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Angel rose from the bed and tweaked the blankets. Considering Angel was not exactly an expert at holding in her opinions, Mrs. Stone still managed to surprise her with her unapologetically frank manner. If the statement did not cause a riot of discomfort inside her, Angel would be applauding her.

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, my dear.” Mrs. Stone’s gaze sharpened. “I would have thought you would find it amusing, the idea of marrying a man like my Reuben.”

“Oh yes, it’s very amusing.” Angel forced a light laugh. It should have been and yet… Angel frowned to herself. That man—and her reaction to him—was strange indeed. The sooner she got control of this situation, the better.

Angel moved around the bed to plump up the pillows behind Mrs. Stone and help her sit up a little farther.

“You do look tired, dear. Why do you not go and get some rest? We will not be eating for a few hours, and I think I might sit and read for a little while.”

“Are you certain?” The sparkle in Mrs. Stone’s eyes made her stomach bunch, but a yawn escaped her before she could hold it back. She did indeed need a little extra rest.

“Yes, yes.” Mrs. Stone waved a hand. “I will be no trouble, I promise.”

“Very well, I shall check on you before breakfast.”

Angel left the bedroom and headed to her own room, picking up her pace when she went past Mr. Hunter’s room. She did not need to see him again, especially before taking some time to rest. If she did, she feared she’d spend the entire timepicturing him all wet and half-clothed. She shook her head to herself. What the devil was wrong with her?

Chapter Six

Straightening his cravat, Reuben marched briskly through the corridors of Kinden House toward the breakfast room, the speed of his pace mostly dictated by his fear of running into Angel.

No, not fear. That made him sound as though he had been cowering in his room since meeting her in the corridor. Yes, he had found his thoughts occupied by her while he bathed and dressed, but he was not scared of her. He simply did not need any more conflict, and for some reason, she created a lot of it, even if she did not realize it.

Why the devil he should be allowing the woman to occupy his mind so much, he did not know. If he were merely dwelling on the idea that she was not suited to looking after his aunt and he was not certain he could trust her, that would be well enough.

For some bloody reason, it had been the way her hair was mussed around her face, and then there was that little crease in her cheeks from sleep, and how pink her cheeks were, how full her lips looked in the morning light.

A flourish of heat rolled through him, and he clenched his jaw. Being under the same roof as her had been a hasty decision driven by…well, by that damned Cartwright. But it would give him the chance to keep an eye on Angel.

Angel…

He should have stuck to formalities, but now her name was fixed in his mind. He sighed and pushed through the door to the parlor room. If anyone was incorrectly named, it was her.

A thump echoed through the house. Reuben stilled in the next corridor and frowned. He tilted his head and listened as another muffled thud rang through the house. He waited and, sure enough, another thud followed. He could hardly claim to know the servant’s routines, but he could not fathom what they should be throwing around to make such a noise.

Striding up the corridor, he stopped outside the door to the library. Another thump confirmed his suspicions that this was where the noise was coming from. He eased open the door and pushed his head through. The library was small by some houses’ standards, but bookshelves spanned all four walls, even the one broken up by three long windows. Books were crammed onto thin shelves between each window and also stacked on the windowsills. Reading had been his uncle’s passion, and there had rarely been a day when he’d seen him without a book in his hand.

These books were precious to Mr. Stone.

And at present, dozens were scattered all over the floor. He scowled and scanned the room then closed his eyes briefly with a faint groan.

“Aunt, what are you doing?”

The pale figure sheathed in a white nightgown twisted to eye him, leaning precariously back off the spindly ladder. His heart nearly jumped out of his throat, and he hastened forward to stand beneath her.

“Good morning, Roo,” Aunt Jean said cheerfully, apparently unaware or uncaring of the danger she put herself in. If she fell, she could very well break something or worse.

“You need to get down,” he said with far more patience than he felt.

“I will in just a moment.” A book went flying past his face and thudded against the floorboards, throwing up a cloud of dust and spilling open so that the fragile pages splayed out.

“Christ,” he muttered to himself. Some of these books could be old and worth a fortune, and his aunt was throwing them around like a child kicking about leaves in the autumn.

“What was that, dear?”

“I said, do you not think you should come down, Aunt?”

“I must find this book first.” She started muttering something to herself while running her fingers along the spines of the books on the top shelf.