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He watched her carefully, unsure of how to respond. There was not a single penitent wince or embarrassed blush on her face. Not even a flicker. How could she be perfectly fine with her behavior? She had to be one of the strangest women he’d ever met. Her twinkling eyes made her one of the prettiest women he’d ever met, too.

“I did have reasoning for my staring, though. You see, this is where I come to read every morning.” She pulled her hands out from behind her back, revealing a book.

He waited for her to explain further, but she looked at him expectantly, as if he was supposed to know the magnitude of her words already.

“I’m…sorry?” he said, ending in a question. She looked perplexed. Was he not the one who ought to be confused? “Is there, perhaps, another location where you might read?”

“But I always read here. From nine o’clock to ten o’clock.”

He stared. What did she expect him to do, stop working, leave the house, and come back when she was finished?

Her silence spoke measures. He should’ve known. All people who came from wealth were the same. “I suppose I could speak with your father to ask him if…”

She shook her head with wide eyes, ending his words. “Oh, heavens, no,” she blurted out.

Perhaps word of their conversation alone together would not reach her father then. That was a relief.

Checking her volume, she continued softer. “He wouldn’t understand my desire to read here. At any rate, he is still away on business.”

She looked longingly at the corner of the room, and he followed her gaze to the oversized chair he’d noticed on his first day, the crumbs no longer visible. Had she been the one to put them there?

Her continual stare in that direction answered his question.

He wiggled the tools in his hands. Every moment that ticked by increased the likelihood of them being discovered. Mr. Coventry may be absent, but that would not stop Mr. Morley or any other member of the household from telling him that the woodcarver was possibly fraternizing with his daughter.

She needed to leave. Now. “Ma’am?”

Miss Coventry blinked, withdrawing from her daze. “Do you, perhaps, know for how long you will be carving?”

Edward hesitated. If she was that attached to the library, how would she react to the truth? “I’m afraid my work here may take some time. A few months at least.”

Her shoulders fell. “I see.”

He certainly was not to be blamed for his presence there, but the disappointment on her face tugged at his conscience. He needed to help her. Especially given that one negative word to her father might persuade Mr. Coventry to send Edward home without a shilling.

“I leave before six o’clock every day. Perhaps you could read here then.”

“No, that is when I visit with my family, providing they’re not out.”

She certainly wasn’t making this easy on him. “I could take an hour’s long break in the afternoon if that will suffice? One o’clock, perhaps?”

She shook her head. “I am occupied all afternoon. And one o’clock is when I paint, not read.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment.

Edward wasn’t sure if the absurdity of the situation was getting to him or if he was simply attempting to cope with the strangeness of it all. Either way, a stitch of humor sidled through his defenses, and he fought hard to keep his smile at bay.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he responded.

She looked up at him, catching his eye and pausing for a moment without speaking. “Oh, that’s all right.”

He watched her expectantly, thinking she would finally excuse herself, but she remained.

“You must be an accomplished woodcarver for my father to have hired you. He is quite particular when it comes to whom he employs.”

Suddenly, Edward didn’t mind her lingering. “I’m humbled that he would use me, then.”

She nodded, her eyes searching his, then she abruptly curtsied and turned on her heel. “Good day, sir,” she murmured over her shoulder, then she was gone.

Edward stared at the empty doorway, blinking. That woman was just as odd as he’d remembered, and she would certainly prove to be a terrible distraction.