Chapter Three
The encounter had been so strange, so unsettlingly provocative, that Tess stood frozen after the man departed, her gaze fixed
on the doorframe his broad shoulders had barely squeezed through.
It took far too long to catch her breath and tame the wild beat of her heart. Even then, she felt overheated and utterly frustrated
because the room seemed shockingly empty now that he’d gone.
Mercy, the way he’d looked at her, as if she was some fascinating creature. As if he found her all but irresistible.
Her. Tess Hawthorne. The scandalous spinster of Wiggenstow.
For a moment, he’d stared so fixedly at her mouth, she thought he might kiss her. And for one terribly brazen moment, she’d
wanted him to.
One word he’d said echoed again in her mind. Princes.
She swung around and went to retrieve her satchel, pulling out the notebook she always carried with her. It had become a compendium
of notes about her father’s research and then her own, as well as her other interests and preoccupations. A few pages in,
she found what she sought—a clipping cut from a local Norfolk news sheet several months ago.
And there he was—all that magnetism, wavy dark hair, and square jaw. The artist had even captured the cleft in his chin. The article featured sketches of both Dominic Prince and his sister Eveline, along with details about the dig they’d conducted at a mound near Tess’s village back in October.
Her twin brother, Tristan, had drawn a heart above Mr. Prince’s head to tease her, as Tess couldn’t help commenting on his
handsome face. But they’d both been most interested in the details. The Princes were doing the sort of work that Tess had
often dreamed of undertaking. Though their father had been a historian and had long speculated on what sort of treasures the
mounds in their county might hold, he’d never had any desire to organize a dig himself.
Tess had actually attempted to do just that once, planning out the whole undertaking and convincing Tristan and a few young
men in the village to help. But the one person she could never convince was Lord Reginald Fenbridge, the greatest landowner
in the county. The mounds on his land were tantalizing, yet he’d allowed no one to fully explore them.
Tess couldn’t fathom why the old nobleman did not wish to know if ancient gold and silver lined those hills. His own ancestors
might have left a trace of their lives and personal histories under the soil.
She ran her finger over the image of Dominic Prince and remembered the warmth that rippled through her when he told her she
was lovely.
What nonsense.
The man’s reputation as a charmer and rogue was now completely understandable. He was silver-tongued and far more appealing
than anyone had a right to be.
She tucked the clipping into her notebook and turned back to Lady Goddard’s books. Now it made sense why he’d been here. The
Princes were renowned antiquarians, though it still rankled that the dowager countess would employ him to rifle through the
collection without telling her.
Why engage two people to work at cross purposes?
Tess inspected each book Mr. Prince had tossed onto the carpet, trying to ignore the scents of pine and clove that wafted
up from the volumes he’d touched. None seemed to have suffered any significant damage, but what was she supposed to do with
them? Would her ladyship truly wish to discard perfectly good books?
Her organizing efforts had been going so well until Dominic Prince appeared, disturbed her orderly system, and left her breathless.
Good heavens, if Tristan knew he’d never let her live it down.
“Miss Hawthorne?”
Tess jumped at the sound of the countess’s voice. She was usually busy making social calls during the hours when Tess came
to work on the library.
Pasting on a smile, she turned to face her employer.
“Yes, your ladyship?”
The countess seemed to take in everything in one sweeping assessment—the gaps on the shelves, the pile of books on the table,
and then Tess.
“You look overwrought, Miss Hawthorne.”
“Not at all.”
She narrowed one dark eye at Tess. “I take it you met Dominic Prince.”
“Yes.” Tess stifled the urge to say more.
“Newby says he heard raised voices and that Mr. Prince left abruptly.”
“I . . .” Tess fumbled to explain what had taken place with the tall dark man whose scent still lingered in the air.
Lady Goddard didn’t wait for Tess to say more. “I was expecting Miss Eveline Prince, you see, but I was most pleased when Newby informed me that Mr. Prince had appeared instead.”
Something flashed in the countess’s expression when she mentioned him that Tess thought looked a great deal like giddiness.
“But now I find that he’s already departed.” Her lower lip jutted out a bit, like a child who’d just had their favorite toy
plucked from their hand. “Why ever did you send him scurrying off so quickly?”
“I didn’t.”
Lady Goddard narrowed her gaze on Tess further, studying her.
Tess prayed her blush had faded, that her eyes gave nothing away, that none of the whirlwind of feelings Dominic Prince had
evoked were apparent under the noblewoman’s keen inspection.
