“It would be good to meet Richard. Does this mean you are staying here?” he asked, adding jam to his toast. He hadn’t seen either of his other two sons since their infancy.
She stuck out her bottom lip in a frown. “I suppose I must, if you will not go to the city. I daresay Azmin and Phoebe can help run the school for a few weeks. Their university classes won’t start again until fall so they have a little spare time, although Azmin and Dare may wish to visit Norfolk before the nice weather ends, just to be certain his niece is completely cured. They will understand when they realize how important this is.”
She studied her stack of lists. “Do you really mean you can’t read these or that you won’t?”
“I’m sure my teachers told you I can’t read. Lydia says it’s an Ives family trait that springs up from time to time. I’m not trying to be difficult, although that’s what my teachers thought. It hasn’t stopped me from learning. As you so wisely pointed out, I work well with my hands. I learn from listening.” Max felt a little freer having said this.
Not wishing to disappoint his parents and hiding his failures had been one of the many reasons Max had left these shores. Now that he was a successful man—if a truly lousy son and father—he had the experience to admit to his imperfections. He helped himself to more toast.
“Well, I never. . .” His mother tapped her finger on her lists. “So you never wrote me because you couldn’t!” She brightened perceptibly. “All the more reason you should stay home now.” Then a cloud covered her expressive features again. “You have more sons besides Richard?”
Max almost chuckled. His mother’s mind was a twisty place. “Three all together,” he said before biting into his toast. It should be interesting to see how that went over.
“Three,” she murmured. “I have three grandsons! I don’t think I know anyone who has three. This is quite exciting. When might I meet them?”
Feeling almost giddy with relief that she wasn’t beating him over the head with a platter, Max nodded at the door. “Besides Richard, one is upstairs. The other. . . well, you can add him and his mother to your guest list, but I’ll not attend any party with women, and it would take them months to travel here, so Christmas it would have to be.”
Finally glaring at him, she rose from her chair. “I think I’ll find Lydia. She’s much more reasonable. And I want to meet my grandson, immediately.”
Carrying her short self like the grand dame she should be, Lady Agnes stalked out, leaving Max to muse over the managing madness of women as he chewed his bacon.
* * *
Lydia had been expecting Max when his mother flew through her office doorway instead, a vision of bouncing gray curls and bobbing earrings. Lydia touched the brooch she’d fixed to her new scarf in an attempt to look vaguely aristocratic—an armor she needed after last night.
Max’s kiss. . . She’d spent the night dreaming of his male scent, hard body, questing lips, wandering hands. . . and where they might have led. She’d woke up practically feverish with need.
But he’d shoved her away as if she were the enemy. She was quite certain he had been the one to initiate that kiss. . . But she’d obviously been too bold, like the women he despised. She’d been in way over her head and had done things. . . Her cheeks heated as she remembered caressing muscled buttocks. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t.
She had to treat him as nothing more than another guest or he’d flee into the night.
Lady Agnes blew all those concerns straight out of Lydia’s mind.
“I would like to see my grandson, please. I understand why you had to keep Max’s confidence, but now that he has revealed all, I won’t wait another minute.” She dropped a bundle of papers on the desk. “And here are the guest lists for both our families. Cross out those you don’t wish invited. I suppose you must consult with Max over his list since he refuses to read it. And yes, I now know he can’t read. Why on earth the boy—”
“He’s not a boy, my lady. He’s a grown man, a successful, wealthy one. The fact that he has done that with his disability shows what an amazing son you have.” Lydia stood and pulled the bell. “I’ll have one of the servants bring Bakari down when his lessons are done.”
“Bakari!” Lady Agnes settled in a chair and held a hand to her plump bosom. “Oh, I had not thought. . . Max’s children are foreign! Oh, my, this is rather exciting, isn’t it?”
Lydia bit back a grin. One never quite knew what road the lady’s mind would take. “Certainly interesting, one must admit. Is the other one Italian? Chinese? African? Do we dare ask? But for now, I must finish these letters so they can go into the village. Do you have enough to entertain yourself for a while?”
