Chapter 9 #2
“Then you are growing more trusting of us?”
She shook her head, amused. “If I answer yes, you will surely keep prying at all my dark secrets.”
Anton stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back in his chair. “Dark secrets? This I must hear.”
She shook her head again. “The only thing I have to recommend of myself is the air of mystery I carry about my person.”
Instead of laughing like she thought he would, his lips drooped into a frown.
“Why would you think that? You possess many exceptional qualities. You do not simper and play games like other debutantes. That alone raises you in my book. You are intelligent, patient—especially with my family—and a terribly good listener. Look at me spouting on and on. You never even seem remotely bored with my conversation when I know I am the least entertaining person in this house.”
“How can you say that? I am more comfortable in this room with you than anywhere else in the world. I don’t think entertaining is as important as being safe or caring.” She tensed after her admission. Her tongue, usually so disciplined, had a mind of its own today.
He sat up and leaned forward over his knees, bringing his person ever closer to hers, his eyes glinting from the dancing fire. “I have never received a greater compliment. Surely, it’s the library and not me that entices you to this room.”
“Perhaps,” she lied, knowing that if she did not change the subject, that she might confess her heart. “Books are rather magical. I would wager my greatest talent is to glean hidden gems from even the most boring text.”
He stared at her, as if he could see right through her useless attempt to throw boundaries around their conversation. Right when the mood between them sizzled as hot as the fire behind the grate, he sat back in his seat dousing it with needed air between them.
“You spoke of wagers and texts. I declare you prove your ability to me.”
Elena sputtered. “Prove?”
“Shall we play a little game? We both select a few books and have a quarter of an hour to find something diverting, something inspiring, and something dreadfully boring in which to share with the other person.”
“How will we determine the winner?” Elena asked.
“I think we are adult enough to vote between ourselves.”
She loved the idea of spending more time with Anton, and it seemed that he wanted to spend more time with her as well. “And what is at stake if I should lose? Or is there an enticement to win?”
“Hmm . . . I overheard cook speaking with my mother this morning. She is making soup for dinner. The loser must slurp their soup very loudly.”
“I couldn’t.” Elena laughed. “I fear you are used to making wagers with your brother and Mr. Gunther. What about a token? The winner must give up something precious to them.”
“Like a dark secret?” his brow rose to an exaggerated height.
“Or a special button?” She lifted her own brows equally high.
“I could never take your prized buttons,” Anton shook his head. “How about a swift kick to someone vexing? Or a kiss to someone undeserving? Yes, I think that’s a valid consequence. The loser must give up a kiss to someone, and the winner chooses who that someone will be.”
She scoffed. “This is your brilliant idea? I fear it is worse than the soup. I could be kissing a pig this time tomorrow.”
“Or Mr. Gunther’s grandfather . . .”
“Stop!” Elena giggled. “Your mischievousness is very un-earl-like.”
“I have never been fond of gambling, but I do think the higher the stakes in this case, the better.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I have never seen you this happy before. I believe this game is very important to your health.”
“Because kissing a married gentleman twice my age is exactly what a doctor prescribes?”
“Well, yes.” He pulled out his timepiece clipped to his vest pocket. “Oh, look, the game begins . . . now.”
Elena squealed and jumped from her seat. She nearly tripped over the little tuffet as she raced to the shelf.
Anton laughed behind her but was equally enthusiastic in his stride to the other end of the shelf.
He grabbed books left and right. He opened them and shut them again, before stacking them next to him on the floor.
The pile grew higher and higher before Elena had managed to find the one book she thought would be the best for an entertaining text.
“I am worried about your methods.” Anton’s voice was nearly breathless.
Elena laughed. “At least I have a method. You are making a mess of the library.”
“It will be worth it if I can find some needy gentleman who sorely lacks the confidence with the ladies. One generous kiss from you, and he will be skipping his way to matrimony.”
Elena groaned as she shoved another unhelpful book back into place. “Since I will be the winner, I shall find you a sweet girl who has been pining for you since childhood. You will be her white knight.”
“Clearly, you are not acquainted with the neighborhood.”
“Didn’t you hear about the picnic your sister and mother are planning? A few well-placed inquiries with Mary ought to do the trick.”
“Thunder and turf!” Anton growled. He pulled books off the shelf at a greater pace, causing several to tumble to the floor. Interesting. There was at least one girl he was bent on avoiding.
Elena smothered her smile and selected her second book.
She only needed something inspiring now.
She turned and caught sight of the family Bible, turned on the shelf so its whole cover was facing forward.
It was placed on the other side of a book end, giving it a place of distinction.
She gasped. It was perfect! It was also on the other side of Anton.
She moved behind him, but he deduced what she was moving toward.
“Blast!” he cried.
Strong arms encircled her waist and lifted her out of the way.
For a moment, she forgot about their competition—her thoughts consumed by the sensation of being held.
Anton released her abruptly and lunged for the Bible.
Unfortunately, the stool was in the way and tripped him.
