Page 3 of Marie’s Merry Gentleman (The Bookshop Belles #2)

CHAPTER 2

Definitely Not Fainting

“ D on’t you dare faint!” Sebastian had just managed to get the box of books off the donkey - which had tried to bite him, the rotten little creature - when he saw Miss Baxter begin to totter. She sort of collapsed against the door and he shoved the books inside on the floor and grabbed at her, catching both her arms.

Why, she’s only a bit of a thing , he realised. She was quite short, and there wasn’t much of her as he hauled her inside and put her on the settle in the hall.

She blinked up at him from hazel-green eyes fringed by long damp lashes behind rain-speckled glasses. With a note of indignation in her voice, a voice he’d immediately noticed had the accents of a well-educated, gently bred lady, she said, “I never faint!”

She’d given a fair impression of fainting, he thought, as his attention was torn between his books and the young lady. All this time he’d believed he’d been communicating with a tradesman. His letters had grown increasingly terse with his fear they might not arrive at all. He’d kept ordering more in the hope that the size of the delivery would make it worth Mr Baxter’s while.

Yet all along, he’d been berating a young lady while her father was in France. That would explain one of her letters claiming they were low on staff.

He gently patted her hand and said, “You’re out of the weather now, but you cannot go out in it again this day. It will be dark soon and the road back to Carlisle will be far too dangerous.”

“I do not need to go as far as Carlisle.” The young lady sat herself up a little and turned her feet back and forth at the ankles, no doubt to see if she could feel her toes. He would wager she could not. “I can stay at the inn I passed in Alston.”

“That is no place for a lady,” Sebastian said in immediate rejection; he wouldn’t send any woman to The Sally, never mind a pretty, well-bred young lady! The moment the words were out, he knew the only answer was for her to stay here. Well, they had plenty of rooms. Mrs Ellwood and young Morag would assist. In fact, if he summoned them, they’d take her under their care and he could get to his books. He’d waited long enough to get them!

Mr Martin, his butler, reappeared with the two women required, and also a footman who then went outside to take the horse and donkey around to the stables.

“You read my mind,” Sebastian said with relief.

Mrs Ellwood immediately began to cluck over Miss Baxter like a mother hen. She patted the girl’s hand and exclaimed, “Morag, she’s cold as ice!”

Morag nodded and said something agreeable in tone, but utterly undecipherable - the maid was from the Scottish Highlands and spoke English with an accent so thick even Sebastian, who had grown up here close to the Scots border, struggled to decipher.

Mrs Elwood said, “Let’s get you into some warm dry clothes, Miss.”

“Call me Marie,” the lady replied. “Please don’t fuss. I will be all right. I have dry clothes in my portmanteau.”

Confident that she’d be well taken care of, Sebastian left Miss Baxter to the women and set upon his parcel of books. The wrapping was tight and very well put together. Mr Martin appeared beside him with a small knife to cut through the leather straps that would not loosen thanks to the freezing conditions. He could, of course, wait until they dried but that would mean waiting for his books.

He’d waited far too long already.

With a flick, the leather snapped loose and he attempted to unfasten the oilcloth wrapping, only to realise it was actually stitched together. He reached for the knife again. It was only one layer, but when he rolled it back he found there was yet another layer underneath. Once he got the box open he found that each book itself was individually wrapped with rolled strips of lambswool tucked in between them, to prevent them rubbing against each other and moving inside the box.

He grinned like a child, impressed at how cleverly and carefully they had packaged this. Maybe he really could have trusted them to ship him the books after all!

He removed the last layer of protection and gasped at his new, much-longed-for prize, the first of the three-volume folio of Antiquities of Athens by Stuart and Revett. He raised the book in his hands, as if holding a holy relic. The leather binding was cold to touch, no doubt from the weather. It was completely dry. He walked over to the candelabra and opened the cover to look at the frontispiece.

Stunning. His breath caught in his throat in wonder, as he carefully turned each page.

“Perfection,” he whispered, before reverently carrying the book into his library and laying it on the desk. If the other two volumes were in as good a condition as the first, the twenty pounds he’d agreed to pay for them was an absolute bargain.

“Shall I bring the rest of the books in for you, my lord?” Mr Martin inquired from the doorway.

“No, don’t touch them! I shall bring them myself.” Sebastian smiled an apology at the butler, who knew his quirks well and nodded in grave acceptance.

“As you wish, sir.” Mr Martin paused, cleared his throat and said delicately, “As the young lady will be staying the night, shall I set a place for her to dine with you?”

That would mean he’d have to make conversation, and spend less time with his new treasures.

“She might like a tray in her room,” he suggested.

He was feeling rather clever at that, but Mr Martin gave him a gently reproving look. Sebastian sighed. He supposed making the effort to socialise was the least he should do for Miss Baxter, after the long, wet and perishingly cold journey she’d just made. “Yes, very well then. Set two places for dinner.”