“Oh, yes, of course—the Malcolm Librarian is as busy as a duke. I shouldn’t intrude—”
“I’ve not proved myself to be the librarian,” Lydia said very, very gently.
“Well, of course you are! The testers will prove that when they arrive. I’ll be in the guest parlor, writing all this news in my journal, if you’ll have the boy sent to me. Thank you so much!” She rose, patted Lydia’s cheek, and pattered out again.
Lydia gulped. The testers? Mr. C’s journals had mentioned being tested. . .
She would fail. She’d never be more than an assistant. But until then, someone had to run the castle. She would have to keep up the pretense to hold off the trustees and Crawley until the real librarian was found.
Passing on the order about Bakari to the footman, Lydia was just adding the finishing flourish to Max’s letters when he strolled in. She flushed and pretended to continue writing until she’d calmed herself.
He looked like a hero just stepped out of a novel, a white knight without his steed. His broad shoulders strained at his tweed jacket, and she wished he wore hunting breeches so she could see more of his sturdy legs than the loose trousers revealed. He exuded so much confidence. . .
She could use that confidence right now. Hoping she didn’t look too dewy-eyed, she set down her pen and pushed the letters across the desk. “I used our best stationery with the gold borders so it appears businesslike. I’m wondering if I should order mourning paper for my own correspondence, but I hate the extra expense. Shall I read these to you before you sign them?” She was dithering. She shut up.
Undisturbed by her chatter, Max scrawled his signature across the bottom as she explained what each letter was. “I’d rather you straighten out my mixed-up head,” he said as he wrote. “I want to apologize for last night, but I’m truly not sorry. I treated you abominably, but dare I think you didn’t completely dislike what we did?”
Well, that was frank. Terrified she’d say the wrong thing, Lydia waved the paper to dry the ink and cool her cheeks. She began folding the sheets and placing them in the matching envelopes she’d already addressed before speaking. “I’m not sure how to answer that,” she admitted. “I’m not accustomed to speaking of such things.”
She’d behaved like a wanton, and he’d run away. But he hadn’t minded? It didn’t sound as if he had.
“Give it up, Lydia.” He pushed the rest of the signed letters across to her. “You’ve been reading our journals for years. I’m fairly certain our ancestors were more than blunt upon occasion. We’re human. Humans lust. And yes, I know I shouldn’t speak of such things with ladies, but I’m an uncivilized cad and my time here is likely to be short. Do you find me repulsive or attractive?”
She set her jaw and continued the task of stuffing envelopes. She pushed Mr. C’s red sealing wax across the desk for Max to use. “You know perfectly well that you are attractive to women. I am no exception, other than that I do not fling myself at you.” She didn’t think she had, at least.
He pressed his signet ring into the wax he’d affixed to the envelopes. “You are a genteel woman of refinement, mature enough to resist your urges, I surmise. Whereas I’m a heathen inclined to indulge my urges whenever opportunity offers. I’ve been learning to resist, but I usually end up fleeing the premises. I’ve no
t had to do that here because you offer me no encouragement, making it easier to stand firm. Sometimes. Last night was not one of them.”
Aware of the fantasy-wedding guest lists under her elbow, Lydia regarded him warily. “Where are you going with this?”
“I’m not sure.” He reached for the bell pull when he finished sealing the envelopes. “I’m actually wondering if we should heed my mother’s prescience or madness or whatever it is. Or at least talk about it.”
Beryl arrived, bobbing a curtsy and stealing sly glances at Max. He stepped behind the open door to put a barrier between them and let Lydia hand over the envelopes. Beryl pouted and tried to catch a glimpse behind the door, but Lydia pointed her out. With a sigh, the maid sashayed off.
Max closed the door, and Lydia stirred nervously under the intensity of his stare.
“Heed her prescience?” she asked weakly.
