Page 5 of Impossible
Max stalked into the library and immediately caught sight of a blue skirt swaying far above eye level on the other side of the room. His unwelcome guest teetered on one of the very old, very rickety ladders used to access the books on the highest shelves. They were in need of replacement or repair, but he never used them.
“Oh!”
The rung on which she perched gave out. Max dropped his coffee cup and sprinted across the library, catching his thigh on a piece of furniture in his haste. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t slow. She dangled from the ladder by one hand, her feet swinging as she sought purchase.
“Help!” The plea leapt from her lips as she lost her grip and fell.
Strong arms caught Ada, and she gasped. Her rescuer grunted, his arms holding her tightly against his hard, broad chest.
She looked up into his face, seeing it for the first time in the light of day. His handsome, chiseled, and terribly scarred face. Framed with too-long but neatly combed blond hair. The night before, it had been untidy, falling across his forehead in a rather dashing manner.
“Thank you,” she managed, sounding rather breathless.
He narrowed his hazel eyes at her. They were more green at the center, becoming increasingly brown toward the outside. “You’re quite a little fool, aren’t you?”
“I’m not the one who allowed the ladder in my library to fall into disrepair.”
Satisfaction glimmered in his gaze. “You recognized its failure was imminent, yet chose to climb it anyway?”
“That’s not at all what I said. I recognized itsimminent failurewhen it was too late to climb down. My goodness, but you are incredibly disagreeable. I thought I was prepared for your boorishness, but I can see I underestimated your lack of amiability. It isn’t just lacking; it’s nonexistent.”
He released her with a grunt, ensuring her feet had found the floor before he stepped back. “Then we are well suited, for I must say you suffer from a severe paucity of charm.”
She gaped at him, wounded to the quick. “Everyone finds me charming, or at least amenable and pleasant to be around. You bring out the worst in me, clearly.”
“It’s one of my finest skills.”
Was he bragging about his ability to provoke others’ worst natures? Who would do such a thing? “Is that your intent? To make everyone else as miserable as you are?”
His features shuttered, making his expression completely inscrutable. “That would be impossible.”
“Then you admit you’re miserable.” That was a start at least. But a start to what? Did she really think she’d be able to cure whatever ailed him during her fortnight here? What if it wasn’t a curable ailment? Just because he’d been vastly different—according to both Lucien, who’d known him very well, and Prudence’s mother, who’d known the viscount’s father well—before he’d gone to war didn’t mean he could go back to being that way. Perhaps he was permanently damaged.
No, Ada refused to think that. Everyone could come back from the abyss. She had.
His jaw worked, as though he clenched his teeth. “I admitted nothing. You are an insulting chit.”
“I’m insulting?” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a benign smile. “You’re only trying to provoke me to leave. Don’t bother. I’m here to complete my task.” She narrowed one eye. “What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” he snapped. “I simply want to be left alone. You’re intruding on my privacy.”
“Heaven forbid! I am more than happy to leave you alone. I require your ledgers, not you. I’ll write up any questions I have, and you can respond in writing. We needn’t even see each other again.” Except then she couldn’t try to coax forth the kinder, more pleasant gentleman buried beneath the beast before her. Assuming that gentleman could be found.
He seemed to mull what she offered, his lips pressing together, and his gaze focused beyond her.
She didn’t believe him about not being afraid. Something was keeping him locked inside his misery. What was preventing him from being the man he once was? And how was she to determine answers without spending time with him? Bother!
She’d see what Mrs. Bundle would reveal. Or other retainers, perhaps. Not Timothy, obviously, since he barely spoke. There had to be a maid. Didn’t there? Not that Ada had seen one yet. There most definitely was a cook. Dinner and breakfast had been delicious, and Ada doubted Mrs. Bundle could accomplish the feat of preparing both while attending to her other duties. Especially if there wasn’t a maid. Goodness, what if Mrs. Bundle made all the beds and laid the fires and cleaned and did the laundry and…Ada was suddenly feeling exhausted.
No, there had to be other retainers. Surely there were groomsmen in the stables. Unless Warfield didn’t have any livestock. How could that be? Except, he never went anywhere, so it was entirely possible. Did he expect Mrs. Bundle to venture out to purchase things for the household without a cart at least? Perhaps someone from the village delivered what they required. Including the delicious pheasant that she’d devoured the night before? There must be a gamekeeper. Yes, there had to be people she could speak to about his lordship so she could fully conduct her investigation.
Aninvestigation. That was precisely what was required. There were far too many questions about the viscount, his household, and his estate. Reviewing the ledgers would likely only prompt more questions.
She realized the beast was staring at her, his hazel eyes focused squarely on her face. She wondered what had caused the scars on his cheek and temple.
“Are you finished?” he asked.
Ada blinked at him. “With what?” He couldn’t be asking about her investigation. She’d only just decided that was what she must do. And she certainly wasn’t going to tellhimher plan.
