Page 63 of Dearest Beast
“Maybe,” he conceded after a moment. “But there’s the factor of time.”
“There’s time now,” she reminded him as gently as she could.
“Not as much as one would think. Especially with my lack of staff,” he countered.
True… She ran her fingers over his work again as another thought occurred to her. “Perhapsyoucould tutor your children,” she suggested, glancing over her shoulder at the man.
The man snorted again. “Yes, that would be the best use of my skills.”
Rebecca frowned. “As opposed to… ?”
He raised a brow. “Making sure we don’t lose what we already have,” he returned, impatience in his tone.
“There are plenty on the Commission who do that,” she reminded him.
“I can do it better,” he argued, shaking his head. “And there are professionals who can educate my children a great deal better than I. We each have our role, Miss Adler.”
And he enjoyed his, found it superior to what she’d suggested, not to mention her own role. It was not her place to interfere. Still… She pressed her lips together, unable to permit the full argument to die. “Yet you are currently short a governess. At least until you can hire a new one.” She glanced around. “You have what, hundreds of books here…”
“Thousands,” he corrected with a smirk. That should make her stomach fizzle, and yet… Oy, she was a draikopt.
“Thousands, then,” she amended. “Thus one would presume you have a plethora of inspiration if you chose to attempt it.” She gestured around the room, her hand coming to rest on a ladder. Her cheeks heating, she pushed backward, nearly tripping over the man.
“Additionally,” she continued, scurrying backward before he could steady her. “You do have siblings, so you’re presumably quite comfortable with children.”
There was a pause. Rebecca glanced at up at the man as an odd shadow fell over his countenance. However, it was gone so quickly, she wondered if she’d imagined it. He brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his slightly buttoned shirt, revealing a certainly improper amount of lanky but still unmistakably strong chest—which she was very much not staring at.
“I’m the youngest,” he said, clearing his throat. “I know how to compete with those older than me, not to mind those younger.”
Probably a fair assessment, and yet…
“It isn’t that difficult,” Rebecca found herself arguing. “Especially with an intelligent charge.” She remembered those days caring for Isabelle before they were old enough to be friends. “I’ve done it.”
“You were young,” he pointed out with a wry curl of his lip.
“I thought you were still spry.” She was unable to resist a smile at the surprisingly self-deprecating humor. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Besides, what I had in energy, you make up for in patience. Tenfold,” she replied, throwing his words back at him this time.
“For roses and fops,” he countered with a laugh. “My children are neither.”
The two stared at each other for another long moment, odd energy surrounding them. Rebecca rubbed her arms, wishing she’d taken more covering.
“Are you cold?” the man asked.
“A touch,” she lied, as he already, thankfully, turned his head from her to stroll to the fire, poking at the embers, while the silence between them grew again.
“This is truly spectacular,” she called to him, spinning around, her arms wide. She gazed at the ceiling once more. “I could live in here.”
Rising from the hearth, Berab turned back to her.
“So could I.” He drew near to her once more. So near that the skirts of her nightdress touched his trousers.
“Why don’t you?” She stepped backward once more, pretending to examine a book.
“Sleeping in one of those chairs would probably cause a crick in my aged neck,” he told her, making her laugh.
But he did not join in. No, instead he drew a breath. “I’ve been meaning to apologize.”
“Apologize.” Placing the volume back in its spot, she turned to squint at him.
