Page 60 of Dearest Beast
Tomorrow he’d go back to avoiding Miss Adler. Perhaps he couldpersuade his sister-in-law to visit. Nina was charming and bright enough to be decent company for the woman.
Nodding to himself, he slid into his bed and closed his eyes, ready for an easy, satisfying, ideally dreamless sleep.
However, after another hour of tossing and turning and crushing pillows, Roger pulled on trousers and a shirt, not bothering with the cuffs or buttons, grabbed a candle, and headed toward the library.
The room was, in his opinion, the most impressive in the house, and not merely because it was the only one he’d decorated. It had been a present to himself for his thirtieth birthday. He’d taken four rooms from the two floors directly above it, so it could be three stories high, with floor-to-ceiling shelves on every wall, an opening in the middle, and enough floor space on the second and third story to allow for a lip, furnished with a few key chairs and tables, as well as properly positioned ladders, each with its own independent entrance, staircase access within. Rather spectacular if he said so himself.
His own bedroom was off the middle story, so that was where he housed most of his favorite fiction, less the few he’d gifted to Miss Adler.
If there was ever a night he needed a pleasurable distraction… Setting down his candle, he thumbed through the shelves of the newest volumes, settling on one of his old favorites. He carried it to the worn chair that molded best to his body and sank down to read, planning on just a few chapters, to allow his mind to be lulled into ease and permit him to sleep.
He’d just turned the page when the door creaked from below. Roger froze, then glanced over the railing. Through the dim light of his single candle, he watched a figure drift into the room and peruse the shelves, leaning so close their face almost touched the volumes. A figure whose hair gleamed red even in the darkness.
Roger bit back a groan.
He should leave, or perhaps sit very still until she exited. One or the other. That was the most prudent course of action.
But somehow, against his better judgment, he found himself setting his book aside, retaking the candle, and moving down the internal staircase onto the main floor of the library. He set the candle down again at the bottom of the staircase and crept toward the area she was searching, stopping just behind her.
“Looking for something, Miss Adler?” he asked, knowing full well he’d make her jump.
“I—” She did exactly as expected, whirling around. However, what he did not account for was the rug between them. She slipped on the edge, falling forward.
Reaching out, he caught her below the arms. “Careful,” he murmured, setting her upright. His hands lingered around her waist, brushing the soft fabric of the dressing gown she was wearing. Roses. She smelled like roses, fresh and light and—he glanced down. She was staring at him, horror in her expression.
Mercy. He was making a fool of himself. The woman knew he was practically betrothed. Had met Miss Teres herself. If he touched her now, he’d appear to be a, well, cad. Not that she thought any better of him.
But he was supposed to be better. He was better, damn it.
Quick as he could, he pulled his hands back, raking one through his hair. “I apologize. I just wanted to make sure you were steady.”
“Thank you. My footing is quite sound now,” she told him, her tone clipped as she turned to the shelves, now frantically searching them in an oddly amusing manner. “I’m just not used to the room.”
“Reading titles in the dark isn’t easy,” he commented.
“I’m surprised you can read them at all,” she retorted.
“Truly?” Roger asked with a huff.
“No,” Miss Adler said quickly, ducking her head a little.
“Liar,” he whispered. He stared at her for a moment, searching for her expression. “You believe I’m a fool, don’t you?”
Not that he should be insulted. After all, her opinion was of no consequence. Yet… somehow the idea that she truly thought he was, well, simple rankled him to no end.
“No. I am confident that you can read,” she told him rather stiffly.
“But not much more,” he surmised. Oh, the woman had no idea. None. Not very many people did—for a variety of reasons.
Yet somehow he wanted—no, needed—this woman to know. He needed to show her, to prove her wrong, at least in this calculation—whether her opinion mattered or not. For some odd reason, he wanted her to understand who he truly was and acknowledge the sacrifices he made for their collective benefit.
“Well, well, well,” he murmured, half to himself.
Miss Adler wrinkled her nose. “What?”
“You’ll see,” he found himself saying. An urge rose in his gut. Not his usual one. He walked back to the stairs and fetched the candle. Before she could protest, he proceeded to light the sconces, because if she was in his space, she was going to see it, damn it. In all its glory.
Yes, after tonight she would not be making any of those snide remarks about his literacy again. He was going to show her something she’d not forget.