“Very good, my lord.” Mr Martin bowed and withdrew, leaving Sebastian in peace.

He reached for his pile of goods and reverently unwrapped each title. His heart soared as he looked at each one. They were cold bricks of leather and paper that came to life in his hands as he opened each cover to look inside.

The work and skills to write them, then bind them so beautifully. They were works of art and they were here with him now.

He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy in his life.

The clock struck five, startling Sebastian out of his absorption with his new treasures. He reluctantly closed the book he’d been perusing and rose to his feet, supposing he should go and wash his hands. Dinner would be served shortly.

Miss Baxter was coming down the stairs with the housekeeper as Sebastian stepped out into the hallway, and he paused to look at her. She’d seemed a bedraggled waif when she arrived, but dry and in a clean dress, she was actually passably pretty, dark brown hair curling around an oval face, those hazel eyes huge behind her glasses.

“Good evening, Miss Baxter,” he said politely. “I trust Mrs Ellwood has taken adequate care of you?”

“Indeed, my lord.” She reached the bottom of the stairs and made him a neat little curtsy. “Your staff have been everything gracious. And I do appreciate your kind offer of hospitality for the night,” she added, as an apparent afterthought.

It was pitch black outside and the snow had increased to almost blizzard conditions. Wind howled around the castle’s turrets. Sebastian shuddered to think of anyone having to be out in such weather, much less a young lady like Miss Baxter. “It was the least I could do, considering how far you have come,” he said honestly. “Please, allow me to escort you in to dinner.” He offered his arm.

She looked at it as though surprised, then looked back at his face, her expression slightly quizzical. “Thank you,” she said finally, then put her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her into the dining room.

“You mentioned your father is in France?”

“Yes, on a book buying expedition now that Napoleon is safely in exile.”

“I almost envy him,” he said. “Let me know the moment he returns, he has an excellent eye for quality.”

She hesitated just as they walked through the doorway, a quiet “Oh,” escaping her lips.

Sebastian tried to see the dining room through her eyes; a vast polished oak table, big enough to seat twenty, with several multi-branched silver candelabras atop it, the lit candles chasing away the dark. A roaring fire in the grate provided heat and a comforting glow. Silver and glassware glinted from the two place settings at one end of the table.

Sebastian escorted Miss Baxter to her seat, took his own, and tried to make small talk as a footman brought in the soup.

He had never been good at it, however, and was several years out of practice. “Your father is Mr M Baxter?”

“Yes,” she said, in between mouthfuls of soup.

“And you are Miss M Baxter.”

“Correct.”

“You signed your correspondence M Baxter.”

She nodded and added nothing further.

He tried a few more topics and she mostly answered in monosyllables. Sebastian found his questions seemed to be getting ever more inane due to her lack of responses.

It was at some point after the pheasant in cherry sauce had been served that Miss Baxter set down her fork, turned to him and said;

“You don’t have to entertain me, my lord. It’s perfectly fine if you do not wish to talk. I don’t mind silence.”

Startled, Sebastian paused with his own fork half-way to his mouth and stared at her. She gave him an odd little smile.

“Did you not expect me to say that? I’m sorry if I startled you. I always seem to discomfit people when I say honest things like that.”

“You didn’t discomfit me,” Sebastian managed. “It is… rather a pleasure to find someone who shares my inclination not to fill silence with idle chatter.”

She smiled at that, a true, genuine smile rather than the socially polite efforts she had offered thus far, and he smiled back at her before lifting his glass of wine and raising it in a silent toast.

It was a pleasant meal, in the end, both of them enjoying their food without feeling the need to chatter, and Sebastian found that contrary to his expectation, he hadn’t minded having his solitude broken at all.

“Would you be interested in seeing my library, Miss Baxter?” he asked as the footman cleared the last dishes away.

She responded with a shining smile of gratitude, and he found himself automatically smiling in return.

“Select whichever book takes your fancy to read this evening,” he said as they entered the library.

She made a soft “Oh!” of wonder as she took in the library.

He puffed with pride, because this was his favourite room in the castle. It had been smaller, many years ago, but he’d extended it outward and created an arch where a wall had previously been.

He had his new delivery of books to entertain him, and sat by a desk to absorb the beauty of them. For her part, she took her time perusing the shelves until she selected an atlas of the new world. She took it and sat near the fire in a comfortable wingback chair.

In companionable calm, they spent the next hour or so reading their selected titles. On occasion he looked up to make sure that she was comfortable and had whatever she needed. Mr Martin quietly placed a glass of sherry on the side table beside her. She nodded her thanks but did not look up. Then Martin brought a glass with slightly more liquor in it over to him for a nightcap.

Not needing to talk was so comfortable. No, not comfortable, enjoyable.

He’d be happy to invite her over and not talk any time she liked.

