“You said I could change what I wished to?”
“That didn’t mean everything!” he snapped, throwing himself down into the chair and picking up the book at his side. “Or will you be changing my books next?” He held up the book in indignation. “Will you change myself?”
A mischievous smile appeared on her face.
“Tempting,” she whispered.
A sudden want to laugh filled Theodore’s gut. He barely managed to stamp down upon it.
“Was that a smile, Theo?”
She shortened my name.
Theodore stiffened. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever done that. Even his dearest friends never bothered to do so. It was sort of an unspoken agreement that he was too formal and neat in manner to stand a nickname.
“A very small one,” he whispered and opened the book in his lap.
“I will not change everything. On that, you have my word.” She walked forward. He was all too aware of her position in the room. He didn’t read what was on the page, but his eyes traced the bottom of her gown and her shoes as she walked toward the chair opposite him and sat down. “Everything in this room seems quite perfect as it is, in all honesty. It is not half as faded as the other rooms. Why is that?”
“I care for this room much more than the others.” The words were out of his lips before he could stop them. Just so he could keep up the pretense of reading, pretend that he wasn’t watching the way she tucked a curl of her dark hair behind her ear, he turned the page of the book.
“Why is that?” she persisted softly.
“I…” He tightened his lips. He had never told anyone why the library was his favorite room in the house. Even Yates and Mrs. Lancaster who often found him here when he was tired of being cooped up in the study for so long, didn’t ask him why the library was his favorite.
“Libraries are good places to escape,” Margaret mused, sitting forward in her chair. She was idly curling that lock around her finger now.
It is very, very distracting…
Theodore had a fantasy of being the one to do that to her hair. He had to wrench his mind from the thought and turned another page of his book.
“I often escaped into my father’s library when I was young. My sister, Louisa, and I, would often read books. They were a safer place to be, more exciting than the real world.”
“It’s what books offer,” he grunted. “An escape.”
“Is that what this place is to you?”
“Perhaps.” He turned another page. Margaret had lowered her hand to her lap now. Her delicate fingers rested on her thigh. It was making him all too aware of the curve of her figure.
I should not be attracted to her. I should not be thinking of how pretty she is day in and day out. Surely that is not why I am staring at her so much?
He turned another page, hoping she wasn’t dwelling on how quick a reader he was making himself appear.
“Then rest assured.” She stood and walked away. He lifted his gaze from the book entirely now, only to find she didn’t leave. She walked past him, gazing at the bookshelves behind him. Softly, she laid a hand on his shoulder.
He stiffened, startled at the warmth spreading through him at such a touch.
“I shall not change a book in this room, you have my word,” she whispered softly.
Then her hand was gone, and she stepped back to look at the books.
“Thank you.” He sighed with relief, turning back the pages now she wasn’t looking so he could attempt to read the passage again.
A minute of silence must have passed between them as she looked at the covers on the shelves and he tried to read. Still very distracted, his attempts to read were as futile as the last.
Closing up the book, he lowered it onto the table with a thud. She jumped, but didn’t enquire as to why he had done it. She kept her focus on the books instead.
Theodore watched her, marveling at her delicate fingers as they ran down the spines.
