Page 3 of Impossible
“Failingto light it and starting a fire in the meantime.”
She lifted the book and took the spill from beneath it to return it to the mantel. “I did not.”
He moved to the desk, his body angled away from her so that she could only see his right side. Even so, she still couldn’t discern his face, just the strong jut of his square jaw.
Moving the book she’d used to extinguish the spill to the other side of the desk, he grunted. “You aren’t supposed to be in here. You’re to keep to your chamber or the dining room.”
“Those are the only places I may go?” Ada snorted. “I’m going to be here a fortnight. I shall need more than my chamber and the dining room to escape boredom.”
“Why? You’re here to look at my ledgers. You may take them to your room. The Primrose Room has a fine desk, and I’ll make sure the lamp is lit in the evenings, since you can’t seem to accomplish that feat.”
“That was your fault,” she said with disdain, forgetting that she preferred to be good-natured. Ada took a deep breath and forced herself to find magnanimity. “You startled me.”
“You’re trespassing where you shouldn’t be.”
Though he was being a dolt about it, she acknowledged that he was right. She was overly inquisitive, and she knew it. “My apologies. I only meant to see if I could get started on my work.” That was, inquisitiveness aside, the primary reason she’d wanted to look at his desk.
“Or to see what you could find out about me while I wasn’t here to stop you.” His low growl stole over her like a shadow, making her shiver.
Not in fear, but awareness. And it roused her ire. “You might be able to frighten everyone,” she said, thinking of Timothy. “However, I will not be cowed by your outrage. I’ve no patience for such theatrics. I came here to do a job, and I’d like to do it.”
His jaw clenched. “Mrs. Bundle was supposed to tell you we would meet in the morning.”
“Even if she had, I would have still come in here. I like to be busy, and I wasn’t tired.”
He grunted. “Then read a book. The library is next door.”
“Yes, I was just in there. It’s a stunning room. Was it added to the house after it was built?”
Silence reigned for a moment, and she could almost feel his derision. So much for making chitchat.
She gave up on conversation. “If you’d like to hand me one of your ledgers, I can take it up to my room and get started. Though, I’d rather have a different place to work. Perhaps the libr—”
He slammed his palm on the desk. “Enough! Get out before I toss you from the estate entirely. I never should have let Lucien talk me into letting you come.”
“He is rather persuasive.”
His head turned toward her for the briefest moment, and his eyes—completely shadowed—met hers. “Get. Out.”
Ada inhaled slowly and counted to five in her head. “My lord, I am not someone you can order about. You are not my employer—Lucien is the one I am serving during my stay here. The sooner you accept that I’ve come to help, the better you will feel.” She went back to the desk and picked up the book she’d inadvertently almost caught on fire. “I’ll start with this. Good evening, Lord Warfield.”
He turned his head toward hers again, and because she was closer, she could actually make out part of his features beyond the shape of his chin. His nose was long and aquiline, and his brow wide, with a lock of blond hair falling across it. But it was the scar, rather scars, she glimpsed running over the left side of his face that caught her attention.
He snatched the book from her grasp and walked into the shadows, turning his back to her. “Go.”
Ada pivoted and returned to the library before finding her way to the Primrose Room.
This was going to be a very long fortnight.
Chapter2
Maximillian Hunt, the extremely reluctant Viscount Warfield, glowered at the lamp on his desk and fervently hoped it would soon cease reminding him of his unwelcome houseguest. Perhaps she would do as he’d said and leave today. Last night had been too late to depart, of course. Not even he was so beastly as to demand she venture out into the darkness.
But today was pleasant and plenty light enough. If she were smart, she’d leave as soon as she broke her fast.
At that precise moment, Mrs. Bundle came in bearing his breakfast tray, as she did every morning around this time. She brought the tray to his desk and removed the cover to reveal the usual plate: toast, eggs, kippers, and turnips.
“Where would you like to meet with Miss Treadway after breakfast?” she asked perfunctorily.
