Chapter Five
Barr woke late that morning, and only because his valet eventually woke him at half past ten. Even still, vestiges of exhaustion clung to him as well as his mind.
After relieving himself and conducting morning ablutions, he submitted to Travers’ ministrations for the toilette of the day while drinking his customary cup of strong coffee.
“The butler mentioned that you had in a lady yesterday to translate that book you found in the attics,” Travers said in a conversational tone. “Will she be able to help?”
“That remains to be seen; she has barely started, and from what I understand, it could prove an involved process. She didn’t have all the reference books she needed with her yesterday since she merely wished to study the book.
” Above everything, Barr strove to ignore the heat sneaking up the back of his neck and in his chest, for he and Miss Pickwick had done far more than studying a book yesterday.
“I assume she will return today?” The valet handed him a pair of buff-colored breeches.
“Yes, around one o’clock.” He avoided meeting Travers’ gaze while fussing with the breeches. “It should be interesting what we discover as she goes through the text.”
“Indeed.” Without further comment, the valet held out a fine lawn shirt.
When Barr snatched it from his hand and began the task of tugging it over his head and then smoothing it over his torso, the wretched man spoke again.
“One of the maids passing in the corridor said she heard whispers and excitable sounds coming from the room, but when she peeked inside, there was no one there.”
“That is quite odd.” Taking refuge in his coffee, Barr again refused to meet his friend’s gaze.
Damn, he should have closed the library door yesterday, but everything had happened so fast and had gotten out of control so quickly, he’d not thought about it.
Thank goodness for the high back of the sofa that had hidden them both from view, though. “Perhaps the townhouse is haunted.”
“Suddenly haunted? After all this time of living here?” Clearly, his valet wasn’t convinced. He held up a waistcoat of dark green satin.
“Who can say?” After he finished the contents of his cup, Barr set it on a nearby table then allowed Travers to fit the waistcoat to his torso, huffing when the laces were slightly tightened.
“Would you like to hear my theory?”
God, no.
But he said, “Does it matter? You’ll tell me anyway.” And he could almost wager what he would say.
Unfortunately, Travers dragged out the anticipation by fitting Barr with the cuffs and collar then fussed with his cravat, twisting and manipulating the length of silk into the particular knot he wanted. Then and only then did the other man speak.
“I think that after you met Miss Pickwick, who is quite a handsome woman and from all accounts, intelligent, an intense connection has formed between you. When she was supposed to be studying the ancient book, you lost your damned mind by using that opportunity to study her body. And those sounds were utterances of her pleasure.” When the valet leveled a knowing look onto Barr’s face, heat again sneaked up the back of his neck. “Is my guess remotely true?”
Bloody, bloody hell.
“This is what happens when my staff have been with me for years and know me far too well,” he groused but couldn’t help but offer a slight grin.
“Then my hunch is correct?”
“Yes.” After all, what else was there to say?
Travers’ eyes widened. “I thought you might prove repressed in that regard, but the first day you have a woman into your home, hired out to translate a book for you?” He shook his head. “You lose your bloody mind and claim her right there in your library?”
“Do shut up.” Apparently, he would burn to death today. “It wasn’t planned. Just happened. I don’t know how or why. And also, I didn’t couple with her. I just, uh…” Barr tugged at his newly tied cravat knot. “I, um, brought her to release with my fingers.”
The valet hooted with laughter. “Someone was desperate, and I’ll wager it wasn’t her.”
“Yes, well…” Yet Barr couldn’t help his grin. “What’s done is done, but it can’t happen again.”
“What a bummer. Did you fuck her?”
“No, of course not. That bit of insanity was enough.” But Catherine had been quite responsive. Even remembering it now made him semi-hard.
“Then it’s not over and it will happen again.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I know you’re a man.” Travers shrugged. “Whatever is between you will continue to snap and crackle until the deed is done.” When Barr didn’t answer, the valet went on, “What will you do now?”
“Act with decorum, of course. I’ve hired her to translate the book, not attend to my random, physical urges.” Truly, what had happened yesterday had been an aberration and couldn’t occur again.
“And while she’s ensconced in your library doing just that? Where will you be?”
“That is difficult to say.” Slowly, Barr slipped his arms into the rust-colored jacket Travers held out for him. “Work on the renovations.”
