Page 10 of Beguiling the Baron

Direct conflict with the man who held the Wyndhams’ fate in his hands? Not a good plan. She would have to see if she could draw him out somehow, make her presence less odious to him.

Glancing at the portrait above the fireplace, she began conversationally, “Who’s the artist? They’re a true master of their craft.”

“You’d recognize a master’s hand, would you?”

She shot him a sharp look, but his face remained impassive.

“I’m educated well enough to know about art, my lord. You wouldn’t have employed me to teach Polly if you thought otherwise. I used to visit all the exhibitions—”

He waved her into silence. “I don’t mean to indulge in conversation, Miss Wyndham. I’m waiting for you to leave.”

What abominable rudeness! Fissures started to appear in her resolve.

“Of course, I’ll quit your study if I’m disturbing you. But I’d like to be allowed to make use of your library. Some of the books will complement Polly’s studies.”

“No.”

The fissures became chasms.

“I promise I’ll do nothing to disturb you.” She strove to keep the terseness from her voice.

“I said no.”

Tia chewed on her lip. Handsome as a statue of a Greek god. With a heart as hard as marble. But she wasn’t prepared to give up. Yet.

“I can always send a servant for a book,” she offered. “You must allow your staff up here.”

One dark brow lifted. It was the first sign he’d given of any real emotion.

“You can hardly expect my servants to recognize a name like ‘Aeschylus’ when they see it written down, or ‘Euripides.’ Fetch you a book they will,” he informed her, “but it won’t be the one you sent for.”

Two sentences from the implacable Lord Ansford? This could almost be considered progress.

“If I wrote the title down for them, clearly and carefully,” she persisted, “they would be able to match it up with the appropriate book.”

The other eyebrow joined its fellow. “Do you have any idea how long it would take a servant to match up your writing to the book title? No, I want as little disturbance as possible. I cannot have footmen with lighted lamps poring for hours through my library. It is unthinkable.”

It might be unthinkable now, but she would find a way.

Let’s see who of the two of us is the most immovable.

She bowed her head, a polite but insincere acknowledgment of his victory. “Good morning, my lord. Perhaps we may see you at dinner?”

She was hoping no such thing, for his presence would cast a pall of gloom across the table and make every dish taste like ashes.

He made no reply as she eased past him and made for the door. His indifference infuriated her more than his anger might have done.

She didn’t like failing to make an impression, she didn’t like feeling unwanted, and more than anything she hated not being accorded the common courtesies. Her benefactor was a damnable fellow, and she had no desire to set eyes on him ever again, or listen to his colorless voice, or see his emotionless face.

Yet Tia couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder to see if her defiance had wrought any change in the man’s demeanor, elicited any expression he didn’t want her to see.

No. He’d simply turned his back on the door and was staring up at the portrait, as impervious to Tia as he was to the rest of the world. And if she didn’t like being ignored, well, it was her cross to bear.

But the lure of that library—

For her own sake, as much as for Polly’s, she would have to find some way around Lord Ansford’s nonsensical rules. Otherwise, her future life at Foxleaze Abbey was going to be frustrating in the extreme.