Page 3 of The Earl and Miss Muffet
Miss Muffet curtsied without further acknowledgment.
Mary stepped forward. “I do hope we will be good friends, Miss Muffet.”
Miss Muffet murmured something they could not hear.
Mother looked at Anton for help. She seemed weary in body and spirit, having not quite recovered from her recent journey to care for his older sister and her children.
Anton cleared his throat and approached Miss Muffet. “Would you care for a tour of Banbury Castle?” He put his arm out as a not-so-subtle hint.
She tentatively accepted his arm, and Anton realized what he had done. He had volunteered to be alone with the silent woman. Heaven help him.
Terrance gave Anton an amused glance as he led Miss Muffet past him and out of the drawing room. Anton showed Miss Muffet the dining room, the ballroom, the portrait gallery, and finally, they stepped into Banbury’s library. A small fire crackled in the hearth and filled the room with more warmth than he liked this time of year. Besides his office, this was his domain.
The rows of books felt more alive than some people. If only their unspoken words could burst their spines and teach him all their wisdom and knowledge. He admired the room for a moment, proud of his collection, then turned to gauge the level of disinterest from Miss Muffet. Instead of tucking her chin down and ignoring him altogether, her attention was consumed with her surroundings. Anton caught a full picture of her profile and blinked in surprise. Lands, she had very fine skin. She extended her neck to see the books on the highest shelf, flush with the ceiling. He caught himself staring at the slender curve of her throat.
He looked away, uncomfortable with the idea of finding such a woman attractive. Dare he mention that this was his private library? It would be a lie, but if he had to share it, he didn’t want it to be with Miss Muffet. His sister, Mary, rarely read unless it was a letter from a friend. Terrance enjoyed history and geography and the farmer’s almanac, but he did not have much of an imagination. So, the library was Anton’s solace from the world. He cleared his throat. “Do you care for books, Miss Muffet?” What a silly question. He recalled her complete absorption in books at Rosewood Park during their house party.
“Yes.” Her answer was so quiet, he nearly missed it.
It was a small triumph, which encouraged him to press her. “Oh? Would you care to borrow a book?”
“Perhaps another time.” Her words were so light they could be carried out the window with the breeze. She turned to leave the library, and his impatience with her grew. He predicted this to be the longest month of his life.
Elena skipped around her bedchamber the next morning, then twirled and fell on her bed. So, this was what heaven was like. She was free here in her room, and it was glorious. The tour of Banbury had been fascinating. It was an actual medieval castle, albeit a renovated one, with a portion of its original moat channeling off into the Oxford Canal. Nonetheless, it had a keep, an outer wall, and an elaborate ornamental garden—all of which were perfectly wonderful for someone as passionate for history as she was. The town was built off of its property as an appendage, rather like a hen watching over its chicks.
Her smile dropped, thinking of what had come after the tour. Dinner had been less thrilling with her conflicting inner voices telling her how she must behave. It was as if Bianca was inside of her, commanding her to follow her rules. Elena blinked away her ugly thoughts. After a full day with her host family yesterday, she refused to think of Bianca. This was a moment to savor.
Unfortunately, her first task of the day would be to make a list of excuses to avoid the family. The less interaction, the less fuel Bianca could use against her. After she pondered a few ideas, she made her way to the dining room for breakfast. She almost turned around when she saw Lord Crawford, his lean figure bent over his food, eating alone. Her eyes went to his neatly combed dark hair and his stylish double-knotted cravat. She stepped backward, but he caught sight of her. Instinctively, she dropped her gaze.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
What was she supposed to say?Yes, infinitely better than at home where my sister plots how to stage my premature death? Instead, she chanced a quick nod. She quietly moved to the sideboard and began to fill her plate with a hardboiled egg, dried dates, and a slice of sweet bread.
She sat as far from Lord Crawford as she could. She moved to take a bite, but his gaze seemed to bore into her. What if he tried to talk to her again? What should she say? She shoved a morsel of bread in her mouth, chewing deliberately slow.
“Uh, Miss Muffet,” Lord Crawford began.
Elena closed her eyes and groaned internally.Please be a reprehensible host and ignore me.
“Would you care to borrow a book this morning?”
Elena wet her lips to erase any errant crumbs. Why did he have to mention her greatest weakness again? She glanced at him through her spectacles, careful to avoid his eyes, and nodded.
His smile showed his relief. “Very good. When you are finished eating, I will accompany you to the library.”
Never had anyone watched her eat before—let alone a handsome, young earl. This would be more torturous than Bianca’s methods.
“Please…” she said. “Go ahead and I shall join you shortly.”
Lord Crawford’s eyes widened, but he stood and excused himself. It wasn’t like shecouldn’ttalk, it was just that she didn’t feel she was allowed to talk. It seemed ridiculous reasoning with him in her mind, but she wanted to explain herself. Perhaps with time, he would respect her silence without judging her as rude.
She ate quickly, not wanting to make Lord Crawford wait. With each step toward the library, she rehearsed her plan of action. Grab a book, thank Lord Crawford, and make an excuse to leave. The library door was open, and she could feel the books beckoning her in. Her father’s library was part of his study, and she only went inside when he left town. The variety of books at home paled against the sheer number his lordship possessed.
“Ah, you have finished already?” Lord Crawford asked, closing a book in his hand and replacing it on the shelf. “I hope I did not rush you. My mother would not like it if her guest went hungry.”
She supposed she should answer. “I wasn’t very hungry.” Nerves tended to render her a poor appetite. Visiting Banbury Castle was exciting and nerve-wracking all at once. Talking to Lord Crawford only heightened those emotions.
“Well then, what sort of books interest you?”
