The door handle clicked and he stilled. Shrouded in the dark of the room, he peered at the entrance. A frown formed on his lips as the tart-mouthed, insolent Mrs. Munroe slipped into the room. He should excuse himself. At the very least, he should announce himself. Instead, he remained immobile and took in the companion sent from Mrs. Belden as she stole a quick glance about the library. Then, she closed the door behind her and stopped. With the moon’s pale glow, he studied her. She caught her too-full lower lip between her teeth as though warring with herself over the decision to remain, but with a slight shake of her head, moved to the long row of shelving.
The amber contents of his glass forgotten, he continued to study the woman who, even after his dismissal, had challenged her way into staying in his home. She trailed the tips of her fingers over the leather volumes and paused on a black book. Gabriel squinted but the title was lost to the darkness of the room. Interest stirred as the young woman hesitated, tugged a book free, and then opened it. Head bent, with her attention fixed upon the tome, he used the opportunity to study her. What did one such as Mrs. Munroe read? And who was she? Stammering, fearful miss? Or bold-spirited, insolent minx?
With deliberate movements, he took a slow sip of his drink. All the while, the woman with her nose buried in the pages continued reading, unaware of his presence. For if she were, she’d have likely fled long ago. He’d wager she favored books about propriety and decorum and all things proper. After all, what else interested a woman who served as a stern instructor at an esteemed finishing school? On the heel of that was another question: How did a woman enter into such a position?
“Good evening, Mrs. Munroe.” He found an inordinate amount of enjoyment in her startled shriek. She flung her arms up and the volume sailed from her fingertips and landed at her feet.
“Ouch.”
Or more precisely on her feet.
He set his snifter down on the side table and stood. Despite the darkened room, crimson blazed upon Mrs. Munroe’s pale cheeks. He resisted the urge to smile as she hopped up and down on the uninjured toes in a move that was not at all proper and certainly not fitting behavior of one of Mrs. Belden’s distinguished instructors.
The lady chose that inopportune moment to glance at him. She narrowed her eyes. “Do you find enjoyment in another person’s pain?” she snapped.
Her words swiftly killed any of his earlier humor. A man who still bore the scars upon his back, he could never delight in another’s pain. “Forgive me. It was not my intention to laugh at you.”
“What was your intention, then?” she challenged. He gave his head a wry shake. Spiritless, indeed. “I was struck by the honesty of your reaction.”
The lady could have, and likely should have, taken those words as an insult. She peered at his face a long while and then shocked him with her slow nod. “I thought I was alone.” Ah there, the faint accusatory edge, words that danced around a reproach, but remained just shy of an insult.
Yes, pairing this one with Chloe would be dangerous for all manner of reasons. Fortunately, he’d wager all his holdings when presented with the option of retaining one of Mrs. Belden’s dragons or being spared a companion, if even temporarily, she’d choose the latter.
Poor Mrs. Munroe did not have a hope. As one who’d ceased believing in hope long ago, he recognized as much. The bespectacled miss, however, clearly still retained that useless sentiment. “Are you enjoying your stay, Mrs. Munroe?” Your very brief stay. He’d delight in packing this one up in a carriage, any carriage, closing the door, and having her ride off to Mrs. Belden’s where she belonged.
The color deepened on her cheeks. “Joseph indicated I might visit the library. I…” Her words trailed off. “Forgive me. I will take my leave.” She turned to go.
“Mrs. Munroe?” The quietly spoken words halted her retreat. She stiffened and turned back.
“My lord?” She darted the tip of her tongue out and traced the seam of her bow-shaped lips.
He followed that innocent, yet maddeningly erotic gesture. An agonized groan built in his chest. God help him, he was noticing plain, drab-skirt-wearing Mrs. Munroe.