The ubiquitous chess set was laid out on a small table between two comfy-looking armchairs in front of a fireplace. It wasn’t hard to imagine sitting in the chair, sipping tea, and playing chess with Jamie on a cold winter’s day. I shook my head. Nope, nope, nope.
“Well, the person you hire certainly has their work cut out for them,” I said. I gazed at the top of the shelves along the vaulted ceiling.
“It is one of the largest private collections in the country,” he said. “My family members, going back centuries, have one thing in common—they were and are bibliophiles.”
“Including you,” I said.
“I might be the worst of the lot,” Jamie said. He was not dressed dowdy. In fact, he looked positively edible in a white dress shirt with a cashmere sweater over it that draped becomingly across his broad shoulders and jeans that hugged his behind in a way that invited pinching, not that I would ever.
“There were always books in my life, and like any child, I loved stories.” He gestured to a case of books that I could see from the titles were folklore and fairy tales. “But when my parents were killed, books became a source of comfort. Stories were the only thing that took me out of my grief even if just for a little while.”
I softened at his words. I could see him as a young man, curled up in one of the arm chairs, trying to read through his pain. My heart did that smoosh thing that frequently happened around him so I put some space between us and asked, “The applications?”
“Yes, quite right.” He gestured to a sheaf of papers on top of a beautiful old desk in the corner of the room. He pulled out the chair for me to sit down. It was the epitome of high end office furniture, and I sank into the cushioned seat which felt like sitting on a cloud that offered lumbar support.
Jamie took the chair across from the desk, crossing his legs at the ankles as if to get comfortable. I started to read the first application, aware of his gaze on me.
“Are you just going to sit and stare?” I didn’t raise my eyes.
“Yes. I like looking at you. I like the way your hair curls about your face.”
My heart thumped in my chest and my face grew warm. I glanced up, lifting one eyebrow higher than the other. As if mocking me, a curl chose that moment to drop over my right eye. I blew it aside. He grinned.
“Are you flirting?” I narrowed my eyes. “Because friends don’t flirt.”
“Of course, they do,” he argued. “I flirt with Tristan all the time.”
“You do not.” I laughed.
“I do, too. I bat my eyelashes at him and pout my lips.” Jamie fluttered his lashes and pouted at me. I snorted. Yes, snorted.
“Stop.”
“I’ll just get something to read then,” he said. “But I’m here if you have any questions.”
“Fine.”
Moments later, he returned to the chair with a beautifully bound edition of Austen’s Persuasion. I suspected there was a subliminal message there, but I ignored it and him as best as I could.
It took a little less than an hour to go through the applications. One of which was from the visiting Canadian librarian Elise. In the end, I chose the three best candidates, not Elise, and put their applications aside. It was an amazing job and whoever was lucky enough to get it would be living a bibliophile’s dream. If it weren’t for the fact that I could never work in such day-to-day contact with Jamie, then I would consider applying for it myself.
I glanced up to find him watching me over the edge of the book. My gaze met his and held. I was not going to be the first to look away.
“Forgiven me yet?” he asked.
“No,” I said. I tapped the pile. “You have some excellent possibilities here.”
“Did you know that you hum when you’re thinking?”
“Do I?” I asked. I thought about it. I supposed I did. How annoying. “Sorry.”
“Not at all,” he said. “It’s quite endearing.”
My face heated. “Yes, well, we should probably join the others. I think lawn bowling was on the agenda for today.”
We rose from our seats. I walked past him toward the door, but he caught my elbow and I turned to face him.
“Molly, would you ever consider—?”
“No, I’m sorry,” I interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of what he might say. Spending this much time with him was a mistake. My resistance was crumbling and even though I understood why he’d left me so abruptly, I simply could never forgive the lies. Period. Full stop.
“There is no chance for you and me,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’ll never be able to get past the fact that you lied to me about who and what you are. I just can’t.”
He put his hand on the back of his neck and briefly studied the carpet. “Um, actually, I was wondering if you would consider applying for the position of librarian?”
“What?” I was shocked.
Never mind that I had just been thinking how great the job was, this was an insane offer for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which was that if I worked for him and had to see him every single day, I would most definitely fall in love with him and I knew how that would play out. Just like last time when I tried to be with a man who was used to the finer things, it would only take him a little while to discover I am not a finer thing.
“You’d be perfect.” He gestured to the shelves in the room. “This entire collection and anything else we acquire would be all yours. We pay very well, and you could live rent-free on the estate.”
“Are you telling me that your only interest in me now is as a librarian?”
“I didn’t say that, but you’ve made it clear that anything else is out of the question...friend,” he said putting emphasis on the word. “Given your talents, I thought...you’re shaking your head. No?”
“No.” I refused. Not gonna lie, his use of the word friend in regards to me stung, which was ridiculous.
I turned on my heel and stormed from the room. I was furious which made no sense. I mean, I’d told him repeatedly we were just friends so why I was so angry when he finally gave me what I wanted? I couldn’t say. All I knew is that when I joined the others on the lawn bowling green, I planned to elevate it to a blood sport.
Chapter Ten
Bri and I dressed together for the ball. It was our final night at Whitmore Estate and I for one was ready to return home. Because the ball was to be authentic Austen, we were again in costumes sent with us on our trip from the wardrobe department at the museum. Thankfully, this dress, an exquisite pewter-colored silk trimmed with seed pearls, fit better than the last. I decided I didn’t need a fichu even though the bodice was snug, and the girls were front and center. So be it. Let Jamie have a good last look at what was getting on the red-eye tomorrow and heading back to New York City.
It was where I belonged. The opulence in every corner of the mini-castle made me uncomfortable and it just reinforced what I knew to be true, that a prince—or in this case a viscount—and a farmer’s daughter weren’t compatible. I wished I’d never discovered Jamie’s true identity. I liked it better when I thought we were from similar circumstances and he was just a jerk who had ghosted me. Knowing that he was still him, charming and kind and loving, but so far out of my league, just made me feel less than and very sad.