Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Standing I held out a hand to Miriam. “Take a walk with me. Let’s enjoy the sunshine for it is England, and at any moment, the rain may come.”
Miriam placed her gloved hand in mine and stood up. “Sounds like an excellent idea. Although I am not sure the rain will come today. There is not a cloud in the sky,” she replied.
I felt the moisture in the breeze and knew it would be here sooner than either of us wanted it to be. “Regardless, let’s enjoy the moment,” I said.
Miriam walked beside me as I thought of a topic of conversation that would take my mind from the previous things we had spoken of. The smell of roses caught the breeze and it was if the air was but their perfume. I watched as Miriam inhaled deeply, taking in their scent. I was sure I’d never seen a sight as lovely as she. Sunlight often highlighted the imperfections on one’s face, yet with her, it just brightened the purity of her beauty. I could be happy with her. Not just because I was attracted to her outward appearance but because she was a female I truly enjoyed being around. I sought out her presence and desired her conversation.
“Tell me, Miriam, what is your favorite piece of literature?” I asked her, realizing again how little I knew of the things that delighted her. I was sure no one had ever taken the time to find out what they were and I wanted to know. I wanted her to feel like she mattered. Her dreams, her joys, her dislikes, they all mattered.
“Justine ,” she replied.
“Truly?” I asked surprised by her response. I was unsure if she was but teasing me or if this was, in fact, her favorite novel.
Miriam smirked. “So you’ve read it?” she asked me.
“I have. Like you I too enjoy reading.”
“Even Marquis de Sade?” she asked with an amused tone.
“Especially Marquis de Sade,” I assured her and that caused her to laugh. It was a sound I was sure I would never tire of and felt a moment of melancholy at the idea I might not always hear it.
“Tis nothing but a miracle Mother never found the book in my room. I found it in my father’s library after his death. Mother has no interest in reading and never went in there herself. I don’t even know if she would know the plot of the book, but for fear she had heard gossip among the shallow-minded, I took it and hid it in my room. I lost three nights sleep unable to put it down.”
I pictured a younger Miriam hiding in her room with candlelight, reading Justine while others were sleeping and couldn’t help but smile. It was rather adventurous for someone any younger than she was now. However, knowing she’d read it and enjoyed it also stirred me in a way that was not good for either of us.
“And what is yours, my lord?” she asked me then.
“Ashington ,” I reminded her.
“Ashington ,” she repeated.
“I must say that my favorite novel has recently become Justine by The Marquis de Sade,” I replied honestly.
Miriam laughed loudly this time and the pleasure from being the one to make her laugh with such freedom was rather intense. She was becoming more than I had planned for and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I wanted Miriam Bathurst in my life and in my bed. I just needed her to want me for herself. Not because I would be exactly what everyone in her life wanted.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Miriam Bathurst
Whitney had been ready to explore by Sunday morning after breakfast. I still wasn’t sure if she had been ill or if she had simply been giving me time to be with Ashington alone. As grateful as I was for the time I had spent with him getting to know him, I was more relieved by Whitney’s recovery. However, tomorrow we would leave for London and I worried about her making that trip again so soon if, in fact, the first trip had put her to bed.
I enjoyed watching her talk to the horses in the stable as if they were as human as she and the way she inhaled the perfumed air as we walked through the rose garden. She was truly taken in by the splendor of Chatwick Hall, and even if I was here only for the reason I suspected, I was still thankful she had been given this experience. It was one of her many dreams to live in a place such as this.
While Whitney studied the different roses, calling out a different type of rose with excitement when she found them, I watched the forest in the back of the property where I knew a path was well-disguised. I thought of Emma and what she may be doing today. It had yet to rain, which was a rare gift and the sunshine was out again with but a few clouds. Yesterday, I had thought Ashington would mention her or possibly take me to meet her but neither happened.