The Muse by Katherine Grey

Author:Katherine Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2012-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Emma took a deep breath and opened the door. The smells of frying ham, eggs, and freshly baked bread filled the air. She hung her cloak on the hook along the wall leading into the kitchen.

“Morning, lass.”

“Good morning, Cyrus. How is Mr. Hobson?”

Cyrus took a deep drink from the mug in his hand and tilted his head. “He seemed a mite upset that ye left early yesterday.”

“He did?”

“Aye.”

“Oh.” Emma was surprised Mr. Hobson even noticed. Whenever she managed to work up her courage to creep down the hall to the library where he spent most of his days, he always seemed engrossed in his work or staring out the window. He did seem to spend an inordinate amount of time doing that. “I’ll just go on to the parlour. I have quite a bit of sewing today.”

She hefted the basket of materials a little higher and set off down the hall, eager to get away from the speculative look in Cyrus’ gaze.

Did he know Mr. Hobson had kissed her yesterday? Surely, Mr. Hobson wouldn’t have discussed it with him. And why did he kiss her? Emma still couldn’t fathom that. Not that it was unpleasant, oh no, it was far from that. She pressed her lips together, remembering the tingling feeling when he touched his mouth to hers for that brief instant.

She entered the parlour and stumbled to a halt. She felt her face flood with heat. Mr. Hobson sat in the chair she normally used.

“Good morning,” he said as he stood. He crossed the room and took the basket from her.

“Good morning,” she murmured, feeling tongue-tied. She glanced away, turning her attention to the room. The small pie crust table that had always stood between the two chairs was gone along with the other chair. In its place was a long trestle type table, the honey oak wood gleaming in the sunlight.

“I thought it might be useful when cutting your cloth rather than trying to do it on the floor,” he said, gesturing to the long table.

“Thank you.” Emma didn’t know what to say. She’d invaded his home, forced her company on him, and yet he rearranged the furniture to make things easier for her.

Mr. Hobson set her basket on the table. “I’m traveling to Cobbs Hill today and was wondering if you’d like to accompany me.” He kept his back to her as he spoke.

“Cobbs Hill? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a very small village of no more than a few hundred people about three hours outside of London.” He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “There is a stationery store there that I purchase my paper and ink from.”

Did he truly want her company or did he feel compelled to ask her to join him because she’d insisted on keeping an eye on him? “Surely, there are any number of fine stationers in London?” she asked, playing for time to sort out her emotions.

He inclined his head. “There are, but I prefer the quality of paper sold in Cobbs Hill.

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