Elena blinked away her stupor and sidestepped him.
She managed to secure the Bible before he could get up.
Anton laughed from the floor. “You win this round.”
“I intend to win them all,” Elena said, darting to her seat with her three specially chosen books.
Anton groaned and hurried to finish selecting his items. “Just six minutes left.”
“You’re joking!” Elena thumbed through the Bible first, searching for the right verse to share.
Her heart raced from the thrill of the competition.
Anton took his seat with an armful, and Elena shook her head.
There was no doubt now that she would win.
She had the advantage of an extra minute and less books to search through.
The last minutes ticked by, and Anton finally called the time.
“All right. Should we start with boring?”
Elena put her hands to her temple. “This was much harder than I thought it would be. I needed a good half hour.”
“Ha! I needed a good three days.”
She held up her first book as if it were a great trophy. “For my boring text, I selected the dictionary. I have never met an individual who has ever read it all the way through.”
“Very good,” Anton said, impressed. He held up his book. “But I think many would find a dictionary interesting should they have the need for a word. My text contains the words boring, tedious, and dreary all on the same page. There is absolutely no room for argument here.”
Elena shook her head. “Very well, I concede you outdid me. Shall we move to diverting passages? I found one from Gulliver’s Travels. “... a wife should be always a reasonable and agreeable companion, because she cannot always be young.”
Anton chuckled. “A good one to be sure. Here is mine, a line from Shakespeare’s The Tempest: He receives comfort like cold oatmeal.”
A laugh bubbled out of Elena. “Is that truly what the line says?”
“It is just here, come see.”
Elena stood and moved to look over his shoulder. “So it is.” Anton’s head turned, and their vision connected. His lips curled into a sultry smile, and her eyes dropped to his mouth.
“So who is the winner of this round?” His soft words broke the strange connection between them, and Elena lurched back with surprise.
“Mine is written with greater wit, but yours is unexpected humor, which I can always appreciate.”
“Do we call a tie?” Anton asked.
“Let us see who has found the most inspiring passage. I admit, I did not have time to choose a favorite verse. However, I have the most inspiring book, do I not? I shall open and read the first verse, and we shall see how it compares to yours.” She opened the Bible.
“Ah, Psalms. Excellent. Forsake her not, and she shall preserve thee: love her . . .”—Elena hesitated—“. . . and she shall keep thee.” Her cheeks warmed.
“I, uh, imagined something of a different nature.”
Anton’s chuckle was low and rich, his gaze soft. “The Bible is full of revelatory passages.” After an extended beat, he pulled a volume onto his lap. “Mine is from An Essay Concerning Human Understanding by John Locke. A favorite line says, what worries you, masters you.”
Elena repeated the words in her mind. What worries you, masters you.
The truth rang inside of her louder than the clang of bells.
She had been a slave to her worries for so long.
Images of Bianca taunted her, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Paralyzing words pummeled her mind. You are worthless.
The fewer words you say, the less I pity the listener.
You were not meant to wear color, since it would be better to blend in with the furniture than for anyone to have to look at you.
Years’ worth of criticism flooded through her mind, and her head throbbed with the weight of it.
“Miss Muffet?”
Elena snapped her eyes open. “Yes?”
“You were a thousand miles away just now.”
She gave a sheepish smile, trying to bury the pain her thoughts had resurrected. “Locke knew what he was saying, didn’t he?”
“It’s more a warning than an all-inclusive statement. I should like to think that worrying can motivate change and progression. It’s when it consumes and paralyzes us that we know we are in trouble.”
She swallowed. “Have you ever experienced such a state?”
“Me? Yes. I believe so. When my father died. I remember reading this then, and I promised myself I would not let my fears from my new position hold me back.”
“Your courage is most impressive.”
“I hardly think so. I’ve had my family’s help. When we cannot progress alone, we must look to someone else who can carry us for a time. I discovered these words at the exact moment I needed them, and they could not be counted as coincidence. Divine arms always carry me the longest.”
“I believe you have won, Lord Crawford. I shall forever remember these words. I have great need of them.”
They were both quiet for a moment, before Anton broke the silence. “Let’s forget the wager, shall we? I could never ask you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.” Anton’s brow creased in the middle. “Should you ever need anything, Miss Muffet, I am your friend.”
The words settled around her heart like a blanket, thawing the ice the flood of memories had caused. “I thank you.” She was suddenly embarrassed under his watchful eye. “Mary and Sophia are likely wondering what is taking me so long.”
“Go ahead, I can clean up in here.”
“Are you sure?” She picked up the Bible and hurriedly returned it to its place.
“Please, go on. I will make a quick work of this.”
“Very well.” She tucked her shawl around her shoulders and pulled it close in front, stalling at the door. “Thank you.” Those two simple words could never encapsulate her gratitude for their morning together, but it was all she had to give him.
She slipped out of the room and sighed. Would she ever meet a man equal to Anton after Bianca married? She would forever be ruined in love, having known what companionship and affection could be like and never having the opportunity to own it for herself.