Lady Goddard stepped closer. If she had a quizzing glass, Tess didn’t doubt she’d be using it to assess her. “What exactly
occurred between you and Mr. Prince?”
Tess cleared her throat, struggling to construct the simplest explanation with the fewest words. She didn’t need another scandal
in her life. She wasn’t that reckless girl anymore. Yet when she recalled the way he looked at her, the heat that had zinged
through her at his words, the way her body responded to his nearness . . .
“Out with it, Miss Hawthorne, or I shall assume the very worst.”
How could she tell the woman the truth? The man looked at me like he was starving, and I was a jam tart.
“He was sorting through the very books I spent the last week organizing.”
Lady Goddard nodded. “Yes, that is precisely what I asked his sister to do, and for some reason, he came in her stead.”
“I did not know that, my lady, so I was surprised to find him here.” Tess heard a tinge of annoyance in her tone and regretted
it.
The countess was already peeved at the man’s departure.
“I may employ whoever I please, Miss Hawthorne, and do with all of this”—she flicked a hand at the cluttered library—“as I
see fit.”
“Of course.”
She harrumphed and crossed her arms. “I want him back.”
Tess pressed her lips together and cast her gaze at the carpet. What on earth could she say to that? Especially considering
that the exact same sentiment had filtered through her mind the moment he’d left the library.
“I think we shall put an end to your organizing, Miss Hawthorne. Please do not return tomorrow or thereafter.”
Tess snapped her gaze to her employer’s. “Your ladyship? You’re dismissing me?”
“I shall pay you the whole sum we agreed upon,” she said as if Tess should be grateful for her magnanimity. “My uncle’s friendship
with your father demands that at least. But yes, I appreciate what you’ve done so far, but I think I prefer to have Mr. Prince
here to finish the task.”
It was on the tip of Tess’s tongue to tell the countess that he’d done nothing like what she had done. She had been organizing
the collection, as she’d been asked to do. He’d been throwing books on the floor, for heaven’s sake.
But if six and twenty years of life had taught Tess anything, it was that some battles weren’t worth fighting. The determined
set of Lady Goddard’s jaw told her that this wasn’t one she’d win, even if she tried.
“Very well, my lady. I shall finish up and—”
“Yes, do, Miss Hawthorne. Then collect your things and see Newby, who’ll provide you with the amount we agreed upon.” She
nodded as if quite pleased with her decision. Then she swept from the room, the beaded fringe of her day dress rustling as
she went.
Tess bit her lip and fought the frustrated tears that threatened to fall. She’d never been dismissed from employment in her
life. And she’d done nothing to deserve it now.
But then relief swept in too. She wasn’t losing out on the much-needed wages that had drawn her to London and this opportunity
in the first place, and she had been missing home. Whenever she was away too long, she began to worry about what Tristan might
be getting up to. Her twin seemed to stumble into trouble effortlessly.
After penning a note regarding what she’d done, what she thought still needed to be completed, and Mr. Prince’s recommendations,
Tess collected her satchel and then took one last look at the library and all the items Lady Goddard’s uncle had collected
over a lifetime. She hoped that wherever the books and pieces ended up, they’d be treasured.
Then she strode into the hall to find Newby waiting for her.
“Wishing you the very best, Miss Hawthorne,” the butler told her as he handed her an envelope with her wages inside. “It will
be odd not to greet you tomorrow.”
Tess smiled. “I was thinking the same, Mr. Newby.”
Once she was out on the pavement, and Newby had closed the door behind her, Tess calculated how long it would take to return
to the boarding house, pack the few items she’d brought with her to London, and catch the train headed north. Habit caused
her to lift her grandfather’s pocket watch to check the time.
It was still stuck where it had been on her omnibus ride. Apparently, it had been a portent of bad tidings after all.
Tess secured a ticket and made the journey in time to step into Foxdene, her family’s cottage, just as the orange wisps of
sunset began to sweep across the horizon.
“Oh, dear Tess, you gave me a fright, you did.” Mrs. Wells, the family’s longtime housekeeper, cook, and staunchest defender,
paused a moment, eyes wide, before bustling forward and giving Tess a warm hug. “We’d all expected you to be in London at
least a fortnight longer.”
“As did I.” Tess drew in a breath and smiled at the familiar scents of fresh baked bread, roasting vegetables, and the lavender