Page 12 of The Butler and the Bluestocking
“I do understand the frustration of not being able to achieve things simply due to circumstance. That said, how you come by your knowledge is really neither here nor there. I have one last request.”
“Anything.”
The sincerity in his caramel gaze reassured her. “Promise me, you’ll never speak of my work, or the activities you see in this house to anyone.”
“I gave you my word when we first met and you agreed to keep me on as butler. But if you need it, I give my word to you again. You may always rely on me.”
“Thank you for that assurance. You may go now.”
He hesitated at the study door, turning to look at her, but said nothing before leaving.
Bess re-stacked her papers and locked them back into the desk. Then she fiddled with the key, turning it over and over in her hand, staring at the brasswork as if it held the answers to all questions.
How could life be so cruel? She’d finally met a man with whom she shared an abiding interest, and he was totally unsuitable. Would it be so bad, if she abandoned the nobility she’d never wanted for a life of shared scholarship? Of course, Kentigern had given no indication that he wanted to share his life with her. For all she knew, the man kissed every woman who employed him. Good lord, had he played fast and loose with her sisters? Or Patience?
A spurt of fury had her throwing the key at the door. The moment the metal left her hand she felt foolish. If Kentigern were dallying with any of the females in the family, wouldn’t they have said something?I’m not planning to mention that kiss to anyone. So why would my sisters? Why create a teapot tempest over so small a thing?
Her fingers touched her mouth. It hadn’t felt like a small thing. Kissing Malcolm Kentigern had felt like the most momentous experience of all her thirty years. And at thirty years, she should know better than to make a fool of herself over a kiss. She rose, retrieved the key, and put it in her pocket. No more nonsense, she promised herself as she left to seek her bed.
Chapter Seven
Mal marked time frombefore and after the day of the kiss; the day his life changed. It had been a simple meeting of lips, not especially passionate, but transcendent. Yes. Definitely transcendent. Although he suspected the change had actually occurred earlier, when he’d first looked into sea green eyes above the barrel of a pistol. He’d known then life would be different, but he hadn’t imagined how different.
He spent every waking moment, and many moments asleep, dreaming of holding Bess in his arms of touching her, making her sigh with pleasure, prompting that cat-eyed goddess smile that turned his body harder than the Rosetta Stone. She was perfect for him. But as long as he was a butler, he could do nothing to court her. He could only bask in her presence and hope for crumbs to fall from the table of her courtesy.
But much as he’d enjoyed that kiss, wanted many more kisses from Bess, he cursed that momentous day as well. She’d said she did not think the kiss a mistake as it was given in friendship and common interest. Pah! Common desire, he wished. But she’d also become distant, returning to the far side of that desk, making certain he knew there were barriers—physical and social—that she would not permit him to cross. Nor would she cross them herself.
What if she knew he was an earl’s son—second, but nonetheless—and a highly respected scholar in her chosen field? Would those barriers disappear?
As he considered the possibility, her recalled bigger problems. He’d deceived her, and she might not forgive him. She might see him as a competitor rather than a partner. Oh, he wished of all things to be her partner—in scholarship and in life?
And then there was his family. Would James understand and accept into the Marr family a virtually penniless, thirty-year-old woman firmly on the shelf with a strong fear of social events?
As that question arose, the countess informed him they would need the epergne for tonight’s dinner party of twenty guests. She also wanted him to insert more leaves into the dining room table to provide enough room for all the place settings. He’d not had another moment to consider how to resolve the many difficulties facing him if he chose to pursue Lady Bess Bigglesworth.
He’d managed the table expansion with little problem. However, the epergne eluded his minimal butler’s skills. He’d seen his godmother’s huge silver epergne many times, so it should have been in the butler’s pantry. But it wasn’t. He’d tried to look inconspicuous as he searched the rest of the lower floor only to find it with Mrs. Crewe in the kitchen. Puzzle solved. She must have had it all along. At that moment, she was polishing the silver behemoth with some concoction until it shone like a king’s crown.
