Chapter 3
One week down, and three weeks left with Miss Muffet.
Anton entered the upstairs sitting room and sighed.
It seemed too convenient to find Terrance, Gunther, and Mary on the balcony sipping lemonade at the exact time he needed to speak with them.
Time to assess the situation and boost everyone’s morale.
He stepped closer, realizing they were already speaking about Miss Muffet.
“I tried to convince her to come with me the milliner’s, but Miss Muffet informed me she does not wear ribbons—not even on her bonnets.” Mary’s brow cinched together. “Who does not wear ribbons?”
“I’ve never thought they complimented my complexion,” Gunther said.
Terrance shook his head. “A shame. Ribbons might improve your appearance.”
Mary gave them both a quelling look. “The point is, she turns down all my invitations.”
Anton sank into a seat around the small table, and Mary poured him a glass of lemonade. “Surely, she must like one of us,” he said. “We can’t be that bad.”
Terrance lifted his glass. “I did my best to befriend her when we met at Rosewood Park, remember? She has to want friends for any of our efforts to make a difference.”
“Why is anyone worried?” Gunther asked. “The woman is content to stay in her room. I say, let her have her peace.”
Anton shrugged. “I know she is a different sort of woman, but when have any of us shied from a challenge?” Anton took his role of hosting seriously, but he didn’t want to be the lone entertainer.
Gunther’s eyebrows danced. “A handsome, single earl like yourself shouldn’t have any problems luring a girl from her room.”
Anton recalled the spark of life Miss Muffet showed in the library the day she had arrived.
Despite her soft voice, she had offered her opinions quite decisively.
He’d been intrigued—not that he would admit that to anyone—and almost felt a sort of connection.
Maybe a connection was a bit of a stretch, but no one else discussed literature with him.
Her neck, on the other hand, he could not deny was fine indeed.
He coughed into his hand. Regardless of his ridiculous thoughts, no one else seemed to be making any progress.
He downed his lemonade. “Challenge accepted.”
Gunther’s eyes widened. “You were supposed to throw it back in my face. I don’t want my best friend saddled with a hermit. She is not your equal in disposition.”
“I’m not agreeing to marry her.” The very idea made him laugh. “But I might be able to lure her from her room.” Drat. The burden of earning the lady’s regard was going to have to fall to him once more.
“Phew,” Terrance said, from across the table. “We were worried about you for a moment.”
“Everyone deserves a friend,” he said.
Mary smiled at him. “I most heartily agree.”
Anton pushed his seat back and stood. “No better time than the present, I suppose.” He saluted the others and went to the library.
He sifted through several titles before settling on the right one.
Pulling the book from the shelf, he went to find Miss Muffet.
He turned around and almost laughed at himself.
There she was, sitting in the corner of the library on the little tuffet he often used as a footrest, her head buried in a book.
Her mousy brown hair was unusually thick with frizzy curls heavy in front to hide her face.
He could not see her spectacles from this angle, but he noticed earlier that they were tinted and like a mask of glass, obscuring the color of her eyes.
She was petite and almost childlike—especially when sitting on a stool.
Stepping closer, he accidentally spooked her, and she jumped from her position.
Her book flew to the ground, and she backed up tight against the bookshelf.
Anton’s mouth dropped. Her spectacles were missing, and her eyes were large and doe-like.
Her lashes, curled and profuse, framed two mesmerizing pools of blue.
They say the eyes are windows to the soul, and for a moment, Anton felt like he was staring into hers.
“Uh, er . . .” Anton was at a loss for words. This was a normal occurrence for him when facing a beautiful woman—just not one he expected to encounter with Miss Muffet.
“You startled me,” she breathed.
Anton focused on her unflattering hair. “Forgive me. I stumbled upon a book I thought might interest you, but it seems you have found another.”
Miss Muffet didn’t smile, but she did relax her shoulders. “It’s Gulliver’s Travels.”
Anton bent over and picked up the book. “So it is. How do you like it?”
“I like it very much. Might I ask what book you wanted to recommend?”
Anton held out Gulliver’s Travels and the one he selected. “Lyrical Ballads—the most recent edition. Have you read it?”
