The Librarian's Spell by Patricia Rice (ebook offline reader TXT) 📗

we have anyone who can open up a couple of rooms in the main house? Our guests will be spending the night.”

Marta nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Folkston just arrived. They came for the funeral and said they’d stay to help awhile. They’ll see to the rooms.”

Max had a feeling Morgan and Miss Trivedi would prefer a room together, but of course, one couldn’t say that in front of the servants. He was re-learning the customs of civilization.

“I should greet them.” Lydia rose.

Max suffered a moment’s panic but shoved it deep down inside. He didn’t think Miss Trivedi or Marta would be attacking him. He stood up with Lydia. “I know I’m taking too much of your time, but I hope you’ll help me with the books when you can.”

She had reacted so well to Morgan’s arrival that he hoped she’d excuse his earlier abysmal behavior. But for a brief moment, he saw her confusion and knew he’d done that to the intrepid librarian.

She squeezed his hand, nodded, and sailed out after Marta.

With their departure, Morgan instantly returned to his subject. “You’ll have to return from the dead, appear in court, and testify that David and George Franklin are fraudulently having you declared dead in order to cover up the theft of your estate.”

Max felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.

Nine

He’d kissed her. Maxwell Ives had kissed her—as if he really meant it.

And she’d liked it. She’d liked it a lot.

Had he liked her kiss? How would she know? Why was she even thinking about it?

Lydia hurried down to the kitchen to greet the returning butler and housekeeper. She enthusiastically welcomed them back and apprised them of the current financial situation. They assured her that money didn’t matter for this week of mourning. They had their little nest egg and a cottage elsewhere. But they would enjoy working again if matters turned out right.

The couple immediately set the maids to cleaning rooms for guests. Lydia felt almost giddy at the idea of visitors. Or was that the result of Max’s kiss?

She approved Marta’s menu, then located Lloyd polishing the silver.

“I’m thinking of temporarily putting Mr. Ives in Mr. C’s room. He needs privacy and time to study the tower from inside and out.” She made that part up to ease the frown of disapproval forming on Lloyd’s brow. “Perhaps you could act as his manservant?” she asked tentatively, waiting to see how the man accepted these changes.

Lloyd continued polishing while he pondered. “It’s the only home I know, miss,” he finally said. “I reckoned I’d have to move out of the tower when you moved in. I wouldn’t mind keeping my little room a while longer. Mayhap it will make it easier to accept Mr. C’s absence?” he asked, sounding uncertain.

“I’m not sure anything can help with that,” she replied unhappily. “But the little boy should brighten our days a bit. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about teaching, would you? The poor child can’t be sent to school until he’s a little bigger and knows his way around better.”

Lloyd pondered and polished some more. “Seems to me, the lad being a foreigner, that he needs a little education in being a Scotsman. I might help with that. Show him his manners and such. And Laddie could teach him to ride a pony.”

“Or a mule, since we don’t have a pony,” Lydia agreed with a smile. “That’s a truly brilliant idea. Once Bakari has a little more confidence, and he’s more comfortable with Mr. Ives, then we can decide what he needs next.”

“Roughhousing,” Lloyd said succinctly. “Boy that size needs to defend himself.”

“That, I will leave to you and Mr. Ives. I know nothing of fisticuffs. Thank you so much, sir. And know you will always have a place here. We’re family.” She thought Lloyd’s normally gloomy expression brightened just a little.

“I’ll move your things back to your room,” he agreed reluctantly, setting down the polish.

Lydia knew she was putting off the journals waiting in the library. She didn’t understand why she’d suddenly started hearing words instead of whispers. Well, she heard the whispers, too, but the words Max needed had just appeared in her head. And she’d located the volumes by following the sound. It had been an extremely odd experience.

How would she summon the words again? Was that how Mr. C had heard the books?

The voices had been more unsettling than Max’s kiss, which had been glorious and a memory to treasure for a lifetime. She should certainly never engage in such seductive activities again. His friend was in the parlor right now, either driving Max to flee or luring him back to the city. For Lady Agnes’s sake, she hoped it was the latter.

For her sake. . . She needed to pretend to be The Librarian, the dispenser of all Malcolm wisdom.

If she could not hear the voices again, would the castle revert to the Crown, like a lost title? She shuddered at the thought.

She wished she could excuse herself from dinner as Mr. C often had. Zack, the footman, had finally returned, so she had a man who could serve so Max needn’t fear the maids. But it didn’t feel right to isolate herself when Max’s friends had come to his rescue so swiftly. She needed to encourage him to do what was right, didn’t she?

Of course, standing in her tiny cubicle, looking at her three plain gowns, she thought maybe her place was in the library, going over the books she’d pulled from the shelves, like the drab assistant she was.

She’d spent most of her life being overlooked, considered a workhorse who simply kept households running. Once her daintier sisters found husbands, Lydia had gladly helped with their wedding arrangements. She’d even made herself available whenever one needed her to help during their lying-ins. She had never resented their married status in the least—because she had the library. Once she’d discovered the library, she’d found her place and been content

But now. . . she fretted. Mr. C