He took a seat in the worn leather chair by the unlit fire and crossed his ankle over his knee, drawing her awareness. She was no lady for noticing his muscular thighs.
“If Mother really does see the future and sees us married, maybe we should consider it now and not later. Even I know prescience can be affected by time and circumstances.”
Lydia had to drag her gaze back to Max’s broad, honest face before she could register his meaning. Her mouth fell open but nothing emerged. Clutching her pen, she tried to formulate a reply, but he’d left her spinning. “Married?”
“I know it’s sudden, but it does make a certain amount of sense,” he said, with an uncomfortable shrug. “We’re attracted to each other. We rub along reasonably well. You are a woman who can take care of herself, so you won’t mind when I disappear for extended periods of time. Unfortunately, I fear the only thing I can bring to the partnership is my ability to repair what’s broken, but given the size and age of this place, that’s not an inconsiderable factor. And I can hope. . .” He finally looked uncomfortable. “I can hope that we’ll develop a bond similar to other married couples that will make me less attractive to stray females?”
Despite a disconcerting lack of romance in this proposal, Lydia almost smiled. She shouldn’t be disappointed that practical Max thought in terms of partnerships and bonds instead of love. It was easier for her to respond honestly if he was being practical. “I thought animal magnetism meant the bonded female did not stray, not the male. I’m fairly certain I’m unlikely to stray. You are the one who becomes unsuitably involved.”
He scratched at his recently-shaven cheek. “Well, as we seem to have some kind of reverse polarity that I was hoping would reverse the bonding situation. Since I am violently attracted to you, perhaps bonding would make me less attracted to any other female?”
He was violently attracted to her? Lydia had to settle her nerves and fluttering butterflies all over again. The most handsome, attractive, intelligent, available male she’d ever met in her life—and he was attracted to a plain spinster like her? How could that be?
“I don’t think reverse polarity is working yet,” she said wryly, having observed Beryl’s behavior. “And I can’t imagine you’ll spend much time repairing this place if you’re away in jungles. And I suspect you’re simply flattering me in hopes I might offer a place to send your sons when they’re out of school.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward, sat up properly, then leaned forward. “I am an Ives. You should know by now that I need only ask one of a dozen titled wealthy cousins to add a cuckoo to his nest, and he will simply throw them in with the rest of the crowd. That’s what I’d originally intended to do with Bakari. As you have so kindly pointed out, we propagate. We provide for what we propagate. I would expect to do the same for any of my nephews or cousins if circumstances were different.”
He slumped again, but his gaze remained fixed on her. “In the spirit of honesty, the faithfulness factor and roaming jungles are valid concerns.”
Lydia swallowed hard under the intensity of his gaze. “I am only the librarian under false circumstances, in order to keep the castle operating. If someone who can actually hear the books arrives, I will have to turn over the task to them. They might want a different assistant, leaving me homeless. I am not necessarily the independent woman you require.”
“You are the librarian,” he insisted. “I saw you find those books I wanted. They were exactly what I needed to determine the problem.”
Flattery, she thought. But she yearned for him to be right.
Max continued. “But should you go blind, deaf, and dumb tomorrow, I can still provide a home for you. You need only ask.”
“You are serious?” she asked, finally realizing it. “You would marry me because your mother thinks it’s destined?”
“I’ll marry you because I want you in my bed,” he admitted with a laugh, his brown eyes dancing. “All the rest is speculation and wishful thinking. Except for the part where I find you attractive, intelligent, and a good companion, that counts as much as lust, I suppose. But I do understand you hold faithfulness dear, and I’ve never been faithful to anyone for a day in my life.”
“I. . . I don’t know what to say.” She pushed a stubborn curl behind her ear. “Of course, I’m interested, never think I’m not. You are a fascinating man. I’m just. . .”
