Chapter 4
Elijah had escaped her notice for several moments, affording him the luxury of taking in her appearance without giving her the same opportunity.
His grandfather had always stood by his claim that a true person could only be witnessed when they weren’t aware they were being watched.
That was certainly true of Miss Samantha—he’d noticed her smile, but the coy upturn of her lips hadn’t only been bestowed upon him.
No, her mouth had had that enthralling smile when he’d walked into the room—her eyes closed tightly.
It was the reason he hadn’t announced his presence sooner.
They’d shared a secret, however brief the moment had been.
“…I was invited by Lord Cartwright to join him after I settled in.” Eli removed his stare from the book previously in her lap, which was now clenched to her chest—pushing her breasts higher.
It was highly improper to notice a woman’s attributes—and utterly unsuitable to dwell on them while conversation came to a halt.
“I can see he is not here, so I will bid you good evening.”
Eli nodded, forcing his gaze to her face, but it was more captivating than the sight of her bosom straining against the material of her gown.
He should turn away now, flee the room and return to his chambers—or better still, depart the house altogether and allow the falling rain to chill his rising temperature.
Every instinct told him to leave—but something deep within urged him to stay.
“The men departed over an hour ago, my lord.” Sam’s breathy words made her voice raspier than normal—not that he was aware what was normal for her. “I believe if you hurry, they may be in the billiard’s room.”
He’d explored a bit of the main floor after he’d descended the stairs. There was no one about, and he’d feared he’d taken too long with his meal and assisting Mathers with his unpacking.
“I will leave you to your evening.” Elijah gave Sam a curt bow before turning to depart.
“My lord?” He halted mid-step. “You were not at dinner. Is everything as it should be?”
She’d noticed his absence? Eli wanted to close his eyes, and burn this moment into his memory—to appreciate it later.
It had been years since anyone had worried thus.
His grandfather had taken a parental step back after Eli left for Eton, his grandson on his way to becoming a man and not in need of a nursemaid.
It had escaped Elijah how much he missed having another person think of him, ask after his well-being, and notice when he was not about.
Eli slowly turned back toward Samantha, noting she’d slipped the book behind her and settled her hands in her lap.
“It was a long journey.” Elijah would not comment on his hesitancy to be surrounded by so many strangers—each seeking to know him and where he’d come from, the only guest unknown to everyone in residence.
But that was not completely accurate. He’d made Miss Samantha’s acquaintance, however briefly.
“I took my meal in my room.” He glanced to the floor in contrition—unsure why he sensed his absence had displeased her.
She’d brushed her long locks and tied them back with a green ribbon that matched the sash of her gown—and highlighted her auburn hair.
The glow from the hearth behind her illuminated her long tresses.
He could almost envision her in a nightshift, sitting before the warmth of a fire and reading a tale of adventure.
Maybe even a story similar to the adventures his grandfather had taken him on.
Would she sit, rapt, as he recounted his tales of their exploits?
“What were you reading?” He strode farther into the room, uncertain why he wished to stay and learn more of Miss Samantha. It wasn’t decent to be in a room alone—after dark—with a woman one was not wedded to; still, he could not resist the need to be close to her. “May I see it?”
She stood quickly, holding the book behind her back. “I…well…I was about to depart for my room.”
“I will not keep you, then,” he said, moving to a shelf, appearing to inspect the row of books. He hadn’t any intention of selecting one, but her interest alone was enough to have him seriously scrutinizing the titles.
“I was only seeking a book to keep me occupied while here.” She glanced over her shoulder to a corner shelf. “But I found something interesting.”
She made to slip past him, but he spoke before she could depart. “Since you are vaguely familiar with Cummings’ study, might you offer any suggestions for a book for me?”
He would not dwell on her reasons for being in Cummings’ private study looking for a book and not the library.
She turned slowly, careful to keep her book hidden from sight. His interests were piqued. And the resulting curiosity was hard to hide.
“What type of story do you find to your liking, my lord?” Her voice trembled. “While I am not overly familiar with Lord Cummings’ collection, many are organized in a similar fashion.”
