic than those which immediately sprang to mind.
Love. Attention. Care.Just like you.
‘Warmth.’
Liam pondered Rebecca’s words, and her, for a moment. He was quite sure she’d been on the verge of saying something far more controversial but had refrained. She may not be afraid of him, even after all that had passed, but neither did she trust him fully. Natural, yet something which left a bitter taste in his mouth. Especially when she had the ability to commandhistrust with her sheer presence.