The following morning, the snow lay deep and heavy around the castle and Sebastian knew Miss Baxter would not be going anywhere. He pointed this out when she came down to breakfast, and she looked at him with horror all over her pretty face.

“I need to return to my sisters!” she protested.

“Write them a letter, I’ll frank it for you. It will reach them in better condition than you would if you went out in this.”

“But I must get home. They need me.”

Sebastian firmly disagreed. “You’re not from here, you’re not used to the conditions.” She didn’t even have a suitable coat; the thin thing she’d arrived in last night would have done little to protect her against the icy Pennine winter winds. She wouldn’t even make it as far as Alston village in this weather without doing herself a mischief, never mind all the way to Carlisle. He simply would not have that on his conscience. He would forbid the grooms from saddling her horse, much less tying the donkey to her saddle, and that would be that. Folding his arms across his chest, he shook his head sternly. He couldn’t believe she was in such a rush to leave. He’d given her payment for the magnificent books, and extra for the return journey. He’d parcelled it into smaller amounts so that nobody would see the entire sum in one glance and make her a target for opportunistic thieves.

Mr Martin said, “The lady does seem determined to injure herself.”

“It’s only snow,” she said, sounding confident. “It’s almost finished falling. It’s not the wet sleet I arrived in, and I have extra scarves.” She bid them farewell and turned to head out the door.

Sebastian shook his head in silent dread, but she seemed determined to hurt herself.

Dutifully, Mr Martin opened the large front door for her. Coldness filled the entry hall as she walked down to the front steps.

“It is cold, but it’s so much clearer than last night.” She turned and looked back to Mr Martin and himself. “I shall make it back to Carlisle and send another letter on ahead of me.” Then she turned and took the next step.

With a sudden yelp, she flailed and fell straight down. “Owww!” she yelled in pain, clutching at her left ankle.

And there it was. “I told you so,” Sebastian said as he made his way carefully down the steps to their injured guest. “Probably black ice under the snow that you can’t see.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said as she sucked her breath through her teeth.

“You may have broken your ankle!” Sebastian disagreed as he scooped her up in his arms to bring her back inside and away from the snow and ice.

“It’s not that bad,” she protested.

He looked at her face and recognised the set of her jaw. “You’re doing a passable job of hiding it, but you must be in agony. You have at least given it a bad sprain.”

“No I haven’t.” Her lower lip jutted out mulishly.

He wanted to laugh at how ridiculous she was being. “Saying that does not make it true,” Sebastian pointed out, carrying her slowly back up the steps. He didn’t want to slip on the ice and fall himself, or they’d both be in a pickle.

Once inside, Martin shut the doors to keep the ice and snow out. Sebastian deposited Miss Baxter on the same settle as he’d placed her on the night before.

Trying to sound kind, Sebastian said, “At least now you’ll have to stay until the weather improves. I just hope it’s not broken.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, causing his heart to wrench unexpectedly at the sight of her misery.

“I suppose we might need to send for the local doctor,” she conceded with an unhappy sniffle.

Oh dear, she really had no concept of how things worked around here. “We would, if there was one,” he said, shrugging regretfully. “I like Alston because it’s so remote, but the remoteness means we must do without. However, I have a great many medical books I can consult. Let me fetch one from the library.”

Marie could not believe she’d been so foolish. Black ice? She’d heard about it but had never experienced it. She’d been so keen to begin her return she hadn’t given it a thought. Now it became painfully clear. The sleet from last night would have made the steps wet. The first layers of snow to fall on top of that moisture would have frozen hard. Then more layers of soft snow above would make it all but invisible.

If only she’d kept walking forward instead of turning back to boast about how safe she was! What a fool she’d been. Now she could be stuck here for goodness knows how long!

“The light is better in the upstairs guest room Miss Baxter occupied last night,” Mr Martin suggested as the earl returned from the library with a thick book in his hand.

The earl reached down to lift her up, but Marie put her palm up to stop him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said.

It wasn’t right to have an earl carrying her about like a porter at an inn carried luggage. Cautiously, she sat up and turned her body so she could stand, being careful to balance one hand against the wall and place her weight on her uninjured right foot.

Pain throbbed in her left foot as the blood flowed south. The second she tried to put her weight on it, agony speared through her leg and she sat down immediately.

She might have even sworn involuntarily under her breath.

The earl passed his medical book over to his butler. She recognised the title as one from their family shop.

“Is that Fyfe’s Systems of Anatomy ?”

“It is indeed. I purchased it from your father a few years ago. An excellent reference, I’ve found.”

She couldn’t fault his taste in books, at least.

With a gentle huff, the earl once more collected her into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

Heat branded her from where his arms made contact, even through his thick coat and her riding habit, and somehow the heat made it all the way up to her face, flushing her cheeks pink. If her sisters could see her now, she’d never live it down.