Page 45 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Thankfully, her mother was satisfied by that explanation, and the tension gripping Amelia eased.
“What did you think of it?” she asked, knowing he referred to their agreement, since there had been no fashion article.
He cocked his head, and a hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. “I definitely thought it was worthy of further discussion.It raised several interesting points, and I’d like to learn more.”
Her stomach fluttered. Surely that must mean he was interested in taking her up on the offer.
She hesitated. “There’s a tome in our library that may be of interest. I’m sure Father won’t mind if you’d like to borrow it.”
Mrs. Hart’s nose crinkled, and she looked between them, clearly uncertain whether to steer the conversation in a direction she deemed more appropriate or whether to go along with it, since the earl hadn’t expressed any dissatisfaction.
Her lips twisted wryly. “You may borrow whatever book catches your eye, my lord. I’ll leave you two to peruse the library in peace, but before you go, may I inquire as to the next ball you will be attending?”
Longley nodded. “I will be at the Studholme ball on Thursday.”
Mrs. Hart deflated. “Ah.”
Amelia understood her disappointment. The Harts had not secured an invitation to the exclusive Studholme ball.
The earl, noticing her dejection, said, “Won’t you come as my guests?”
Mrs. Hart’s head shot up, and her mouth fell open. “We would be thrilled to accept. That’s so generous of you.”
“Excellent. I shall have the arrangements made.” He turned to Amelia. “I hope you will save me two dances.”
She grinned, her heart lifting. That sounded promising. “I will.”
He emptied his teacup in a few mouthfuls, and she did the same. He took it from her and set both cups on the table; then he offered her his arm. She stood and took it.
“A pleasure, as always,” he said to her mother and led Amelia out of the room. “Which way to the library?”
“Up the stairs and to the right.”
They climbed the stairs and headed down the corridor, only stopping when Amelia gestured at a closed door. Lord Longley turned the handle and pushed it open. The library was dim, muted light coming through a small window on the far wall. The darkness helped preserve the integrity of the books, many of which were old.
“This is quite a library for a family like yours,” he remarked.
She laughed. “Common?”
He pulled a face as he released her and strolled over to read the spines of the books on the shelf closest. “I mean no offense. But a family that has a history such as mine accumulates books over many generations, whereas I assume all of these were purchased by your father?”
She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “You would be right about that. My father is an avid reader of business, science, and mathematics texts. The fiction, I must admit, he bought solely to entertain me. I also enjoy factual texts, but in my opinion, they’re best when interspersed with stories that give them context.”
He looked over his shoulder at her, something calculating in his gaze. “You are quite a reader?”
“Indeed.” Not that her mother would be pleased she’d admitted as much. Still, if they were to wed, then it was best he knew that now. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.” He trailed his finger down the spine of a book, withdrew it from the shelf, and opened it to the first page. “I must confess, I’m curious. In your agreement, you reference literary pursuits. What did you mean by that?”
She pressed her lips together and closed the door to ensure no one could overhear them. “I’ve already told you that I like to read.”
He nodded, still looking down at the book rather than at her, as if he knew that would make it easier for her to continue. She debated how much to tell him. She needed toshare enough to allow him to make a reasonably informed decision, but she was also afraid that being wholly truthful might put him off.
“I also like to dabble in writing,” she said finally. It was true, but also somewhat of an understatement. “Letters, scenes from fictional situations. Whatever catches my fancy. It would make me miserable if my husband were to interfere with my ability to do that.”
His shoulders relaxed. He returned the book to the shelf and turned toward her. “As far as hobbies go, I cannot imagine it is a particularly dangerous or expensive one. I see no reason you couldn’t continue if we were to wed.”
Her soul lightened. It felt as though a weight she had been carrying for years had finally lifted. “Thank you, my lord.” He had no idea how much this meant to her. “Does this mean you are willing to agree to my terms?”