“Cautious, unlike me, I understand. And while you have a sterling reputation, I do not, I understand that too. And someday, you might find a man willing to stay in one place. But I hope. . . I think. . . you understand me as well. That you know I’m sincere, and I would not ask you if I didn’t think I could make you happy. Somewhat happy, maybe. I’ll try to be what you need.”
Did she need a husband? Did she want a man who would never be around when she needed him? Apparently, this wasn’t about need. It was about desire. She’d never felt desire and probably would never find another man she desired more. A pit grew in her midsection. “I’ll take time to think on it,” she whispered.
“I’d love to give you all the time you require, but I fear my mother is a force of nature. Perhaps I should take residence under the tower until she gives up and goes home.” His smile was rueful.
“We can hold a reception and invite her guests without a wedding,” she reminded him. “There is no reason to make such a drastic decision in a few weeks.”
“We just have to keep our hands off each other,” he said cheerfully, standing up. “The tower it is, then.”
He walked off, leaving Lydia disturbed in so many ways that she couldn’t count them all.
Seventeen
Max wished for the company of some of his sensible engineering friends so he could ask if he was losing his mind or if he was just desperate. Marriage? He was actually considering marriage? Why on earth would he do that? He was the most unsuitable person on the entire planet for committing to one woman and one place.
But he wanted Lydia, and he wasn’t so mad as to expect he could have her without vows. And maybe, just a little, he’d like to know he had a home he could visit occasionally without being bombarded by tears and accusations. His few days here had been among the most restful of his peripatetic career, despite the tilting tower, which was an interesting engineering challenge and not emotional quicksand. Lydia appeared to accept him as he was, and he could avoid civilization all he liked merely by locking the tower door.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t change once she wore his ring and babies arrived, he reminded himself. Nesting women were an unreasonable lot, as he well knew.
Brooding, he climbed up to his chamber to change into his grubby work clothes. Bakari met him with excitement.
“My grandmother is here?” the boy asked, nearly bouncing. “May I meet her? I’ve never had a grandmother. She says she wants to meet me. Is she nice?”
Well, hell, that was to be expected. He’d never accomplish anything at this rate. “You’ve always had a grandmother. You just haven’t met her. She’s nice, which is why she wants to meet you. Just remember grandmothers are women, and they weep over silly things and
get funny notions in their heads. Be polite and respectful, and you’ll be fine.”
Bakari nodded uncertainly. “Will you take me to her?”
“Have you finished the reading I gave you?” Max asked, trying to play the part of stern father.
Bakari nodded. “Those were easy words. Mr. Lloyd says there is a library. May I look for other books?”
His six-year-old son could read, probably better than Max. Max tried not to be too grumpy about that. This responsibility business was hard. “We’ll ask Miss Lydia, shall we? Let’s go down and meet your grandmother.”
One more encounter with his mother, and he really might go quite mad. Then he’d probably elope with Lydia to places unknown. Pondering whether madness was infectious, Max took his son’s hand and traipsed back downstairs again.
Despite the summer sun outside, the castle was chilly. His mother was comfortably ensconced in a padded chair near a small fire, her feet up on an embroidered stool, her shawls wrapped around her. She almost looked frail and elderly, until she glanced up and her blue eyes sparked with excitement. “Oh, my, aren’t you a handsome one? You have your father’s curls!”
A knot of tension relaxed inside him as Max made the introductions. He hadn’t thought his mother would be given to bigotry, but he didn’t know her well.
“Did you know you have a big brother?” his mother asked as she wooed Bakari into her snare. “I am hoping he will visit us here in a day or two.”
His son’s eyes widened in wonder. Max winced.
“We don’t know that Richard will come,” he reminded her. “Why don’t I ask Lydia if she has books Bakari might read while you two become acquainted?”
His mother waved regally. “There is an entire nursery full of books and things on the third floor. I’m surprised you do not keep him there. You do have a tutor for him, do you not?”
“This isn’t a permanent situation, Mother. Bakari needs to be in school. I’d rather he was near me until then.” And he wasn’t about to move into the main portion of the house where chambermaids roamed.
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