Surprisingly, a letter arrived around dinner time that evening from Lady Belle. She requested that the art pamphlets he had borrowed be returned the next day. He could have sent them over with a servant, but the prospect of seeing Faith again was too tempting to resist. Though he doubted they would find much privacy, he still felt the need to be near her, so the following afternoon, he made his way to Lismore Hall through the rain.
Upon entering the library, which Belle used as her private office, he saw the old woman sitting behind her desk with a tea set just being set down by a maid. Her faithful companion, Andrews, stood behind her, barely acknowledging Logan’s appearance.
“Harris!” Belle said excitedly, looking up from her work. “Excellent timing, I was just about to have some tea. Would you care for some?”
“No, thank you,” he said, handing over the dozen pamphlets he held.
He set them on the corner of her table.
“Thank you for letting me borrow these. They were most helpful.”
“Oh, I’m glad,” she said as she stood.
“I’m surprised you kept them for so long. Some date back several years.”
“I do enjoy keeping things. It’s the historian in me,” she said, coming around the desk. “You know, I have gossip pages somewhere around here from the year my sister made her debut. I’ve kept them for nearly sixty years.”
Logan chuckled, perplexed.
“Why?”
“Oh, why do people do anything? Because I enjoy them,” she said, staring at him as silence settled around them. “So. How are things going with you?”
Though he knew she couldn’t possibly understand what had been happening in his life, Logan pinned her a steady glance.
“As well as they can, I suppose.”
Belle made a strange little “humph” noise as if displeased by his answer. He was about to inquire as to what troubled her when she peered over his shoulder suddenly.
“Ah! Faith my dear, could you come in here, please?”
Logan turned around to see a startled Faith stop abruptly in the doorway. Evidently, the sight of Logan was shocking, for her eyes were wide, and her cheeks seemed somewhat pale. He took a step toward her instinctively before remembering that they were to not demonstrate any actual friendly feelings in front of an audience.
His hands balled into fists.
“Aunt Belle,” Faith said, coming into the room. Her chin dipped a fraction. “Mr. Harris. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”
“I was just returning some pamphlets to Lady Belle,” he said, motioning with his hand behind him at the desk where he had placed the booklets. “I thought you were—”
He stopped himself before he could finish his sentence.
“Thought what?” Aunt Belle asked, almost intrusively.
“Ah, I was just, um, returning from my lesson with Jeanne,” she said, turning her hands out against her skirts as if to display her riding habit. “The rain stopped us again.”
“I see,” Logan said, his tone somewhat rough.
An electric heat seemed to pass between them. Logan was unsure if the unannounced meeting was affecting him, but all he wanted to do was take her by the hand and escape Lady Belle’s company so he could have Faith to himself.
As if she could read his mind, Aunt Belle cleared her throat and stepped around him.
“Andrews, would you help me with something? I’ve quite forgot my need for, erm, my walking stick.”
Faith looked at Belle, her gaze worried.
“Are you not feeling well again, Aunt Belle?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. The rain wreaks havoc on my poor old bones. Andrews?” she said, making her way to the door briskly before suddenly stopping. She began to limp as if suddenly remembering to do so. “Shall we? I’ll only be a moment, my dear. I’m sure you can entertain Mr. Harris while I’m gone.”