“Coward.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Instead, you could ask her to spend time with you beyond the renovations and translations during the holiday season. She can help decorate a few rooms.”
“I don’t know if she would be interested.”
“That is why you use your manners and your charm to ask, Your Grace.” Travers shook his head. “You aren’t a novice at this.”
“Ha. In her company, I suddenly feel that way.” For far too long he had been out of practice in such things.
“Then stop thinking. Do what feels right or natural—without hiding—and see what happens.” The valet nodded with encouragement.
“Events in London during this time of year are sparse, most people are in the country, the weather is dreary, but the fires are lovely, and my wife has promised to do her best with meals should you wish to invite Miss Pickwick to dinner. To say nothing of taking her out to gather greenery should the weather actually break.”
Oh, God.
Things were moving far too fast, and he’d acted like a sex-deprived arse yesterday, despite her being willing. Yet Travers expected an answer. After clearing his throat, Barr nodded. “I will be sure to ask her at least one of the days.”
The valet’s grin widened. “Do you promise?”
“Why do you care?”
“Just this. You’ve been a friend to me for years. I remember how happy you were with Her Grace and how devastated you were when she died.” A sigh escaped Travers’ throat. “You deserve to be happy again.”
For long moments, Barr frowned as he thought over the words. “But—”
“Look, I’m not asking that you wed the woman. Simply enjoy her companionship, and if interesting things occur between you, where is the harm? It’s Christmastide. Men shouldn’t be alone.”
Damn. He couldn’t fault the valet for his advice. “I’ll take your words into account. Meanwhile, instead of this jacket, I’d like the gray tweed today…”
*
Three hours into Catherine’s stint into working on the translation, there was finally a break in the rain.
Barr had kept himself occupied in the drawing room, finishing the renovation, then he’d spent an hour re-papering the downstairs parlor, doing as much of that room as he could before he realized he didn’t wish to remain a hostage to the foul weather.
By the time he returned to the library, she was enjoying tea, and suddenly he found himself famished.
“Ah, if you are quite finished hiding, you are more than welcome to join me,” Cate said, as her eyes lit, and she greeted him with a soft smile.
“As much as I would like that, I wondered instead if you’d like to go on a drive since it’s not raining.”
“Oh!” Surprise jumped into her expression. “Why? I’m supposed to be working on this translation.” She gestured with her free hand to the book that sat open with a notebook on the other side of the table from the tea service.
“Fair enough.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I thought you might wish to get out. Obviously, everything will be too damp and wet for walking, but going on a drive might chase away any restlessness we might have.”
For long moments, she watched him from over the rim of her teacup as she took a few sips. Then she nodded. “Very well. I could stand to rest my eyes, in any event. Some of the words in the book are difficult to discern due to ink smears or fading or water damage.”
“I can just imagine, but I’m glad to give you an excuse.” Knots formed in his belly. Why the hell was he so nervous? It wasn’t as if he were a green boy.
So ridiculous.
A half hour later saw them in his closed carriage and well underway, but the streets of May were crowded, for it seemed other people had the same idea to make the best use of an afternoon without the rain.
Barr didn’t mind, for they chatted about favorite places in Mayfair and London, as well as favorite exhibits at the British Museum.
“Oh, that’s a difficult question. There are far too many exhibits there I like, and for different reasons. I adore that place.” Cate’s eyes twinkled and he vowed he would take her there soon, to break up the monotony of translation.
“One of my favorite galleries is the Egyptian one as well as the Roman one.”
She nodded. “My father enjoys that too. He often visits. One of his goals in life is to have something to donate for said exhibit.”
“I hope he does, for I look forward to viewing it.”
The time passed easily, for conversing with her was interesting and compelling with no awkward silences. At some point while stuck in traffic near Hyde Park, awareness shivered over him from the way she looked at him across the narrow aisle.
“Why do you stare at me like that?”
“Like what?” She was quite a cheeky woman.
“As if you wish to gobble me up.” Was that crossing a line to say?
“Hmm.” Cate shrugged and then winked as she removed her bonnet and gloves. “Perhaps I do, and I should treat you to the same as you did me yesterday, hmm? It’s only polite.”
“What?”