“No, I am afraid my father keeps a small library.” She eyed the book with eagerness.
“Please, take it. I particularly thought of “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Coleridge. I hoped that if you liked poems with biblical symbolism, then this might appeal to you. There are other poems of worth in there as well.”
She took both the books and pulled them to her chest. “Thank you.”
Anton stared at her eyes again for a moment. He had her attention, so it seemed silly to let her escape back into a book. This was his chance to get to know her better and help her feel at ease at Banbury Castle.
“Do you play chess?”
She batted her long eyelashes and whispered, “A little.”
“Good. You must play opposite me.” His expression turned teasing. “It’s practically your duty as a houseguest.”
“Very well.” She did not seem thrilled with the idea, but when he waved her toward the small rectangular table under the window, she followed.
Once they were seated, Anton urged Miss Muffet to make the first move. After several quick turns, assuring they were well into the game, Anton asked, “I, uh, noticed you are not wearing your spectacles. You must not need them to see the game pieces.”
Miss Muffet cheek’s flushed. “Oh, yes, I can see the game well enough. I did not realize I had forgotten to put them on.”
“You must have fairly good eyesight. I assumed you were dependent upon them.”
Miss Muffet didn’t answer him but acted as if her next move required her utmost attention. He switched to a new line of questions. “What other sorts of pastimes do you enjoy outside of reading?”
She lifted her large eyes to meet his for less than a breath. “I like chess.”
He couldn’t help himself; he grinned. “I’m glad. You are good too. We might have to make this a regular activity while you are at Banbury.”
“I . . . I should like that.”
So, chess and books—two things he loved as well. “What else do you enjoy?”
Miss Muffet looked at the window and then once more at him. “Junket pudding.”
She said it so quietly, he almost missed it.
“Ah, so you have a sweet tooth.” Her lips twitched, and she nearly smiled, he was sure of it.
It might take a few more chess sessions, but he was determined to crack her.
“I, too, love curds and whey. Is it a family favorite? Or, should I not ask about your family? It must be hard for you to be parted from them.”
“You ask a great deal of questions, Lord Crawford.”
For such a shy person, she delivered her quip without any sort of hesitation. He chuckled. “Why not ask me a question then? Anything, anything at all.”
Miss Muffet wrinkled her petite nose as she thought. After a long moment, she whispered her question. “What do you enjoy?”
“This,” Anton said, surprising both of them. After a moment he added, “Does that count?”
“What else?”
“I like spending time with my family, my dog, or my books. I’m not the most exciting person, I daresay.”
“How long have you been the earl?” She asked the question so quickly; it was clearly not a thought-over question. He was glad she was letting down her guard.
“Two years. My father passed very suddenly, and sometimes I forget he is gone. I enjoy walking in his footsteps, but I am not nearly as dignified. Of course, he did not have my brother and Mr. Gunther as his closest friends. I am obligated to harass them in very childish ways, when the situation calls for it.”
The corner of her mouth pulled up into a half-smile.
He wanted to cheer! An almost-smile. Not bad for someone who was generally too serious himself and usually stumbled all over himself when in the company of a lady. However, this was altogether different since this was only Miss Muffet.
“Any more questions?”
Miss Muffet scrutinized him for a moment. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Being so kind to me.”
Anton couldn’t explain how his mother expected it, and everyone else in the house was far too involved in their own lives.
Besides, no one else would likely understand the creature in front of him anyway.
He had barely scratched the surface himself.
“There is nothing wrong with being nice. Unless I am bothering you.”
“No. I . . . I simply haven’t been deserving of it.”
Anton moved another pawn. “Everyone deserves kindness.”
Miss Muffet did not argue, but there was a sadness in her expression—almost as if she did not believe the golden rule applied to herself.
How very odd. Why would she think she was not worthy of kindness?
This sudden revelation made him want to try harder.
Tomorrow’s busy schedule seemed to fade away as he formulated how to prove to Miss Muffet that she mattered to the world.
Gunther and Terrance would likely tease him that the little Miss Muffet had captured his fancy.
It certainly wasn’t a love project, but she had his full attention.
Somewhere beneath her mop of hair and spectacles was a woman in need of tender care.