Free The Captain's Christmas Family by Deborah Hale Page A

servants’ hall.
    The captain’s recent troubles proved what a danger the appearance of impropriety could pose to a person’s reputation. Marian could not afford the slightest blemish on her character. Her livelihood depended on it.
    “If you will excuse me, Captain, I must get back to the nursery.” Clasping the copy of Robinson Crusoe tightly to her chest, she made a hasty curtsy. “Cissy sometimes wakes with bad dreams. She would be very upset if I wasn’t there to comfort her.”
    “Of course.” Was it her imagination, or did the captain also seem surprised by the swift passage of time? “I am sorry to have kept you from your duties, though I must admit I have enjoyed this opportunity to talk to someone about books.”
    “As have I, Captain.” Was that the only reason the evening had passed so quickly and pleasantly, because they’d been conversing about a subject she enjoyed but seldom had the opportunity to discuss?
    Marian edged between the writing desk that stood against the far wall and a trio of leather upholstered arm chairs clustered in the center of the room.
    Meanwhile, Captain Radcliffe moved toward one of the chairs as if he intended to sit and read awhile after she’d gone. “Do not forget, Miss Murray, you have my express permission to continue making use of this library as often as you wish. And do let me know what you think of Mr. Defoe’s book. Good night.”
    “Good night, Captain. And thank you.” Marianfled from the library as if to escape some unnameable danger. And yet, she could not deny her reluctance to part from Gideon Radcliffe.
    All the way back to the nursery she cradled the book in her arms as if it were the most precious object she’d ever held.
     
    The next evening Gideon rushed through his dinner, exchanging a few pleasantries with the young footman who served him. Afterward, he sent his compliments to the kitchen, for the chine of beef had tasted even better than usual.
    The moment he finished his last bite of pudding, he rose and headed for the library. On his way, he paused for a moment to adjust his neck linen in front of a pier glass in the hallway.
    The cloth was pristine white and perfectly tied, yet Gideon still scowled at his reflection. He had never noticed before that his face was so long and angular or how his sailor’s tan accentuated the fine crinkled lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes. He looked every day of his seven-and-thirty years, something that had never mattered to him before.
    Nor did it now. Gideon gave his reflection a final dismissive glance, then continued on to the library. When his hand closed over the knob, he hesitated an instant, making a deliberate effort to smooth the frown from his features.
    He entered the room to find a small fire glowing in the hearth, just as it had the night before. The flickering light of his candle danced over the dark, polished wood of the shelves and the rows of richly colored bookspines, many with their titles embossed in gold letters. The chairs looked as inviting as ever. The portrait of his great-grandmother looked down on him with a brooding gaze that reminded him of the way Marian Murray regarded her young pupils.
    Yet somehow the library felt much colder and emptier than it had the previous night. Gideon strove to ignore a vicious little stab of disappointment at finding it empty.
    That was ridiculous. Until recently, he’d been quite content with his own company. Indeed, he often preferred it.
    But not this evening.
    His unexpected and surprisingly enjoyable encounter with Miss Murray must have spoiled him.
    Slowly Gideon paced the length of the library, his gaze drifting over the book titles, hoping one might catch his interest. Yet even as he read them, the words ran through his mind in a meaningless litany while his thoughts returned to the previous evening and his conversation with Marian Murray.
    He almost fancied he could hear her voice, clear and melodious with that gently