“The biggest.”
“Then we shall have to invite her over to borrow books to her heart's content.”
“Oh, we couldn’t—”
“You could and you shall,” he said.
“Don’t you read?” she asked.
He shrugged. “My mother was the book collector.”
She paused for a heartbeat before continuing her stroll around the library. “My father spoke very highly of her.”
He nodded. He ought to say something. Anything. But he’d found that, when it came to his mother, all words seemed to wither and crumble before they could make it out of his mouth.
He supposed the same was true for his father and brother because her name was almost never spoken amongst them.
“When did she pass away?” Sally asked.
No one asked that. Well, to be fair, most people knew. But it was as if the rest of the world took its cue from the earl and his family. If they did not speak of her then no one else would either.
“Two years ago,” he said.
“Ah.”
He walked over to see her profile because she was still perusing the bookshelves. “What does that mean?”
“Hmm?”
He mimicked her vague tone. “Ahhh.”
She gave him an adorably grudging smile. “I was merely piecing facts together, that’s all.” She turned to face him more fully. “That would be right around the time that your father began to have his…”
“Episodes?” he offered.
“Yes.”
He shrugged. “It’s not as though my brother and I did not see the relevance of the timing, but that doesn’t help us to know what is to be done about it.” He let out a loud exhale, frustration taking hold as it did whenever his father was mentioned. “She would know what to do,” he muttered.
“Your mother?” Sally guessed.
He nodded.
“Hmm.”
He let out a short laugh. “You manage to say quite a bit without saying anything at all, has anyone ever told you that?”
She laughed. “Never. If anything, my family is more likely to comment on my blunt way of speaking. I take after my eldest sister in that way.”
“The one who left,” he said.
“Indeed.”
“With a...pirate?” He fought a grin because the rumors that had swirled after that fateful seaside ball had been so very melodramatic. Only a fool would believe—
“A privateer, to be precise.”
He blinked. “Oh. I—er—that is a surprise.”
She grinned. “It seems my sisters and I are not just odd for our upbringing. We have a peculiar penchant for pirates as well. We are all drawn to the sea.”
He laughed. “Don’t tell me your father was actually a pirate? Or your mother?”
Her smile slipped and he wished he could call back the words. Everyone who knew Captain Jones and his family knew that their mother had been lost at sea. “I apologize, I didn’t mean—”
“No, no,” she said, her easy smile back once more. “You said nothing wrong. It is only that…” She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes as if the correct words were written on the wall over his left shoulder. “It is just that we do not often speak of my mother.”
He nodded. “Now that I can understand.”
“Your family is the same in that sense, I take it?”
He nodded. “It’s a difficult topic to broach, and my father, brother, and I each grieved in our own ways.”
“Hmm.”
He arched a brow. “You’re doing it again.”
She pushed away from the wall with a laugh. “So I am. But I really ought to go check on Rebecca and see if your father needs anything before dinner—”
“You have places to be and important duties to perform. I understand.” He was only half teasing.
Her brows arched. “Have you nothing better to do than teach your guests how to ride?”
He stepped in front of her, cutting off her path. He just wanted one glimpse of those marvelous eyes when she was teasing him like this.
Teasing that was dangerously close to flirtation.
“I don’t teach just any houseguest to ride,” he said.
“Oh no?” She tilted her head to the side, ready to laugh.
“Sometimes I teach them how to dance, too.”
Her eyes widened. “But—”
“No protests. Tomorrow we shall tackle our next topic.”
She closed her mouth, her gaze thoughtful. “I would like to learn how to dance better before the ball. I’d hate to prove even more of an embarrassment to my family.”
“You’re not an embarrassment at all. You’re—” Perfect. Charming. So extraordinarily unique. He cleared his throat and shoved all romantic notions to the side. “You’re necessary. My father would be lost without you.”
“He would not, and you know it.”
He nodded, far more serious now. “Whether he truly requires your assistance or not, he does need you.”
She moved in closer. “He needs you as well.”
The air felt thick with emotions and attraction and memories and...it was so very intimate that his first instinct was to break the moment with a joke.
But he couldn’t. Not when she was looking at him like this. Like she saw him. All of him. “Maybe,” he finally agreed. “But I don’t know how to be what he needs.”
She nodded, seeming to understand all that he was not saying.
He realized with a start that this was the first time he’d ever felt that way—as though someone understood. As though someone looked at him and saw more.
The way she was looking at him right now. It made him want to be more.
“Sally, I—” He stopped because he had no idea what he wanted to say. No, that wasn’t quite right. He had an inkling of what he wanted to say, he just had no idea how to say it. In a family where feelings were best kept tucked away, it went beyond awkward and well into uncomfortable to try and air his emotions now.
She waited expectantly.
He cleared his throat. “I, er...I just wanted to apologize again for what you heard back there. As I’m sure you’re aware, good breeding does not necessarily equate to good manners. I wish you hadn’t heard that.”
Her expression was difficult to read. Was it his imagination or did she seem disappointed?
Or was that just him projecting his own deflation as the words that came out of his mouth
