The Librarian's Spell by Patricia Rice (reading eggs books TXT) 📕

He wasn’t in a happy mood, she knew. She hated that he had to worry over family he’d trusted. She wanted to pat his hand and tell him all would surely be fine in a day or two, but that seemed. . . presumptuous. And he might feel as if she were an encroaching female like all the others.

“After his illness, Mr. C couldn’t write well. And I was afraid if I told anyone how helpless he was, they’d put him in an institution. I couldn’t bear that. So it’s my own fault that no one looked into matters,” she admitted.

“Your loyalty and your frugality are to be admired. Whereas I left family in charge, men who owed me loyalty, and they have either frittered away an entire fortune or stolen it, leaving women and children helpless. I should put you in charge.” He crossed his arms and glared at the horizon.

He really was unhappy about going to the city. Lydia sighed. “Well, I had to send away servants who relied on their wages in order to protect a man who was presumably wealthy, so I’m not exactly admirable. We do what seems best at the time and learn the error of our ways. Are your sons relying on the estate you left behind?”

Max snorted inelegantly. “Let my family know I had sons and no wife? I set up separate funds for each of them in the countries where they were born. Lawyers look after them.” He smacked his forehead as she’d seen him do before. “Damn—what if those lawyers are as greedy as my family? I’ll have to write. . .”

“Just tell me what to write, and I’ll do it for you,” she finished for him. “I’m not sure how you write a lawyer and ask if he’s cheating though,” she said with a trace of humor.

“I’ll think about it. If I weren’t so perfectly wretched about these matters, I’d do it myself.” He slumped into gloom again.

“You cannot do everything,” she admonished. “You taught yourself engineering despite your inability to read. You have evidently made a fortune all on your own, without need of your father’s estate. You put people in charge you had every reason to trust. The harm is theirs, not yours.”

He shrugged. “Other men manage. But I suppose they stay in one place so they can oversee in person. I thought I could walk away and live on a desert island.”

“You could have been right here in the city and your uncle might still cheat you. You don’t possess your mother’s prescience. Do you have any Malcolm traits at all?” she asked, re-directing the topic to prevent him from beating up on himself more.

“Besides animal magnetism?” he asked with a chuckle. “Not that I’m aware. I’m pretty certain my ability to do calculus in my head is from the Ives’ side.”

“Animal magnetism—charming. Ladies are not animals. And if you’re such a magnet to women, why am I not in your lap right now? Perhaps your charm has worn off.” She primly crossed her gloved hands in her skirt.

He twined his fingers and stretched his arms in front of him, exposing the grand magnitude of the muscles beneath his tailored coat. The cart hit a rut and lurched, but he swayed and stayed upright as if he were a sailor at sea.

Lydia had to clutch the side to prevent falling into him.

Max noted the gesture with a quirked eyebrow. “You were almost in my lap just now,” he said with a naughty leer. “But I take your point. Other than age, I perceive few differences between any of the women who are drawn to me. The very old and very young mostly lack interest, but you don’t fall into that category. I’ve noticed some women, like Miss Trivedi, are so firmly attached to their men that they resist my magnetism. Do you have another man in your life that I don’t know about?”

“Hardly,” she said with a sniff. “Unless you count Mr. C, but he’s dead.”

“Then it must be reverse magnetism,” he decided, flashing her that smile that turned her insides out. “I’m very attracted to you. You have reversed my poles.”

Hot lava coursed through her middle. Lydia forced herself to look at the back of Laddie’s head. “That’s ridiculous. We’ll see how well that works once we’re in the city, and you’re surrounded by beautiful ladies.”

“I have no intention of being surrounded by anyone. We’ll go directly to Hugh Morgan’s office. He’s just recently moved from Phoebe’s lair to a proper building where no one will know us. The only other female likely to be around is Miss Trivedi, who is happily attached to Mr. Morgan and barely acknowledges my existence, as it should be. We can hope that by the time we arrive, he’ll have arranged to meet a judge and keep the courtroom clear, since it’s a private matter. And I’ll find a gentleman’s hotel for the evening.”

“And Mr. C’s solicitors will certainly have no women about. Perhaps, if all goes well there, you can take the train back to the castle, and I can stay in the city and do a little shopping.” Since it was hard to speculate more, Lydia chose to admire the landscape she had seen so rarely this past year. She drank in the fresh scent of heather, absorbed the sun’s heat, and noticed Max smelled of sandalwood today. She’d added it to that last batch of soap Marta had made. She clasped her hands tighter.

She would not, could not, be one of the ladies he despised so much.

Twelve

“I cannot summon witnesses to my existence in an hour,” Max protested, pacing Hugh Morgan’s unassuming office. He tried to maintain his normally unflappable demeanor, but the pressure had him roiling like a steam boiler. “It’s been nearly twenty years since I was in school. I can barely remember the names of fellow students and certainly don’t know where they reside. And if my mother’s family can’t