Maggie whirled around in shock.
The gentleman who just spoke was a handsome man several years her senior. Moonlight filtering through the high windows turned his dark hair to a cascade of midnight blue, the tips shimmering with a touch of silver. Emerald eyes, flecked with molten gold at their core, held her gaze with an intensity that both startled and captivated. Though handsome as a prince from a fairytale, he emanated a raw power that reminded her more of a predator than royalty.
"I… I… I am here to borrow a book," she stammered, suddenly unsure of her true objective.
The gentleman scoffed.
"Why would an esteemed noble lady come to the Great Library in the middle of the night to borrow a book?" he snarled, the unfriendly look on his face intensified at once.
"Speak, wench," he ordered. "Which man are you trying to seduce this late at night?"
Maggie's lips fell open in shock, and then fury.
"I am not here to seduce anyone!" she cried out, scandalized by the impolite man's words. What an uncouth thing to say to a lady of her birth!
The gentleman did not seem to pay her indignation any heed.
"Anyway, I would like to ask you to leave this very instant," he growled. "I shall deal with the promiscuous man who hired you on my own."
"No one hired me!" Maggie ripped the hood of her cloak angrily. "I demand an apology for your rude behavior, Sir!"
The gentleman, momentarily stunned, drank in the sight before him. Maggie's auburn hair, released from its confines, tumbled down her back in a fiery cascade. Her usually fair complexion was flushed with a becoming rosiness, and her bright blue eyes blazed with fury.
Maggie expected an apology to tumble out of the gentleman's lips any moment now, but the latter remained stubborn in his conviction.
"Go now," he said rather rudely. "Don't make me haul you out of this library."
"…!!!"
To haul her, a countess, out of the Great Library for wanting to borrow a book! This man must be mad!
"I am here to borrow a book," Maggie fumed. "I will haul myself out after I find the book. Excuse me!"
The gentleman clicked his tongue in displeasure. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he left his reading spot and followed behind Maggie.
"Why are you following me, Sir?" Maggie shrieked. "Have you a dishonorable intention toward a lady?"
He shook his head in disbelief.
"Dishonor is the reason I bother to stand guard in this library, but never will I succumb to such a repugnant act."
Maggie scoffed, refusing to swallow a single syllable of his explanation. After all, this infuriating man – whether gentleman or not – had the audacity to brand her a temptress, a nocturnal siren preying on unsuspecting men!
Maggie made a sharp turn at a corner and held the oil lamp before her. She started scanning the book covers one by one, searching for a particular lecture. To her greatest dismay, she found the book she was looking for, but it was located two rows above her head.
Maggie looked around for a wooden stool to climb on, but she couldn't find any.
"What are you looking for?" the insufferable creature asked.
Maggie glared at him.
"I am looking for a wooden stool, Sir. Now if you will please excuse me, I need to go and find one."
The gentleman rolled with his eyes.
"What book do you wish to fetch?" he asked in a weary voice. "Allow me to assist you."
"No need!"
"I said, allow me to assist you," he growled, his voice growing several notes deeper.
As he walked past Maggie, she could swear that she heard him murmur something about "stubborn women".
"Which one?" he asked again.
The man was tall. Very tall indeed. Even without standing on tiptoe, he could reach the row Maggie's hand failed to reach.
"The one by Robert E. Wallace, 'The Essential Guide to Tax Management and Estate Planning'."
With practiced ease, he hoisted the hefty tome, one large hand gauging its weight before effortlessly transferring it to Maggie. She, in contrast, needed both hands to cradle its bulk. A shadow of suspicion lingered in his eyes as he followed her back to the library entrance. The Countess, her posture rigid with contained fury, scrawled her name at the bottom of the existing list. With a resounding thud, she slammed the archive register shut, a final icy glare scorching the uncouth figure behind her.
"Thank you for the help," she snapped, her words stemming from good manners rather than actual gratitude. "Farewell."
She proceeded to stomp away, only to return to the library not a minute later to retrieve her coat. When she saw that the hateful person had not moved away from the entrance area, she decided to give him a piece of her mind.
"And by the way, just so that you know, I am a betrothed woman," she snapped. "So you should stop assuming the worst of ladies you know nothing about!"
With a determined toss of her head, Maggie sent her hair cascading down her back. Leaving her cloak to billow dramatically behind her, she strode out like a victor, nothing less than that.
The man scoffed and rolled with his eyes again in exasperation. And then, he returned to his reading spot.
Unseen by the Countess, the gentleman's keen eyes followed her departing figure through the high windows. An interesting thought crossed his mind, prompting him to peel himself off his seat a second time and march toward the entrance to sneak a peek at the archive register.
Written in neat cursive letters was her full name, Marguerite Delaney Antoine Blanchard, Countess of Huntington.
Surprise, tinged with a hint of something more complex, flickered across his face when he grasped her identity.
The month passed safely, and finally, the time to leave Cavendish Academy for good had come. Maggie exchanged loving hugs with her close friends, all the while harvesting promises for future visits and agreeing to attend invitations to upcoming tea parties and balls in their respective homes.
Maggie could not wait to begin her life as Countess of Huntington for real.
And yet, when she arrived at her estate after long hours in the carriage, the gates were locked and she was denied entry.