"Well, why not?" he asked grinning. It seemed he was enjoying himself immensely. "I read your notes — demands more like — and they all made perfect sense. You have obviously thought hard about it, and I'm grateful."
"You are?" she asked, a little bewildered. Usually her helpful notes, which she distributed frequently to family and friends on a variety of topics, were viewed as interfering and unwelcome.
"I am. For so many things," he said and his eyes glowed in a way that set her body on fire.
He hadn't touched her since their talk, but she wanted him to — quite badly, in fact.
She smiled in response and knew that her love for him must be stamped across her face. But she couldn't help it.
A footman entered with more coffee, effectively breaking the spell, and Mariah glanced down at her plate feeling suddenly self-conscious.
"What will you do today?" His soft inquiry started her. "Continue in the library?"
"Well, I had thought to. Though, to be honest, since you've decided to keep everything, the work is practically finished. Will she like it, do you think, if she isn't that fond of books?" she asked of his mother, for whom he had obviously decided to keep the library, hoping to distract her from her grief.
"I have no doubt she will love it," he answered with a cryptic smile on his face.
Mariah frowned a little, feeling like he was hiding something but was soon distracted by a less than pleasing thought.
"Actually, if the roads to the village are passable, I-I should really return home," she said trying not to sound too heartbroken by the idea.
He didn't respond, and Mariah looked up to see him frowning at her.
But then his face cleared and he spoke again. "Yes, I suppose you should. Though I do not want you driving the gig alone."
She could argue that she was perfectly capable of driving it alone, but if it meant more time with him she was staying quiet. "You are probably right. Would you be so kind as to take me into the village with you when you run your errands?"
"Of course. However, I — uh, I have just realised that I have a pressing missive that I must send off to Carson this afternoon, so my trip to the village may have to be delayed. Perhaps even until tomorrow. I hope you don't mind?"
Mariah grinned at him, she couldn't help it. "I do not mind at all," she said, a burst of happiness exploding inside her.
His answering grin set butterflies fluttering around her tummy.
"Neither do I."
Mariah spent the morning finishing her catalogue of books. The library was truly fascinating, and she hoped with all her heart that it would bring Mrs. Haverton some joy and through her, some joy to her son. She hadn't been exaggerating when she said she was practically finished with it, though, and with a sigh, she closed the ledger on the last of her notes.
To her mind, a gentleman could live extremely comfortably on the proceeds of the collections should he chose to sell but she was delighted that Brandon was going to keep it. In any case, he hardly needed the money. By all accounts he was rather wealthier than she had originally thought.
She looked out the window and smiled at the beautiful vista before her.
The winter sun was bright today, blinding her as it hit the pure white snow.
Everywhere she looked there were footprints, some hers, dotted round the place but they didn't spoil the view. If anything it was nice to see footprints around the old manor house again.
Deciding that a tramp through the snow would be just the thing, Mariah went and fetched her sturdy outdoor boots and heavy woollen cloak then set out on a long, meandering walk.
She wasn't out long however, when a childhood memory caught her in is grip and she began making a snowman.
Mariah was so taken with the task that she did not notice the time and she spent a happy couple of hours building a rather large specimen of snow.
The problem now was that she could not reach the top to place his head on.
She had just hefted it from the ground in a most unladylike fashion when the sound of a chuckle sent her spinning round.
Brandon was grinning at her, looking carefree and happy. The sight made her heart soar.
"Allow me," he said stepping forward to take the head from her hands. He stepped to the snowman and placed it easily on top before stepping back to survey her handiwork.
"It's a little crooked," he said.
"How dare you? He's perfect."
"He?"
"Yes, he. Mr. Snow."
"You've named a man made of snow?"
"Naturally," she answered as if it were perfectly normal to name piles of snow.
"Are you done?"
"Of course not, he needs a face and some arms."
"He does?"
"He does."
Brandon gave a long suffering sigh though he was still smiling.
"Very well then, let's get him finished before you freeze to death."
Mariah was so elated at spending this time with him that she didn't question it and they both set about making him into the best possible snow sculpture possible.