Chapter Ten #2
“Indeed, before I can make up my mind.” The longer he stared at his valet, the more he couldn’t manage to tamp that thought down.
It was frightening in that he was rather more attached to Cate than he probably should be.
And the thought of having her in his life in some capacity after the translation was completed appealed to him.
But he couldn’t dawdle. “Travers, I’ve decided I’m going out this afternoon. ”
“Oh? Where?” Then a sly expression came over his face. “To the lending library?”
“Perhaps.” Heat rose up the back of his neck once again. “Or perhaps to the shops. I have gifts to procure, in any event, for Christmas, so I won’t know where I’m going until I arrive.”
But something needed to be done.
*
After popping into more than a few shops despite the rain and then realizing he’d chosen gifts for nearly everyone on his staff, his children, his mother, as well as something for Cate—would she even like a fan with Mother-of-Pearl spine and a pair of embroidered white silk stockings?
—he finally alighted from his carriage in front of the lending library off Fleet Street.
To his driver, he said, “If you’ll wait, I shouldn’t be more than an hour, if that.” He didn’t know if Cate would have time to talk with him. Not to mention this might be a stupid idea and make him look like a nodcock, but he couldn’t leave things up to chance.
Could he?
“Very well, Your Grace. I’ll just go to the nearest mews. The rain makes for a horrid afternoon. I’ll come back ’round in an hour.”
Barr nodded. “I agree. Stay as dry as you can.” Then he went up the pavement a few feet before going inside the circulating library.
It was quite a busy day with patrons everywhere. No doubt everyone was driven nearly mad from the rain and were desperate for new reading material, but he easily located Cate. For a bit, he contented himself with watching her as he pretended to peruse the shelves.
Was she always that lovely and composed?
Her brown hair caught in a low bun only served to call attention to her slender neck.
As she spoke quietly with a female patron, her eyes shone with the clear love she had for books, and her hands were animated as she drew the lady toward a shelf that no doubt held her recommendations.
Barr moved along the shelf so he could keep Cate in his sight.
Again today, she wore a simple dress in a navy hue.
How much better would she appear in bright colors and expensive fabrics?
He could almost imagine jewels winking at her throat and wrists.
Could he be the man that might provide all of that for her?
Would he? Was it something she would even entertain from him?
Not knowing, he crept away into the lounge, for it appeared she would be with the patron for some moments more.
Might as well order tea and wait for a better time when she might be free.
But before he could ask for a table, a footman, clearly in a hurry and carrying a loaded silver tray with the detritus of someone else’s repast, barreled around a corner and ran straight into him.
“Well, damn,” he said, for there was no time to say more or dodge out of the way.
Dishes crashed to the floor in a cacophony of sound.
Leftover tea splashed from an overturned pot to splatter all over the front of him.
Small bowls of jam and clotted cream upended onto his greatcoat and left sticky, wet streaks behind.
A piece of sponge cake stuck to his lapel while lumps of sugar fell upon his boots like icy snow.
“I am so sorry,” the footman said with eyes wide with fear as he reached for the cake and quickly whisked it onto the tray he remarkably still held onto.
“Don’t worry about it. Accidents happened.” But that was his favorite greatcoat, and now there was jam staining a portion of his superfine jacket beneath. Hot anger simmered just beneath the surface of his skin. Truly, the footman should have been paying more attention.
“Good heavens!” A woman from one of the back rooms of the lounge, presumably the kitchen, and she rushed over to him with a rag in hand. “Let me help, Your Grace.”
At least someone recognized him.
As the woman tried to dab at the mess decorating the front of him, he waved her away while the footman kneeled to put the scattered and broken pieces of crockery and china onto his tray. “Leave me be. I shall take care of it.” As he spoke, he scrubbed the worst of the mess with his handkerchief.
Then none of it mattered, for Cate came into the room. She gazed at him with rounded eyes and amusement in her expression.
“My goodness, what a picture you make, Scarborough.”
“I imagine I do.” He offered her what felt like a goofy grin. “I’d hoped to take tea and perhaps ask you to join me, but I caused a scene instead.”
“It was clearly my fault,” the footman said as he rose to his feet, clutching the tray with shaking hands. “I will pay for a new coat if you wish it, Your Grace.”
That was almost laughable, for no doubt the greatcoat cost as much as what the poor fellow made in an annual salary, but he took pity on the young man. “There is no need for that. My housekeeper and laundress can perform miracles upon occasion. I’m certain it will be as right as rain before long.”
He hoped. In the grand scheme of things, it was only an outer garment. There were far more important subjects to worry over.
Cate laid a hand briefly on his sleeve, and his attention was completely distracted by her presence.
“You poor thing,” she said beneath her breath.
“Come with me.” To the woman standing ineffectually with the stained rag in her hand, she asked, “Could you see that His Grace is given a tea tray? I’m sure it will set his mind at ease to have a cuppa. ”
“Of course, Miss Pickwick.”
As the woman quickly walked back to the kitchen, Cate led him to a table near a window. She ushered him into a chair so that his back faced the bulk of the room, perhaps to shield him from curious eyes and whispers behind hands.
“You have quite the knack for making an entrance.” Once she drew a lace-edged handkerchief from her reticule, she helped him clean his coat as best she could.
Then she slipped into the chair across the small table from him.
“I have but a half hour for a break, but I’ll happily join you and keep you company while you take tea. ”
“I would appreciate that.” Just being in her presence and having the faint floral scent of her teased his nose made him feel more relaxed than he had in a long while.
Of course, because she was so close, and her touch as she scrubbed at his clothing sent interest shivering into his shaft.
It was pure insanity how much—and how often—he wanted her, but there was nothing for it.
“At this point, I’ll take whatever time you’ll give me, however you’ll concede it. ”
She sat back with her gaze resting on his face as she folded her handkerchief. “If you are hoping to use flattery on me, it won’t work.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t help but frown. “Why not?” Truly, the world of trying to woo a woman was damned confusing at times.
“Because I already look forward to seeing you.”
When she smiled, his world tilted, and he forgot all about the sticky patch on one cuff of his coat and how his jacket smelled like raspberry. Did that mean he well on his way to being tip over tail for her? That remained to be seen, but life was certainly better when she was there.
“Ah, that is lovely to hear.”
Cate nodded. “Also, I’m anxious to return to my translation work, so if you could stretch out your tea for a bit and then perhaps browse about for another hour, you could escort me back to your townhouse. Unless, of course, you’d rather put off the work until tomorrow?”
“Since I’m anxious to know how the book ends, I shall do whatever it takes to wait for you.” Both to finish her shift at the lending library and for whatever else she needed.
God, what a nodcock I’m turning into.
“Excellent.” She patted his hand and then tucked her handkerchief into her reticule as a different footman from before brought out tea on a tray. “If all goes well, I might have the translation finished by Christmas.”
And then what? Would their association come to an end? The lovely peace he’d found from sitting down with her fled in the face of panic and cold worry.
What the devil am I going to do?