“You assume I enjoy stories of flights of fancy and tales of fiction?” He raised his brow in question, hoping she’d take to the conversation and remain. When he found the time to read for pleasure, he almost always secured a tale of exploration and adventure.
He kept his focus on the shelf closest to him, avoiding her wide-eyed stare and the corner he’d caught her inspecting moments ago.
“However, I do enjoy tales of adventurers, pirates, and even the occasional spy.” He ran his hand along the books on the shelf, spotting several authors he’d never heard of.
Even with his grandfather’s impressive collection of books, there were still writers who’d escaped his notice.
“Tell me, Miss Samantha, if you were to select a book—which I see you have—what would it be about?”
Eli turned to her then. Her face had turned scarlet, and her eyes did not exactly meet his, instead focusing on his shoulder.
Surely, the woman was hiding something—and he intended to find out what.
Sam tightened her hold on the book behind her back as her face flared red, no doubt. Thankfully, the flames in the hearth had diminished enough to hide her blush. Had he seen the book in her lap before she was aware of his presence?
For his indecorous scrutiny of her, Sam should show him exactly what she was reading before he’d interrupted her thoughts—he needn’t know her musings swarmed around his naked form: the curve of his back, the width of his shoulders, the tight, corded muscles his trousers hid, and the firm roundness of his posterior.
Even his dimple, hidden if not for his smile.
Thoughts a proper young miss shouldn’t be pondering alone in a stranger’s study where anyone could stumble upon her.
All of Sam screamed she was glad it was Lord Ridgefeld who’d interrupted her highly inappropriate meanderings.
She—and her siblings—had never been proper misses.
Raised within the walls of a rumored bordello, the Craven House women had been plagued by scandal and ruin since long before their mother’s passing.
Part of her enjoyed that Lord Ridgefeld knew nothing of her family and her upbringing, especially her unfortunate bastard birth.
These new rumors hadn’t taken hold of every London ballroom as yet, and Marce desperately hoped each of her sisters would secure a husband before old gossip came back to haunt them—and make favorable matches impossible.
He awaited her response.
Though she didn’t know how to answer. Should she be honest and show him what she’d come for? There was little chance they’d meet again after departing Derbyshire for their respective homes.
Would he take her for an indecent woman? Would he seek out Lord Cartwright or Lord Cummings to reveal her wicked secret? Would he call attention to her lewd interests?
All things any gentleman had a right to do, but she feared none of these.
“I think I would favor a story with passion,” she confided, testing his reaction and saying the word aloud for the first time. It rolled off her tongue like any other, yet it sent a shiver of anticipation through her. “…and adventure.”
She risked a glance in his direction. He was still inspecting the shelf, but his back had stiffened and his gaze lingered on a single book.
“Passion and adventure are tightly woven in many stories—for isn’t passion an adventure in and of itself?
” His slow inspection resumed, and he moved to the next area.
Thankfully, he was on the complete opposite side of the room from In Physica Educationem in Caritate, and his book selection would hopefully be fulfilled long before he rounded the room and found Cummings’ intensely private collection.
“And no adventure is complete without the fulfillment of passion—whether it be desire for treasure or the touch of skin to skin.”
He glanced over his shoulder, and Sam averted her eyes once more. He could not possibly know of Cummings’ risqué novellas, nor that she’d located them and held the first volume to her back. Was she bold enough to show him?
“Do you think a book can capture both passion for treasure and the touch of skin, my lord?” Sam turned and paced to stand before the fire, needing what little warmth it gave to keep her trembling at bay, though it wasn’t the cold evening draft that sent waves through her.
The heat soaked deep through her gown, warming her backside, similar to the way Lord Ridgefeld’s intense stare sent warmth cascading down the front of her.
“I consider education a treasure no person should shy away from.”
She’d sensed his gaze upon her as she moved across the room, likely assessing her question. “I suppose it depends greatly on the subject of the education garnered within the book.”