Page 82 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
Isabella’s amber eyes flickered, but the emotion reflected had been too quick for Nash to decipher.
“Yes, Your Grace. One moment, please.”
“Take all the moments you need,” Nash told her. “I have time.”
Isabella nodded and moved to the bookshelves lining the wall. He watched as her hand trailed over several books before she stopped and pulled one out. She looked through it briefly but shook her head and put it back.
Her journey continued to the next bookshelf, but this time she climbed the ladder and leaned to the side. Nash hoped she didn’t lean too far to the side and possibly fall off the ladder, but even if she did, he would likely be there to catch her.
“Have you found anything yet?” he asked.
“Not yet, Your Grace, but I will. I’m just looking for a specific book and cannot recall where I saw it. I clean this room every day and keep these shelves tidy; thus, I should know precisely where everything is.”
She sounded a bit annoyed with herself and was probably mentally chiding herself.
“I’m confident you will find it. Which book is it?”
“Waverly, Your Grace.”
Nash frowned. “I do not think I have read it before.”
“Yet it lies here in your library. I suppose you cannot have read all the books in this vast room, but if I were in your shoes, I would most certainly try.”
Nash smiled, glad to hear Isabella sounding more like her opinionated self. He disliked her docile manner and the distance between them whenever she acted as the perfect servant. Perhaps it was ridiculous of him not to want a servant to act as a servant, but Isabella was different.
“Do you know what the story is about?” Nash asked. “I imagine you do since you are recommending it to me.”
“It’s a historical novel, Your Grace. It’s set during the Jacobite Rising.”
“Ah, when Bonnie Prince Charlie attempted to regain the British throne for the Stuart family. I do not think I shall like that story much. I am not a great lover of historical fiction.”
“I think you should at least give it a chance,” Isabella insisted. “It takes a little while to get into, but once you do, you are drawn into the story and imagine yourself in the Highlands.”
Nash was a tad dubious, but he nodded anyway. “Very well, but I must warn you that I might fall asleep if it bores me.”
“Perhaps that is what you need— sleep.”
“I get more than enough at night,” Nash assured her. “Let me not keep you from looking for the book.”
Isabella turned back to the shelf, climbing two railings down the ladder before she gave an “Aha!” and pulled out a reddish-brown leather-covered book.
“Here it is, Your Grace. I knew it was somewhere up here, but I was not entirely certain. Perhaps I need to rearrange the books to make more sense.”
She climbed down the remaining railings and returned to her seat, adjusting the cushion behind her back.
“Are you comfortable?” Nash asked. “Would you like another cushion?”
Isabella grinned. “Too many cushions and I might fall asleep! No, this one is enough for my needs, Your Grace. Are you comfortable?”
“Most comfortable,” he assured her. “You may begin reading.”
Isabella cleared her throat before starting. “Chapter one. The sun was nearly set behind the distant mountains of Liddesdale when a few of the scattered ...”
Nash settled into his chair with a contented sigh, letting Isabella’s soothing voice wash over him. He needed to savour moments like these as much as he could, or he would forever regret not spending enough time with her.
I regret that she will have to leave, but I cannot be selfish and keep her here.
Nash let Isabella get to chapter five before he stopped and allowed her to return to her duties. He picked up the book and continued where she had left off, surprised that he liked the story. Perhaps Isabella understood him like no other woman had, and if that were true, then letting her go would test his ability to recover from yet another loss in his life.
