"No, thank you, sir. I really must be heading back home soon." Mariah said glancing nervously about her. Being in close proximity to him was playing havoc with her poor nerves.
The study was dim and gloomy and not at all pleasant, she decided. Though the heavy oak furniture and burgundy colours were usual for a gentleman's room, there was an air of gloom about the place. She didn't like it at all.
"You do not approve of the décor?" Haverton asked and Mariah realised with a start that he'd been watching her.
"I do not approve or disapprove, sir," she lied.
"Come Miss Bolton, you can be honest. I will not take offence. After all, the design is not mine."
"Well, in that case, it's really ugly," she blurted out.
To her surprise, he threw back his head and laughed aloud. To her further surprise, she suddenly had an uncontrollable urge to scramble over the desk and kiss him right on the column of throat that was exposed from his laughing.
What a wanton she was! If her mama ever learned of her secret thoughts, Mariah would never recover.
"I agree," he said now, the remnants of his laugh still on his face.
He looked a lot younger when he laughed. More carefree.
Mariah smiled tentatively back.
"Miss Bolton, I called you in here to discuss a matter of great importance," he said now all seriousness.
A lifetime of not living up to her mother's expectations immediately put Mariah on edge.
"What did I do?" she asked.
"What?"
"What did I do?"
"Nothing. Why?"
"Because in the general way of things, when people want to talk to me about something of great importance it's either a minor ailment that they think will kill them. Or it's my mother. Whom I frequently think will kill me."
Haverton stared at her once again before shaking his head and chuckling softly.
"Miss Bolton, I can safely say that you are unlike anyone I have ever met in my life."
Mariah wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not so she did not comment.
"You did not 'do' anything," he continued. "At least not to my knowledge. Unless of course you count almost killing the butler."
"I did no—"
"The reason," he went on, holding up a silencing hand, "I asked you in was to explain my earlier behaviour."
Mariah blinked in surprise and waited. This should be interesting.
Mr. Haverton gazed at her for a moment before standing and running a hand through his hair.
"Miss Bolton, as you know I did not expect – rather, I had not thought that the person recommended to me would be a woman."
"Yes, I gathered," she said dryly because she really never had been able to stay quiet in such situations.
"Yes, well, I realise that my behaviour was—"
"Rude?"
"Odd."
"Ah."
"Are you going to keep interrupting?"
"No, of course not."
"Very well. I am sure I seemed a little, well—"
"Brutish? Bad tempered? Arrogant?" she supplied.
"Alright, forget it."
"No, no. I'm sorry. I shan't interrupt again."
He eyed her suspiciously for a minute before huffing out a sigh and coming to lean against the desk in front of her.
"Miss Bolton, I am sincerely sorry for my, what was it? Brutish and bad-tempered behaviour."
"And arrogant," she whispered softly.
His lips quirked.
"And arrogant. I must say though, that I can already see how much work you've done in the library and it is very impressive. You are a diligent librarian."
"Thank you," Mariah said sincerely, trying not to sound too smug.
And then, because she really did have a problem, she added, "Surprising for woman, is it?"
"Miss Bolton, I assure you my earlier, er—"
"Rudeness."
"Yes, thank you" he said through gritted teeth. "Anyway, as I was saying, my earlier behaviour was in no way a reflection of my opinion on the capabilities of your sex to do a job well."
"Ah, I see."
He smiled in relief.
"So it's just me, and not women in general that you have a problem with?" she asked pleasantly.
His smile faded.
"Bloody hell," he muttered standing up from the desk and muttering even more oaths, some of them rather inventive as he stalked toward the side table at the window.
Mariah watched in amazement as he poured himself a very generous measure of brandy, offering her one by way of gesturing with the bottle. She shook her head in refusal. Somehow she did not think that her mother would approve of her arriving home in her cups.
After throwing back the contents of his tumbler, Mr. Haverton turned to look at her again. His face was an emotionless mask but Mariah spotted the pulse in his temple; no doubt he was working very hard to keep some emotion or other in check.