Page 13 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
Members could speak for hours on their favorite issues and many chose to do so as their fellow peers sat on hard benches all the while. Ashford nodded off several times during arguments, his thoughts wandering to events of the morning. His mother had indeed heard about her son attending Lady Cair’s ball.
The marchioness broached the subject over breakfast. Ashford was startled to see her in the breakfast room as his mother habitually took a tray in her bedchamber.
After selecting toast and fruit from the sideboard, she sat across from him at the round mahogany table. A footman poured her chocolate. The dark, sweet smell of the drink wafted to him.
“When Lord Giles joined the card party last evening and declared he’d seen you at a ball... Well, I was shocked, I say. Shocked!” The marchioness looked decidedly put out that he hadn't advised her of his intention to attend Lady Cair's ball.
His mother was slim and petite with the raven black hair he sported, but her eyes were gray. He’d inherited his dark blue eyes from his father.
“I was shocked to be there myself,” Ashford replied after he chewed and swallowed a bite of ham. “I merely attended the ball to see if I could learn anything further about Lady Lamb’s book.”
The marchioness dropped her fork with a clatter against her china plate. “Any news?”
“None at all.” He shook his head. His attention at the ball had been almost entirely on Lady Charlotte.
“I also learned nothing about the book during my outing.” His mother made a tutting noise. “If only Diana would behave as a lady should. Mark my words, she will eventually bring scandal upon this family.”
He did his best to reassure her that his sister would do no such thing, although he didn’t believe it himself. Diana had been so angry at being dispatched to Bath under the care of a prim maiden aunt that she wouldn’t allow her mother to accompany her. He secretly thought the marchioness was relieved to have some time apart from her headstrong daughter.
After sessions, the evening was chilly, the sun long asleep as he and his friends stepped out of the Palace of Westminster. Cecil suggested they repair to White’s for a meal.
Ashford shook his head. “Come to the townhouse. I am quite alone for the evening. My mother has gone to Astley’s Amphitheater with several of her friends.”
“Could it be you want to check on Lady Chloe?” Nathaniel asked with a wink.
“She is my responsibility,” he replied. “And a fine companion.”
His suggestion was met with approval as Ashford was known to employ one of the best chefs in London. In addition to his love of books, he appreciated a good meal.
The three men enjoyed a meal of roasted chicken and root vegetables. The dessert course rivaled the finest restaurants of Europe and included cherry-water ice and flummery.
As they took their brandy in the green dining room, the sound of nails clicking on the parquet floor of the corridor outside the room reached his ears. Soon, a familiar bundle of fur padded into the room and crossed to him.
“Chloe!” He leaned down and ruffled the dog’s coat on the back of her neck. “Good girl! Lie down now.”
The little Maltese scooted under the mahogany table and assumed her usual spot resting on one of his shoes. He didn’t mind in the least, although his valet often complained about the damage to his employer’s shoes. And boots.
“At least she doesn’t try to chew on them anymore,” was Ashford’s standard reply.
“That little dog has you wrapped around her finger,” Cecil remarked with a twist of his lips. “You’ve spoilt her.”
Ashford raised his glass and stared at the amber-colored contents. “She is a good friend and keeps my counsel.”
“And talks quite a bit less than a woman, I daresay.” Nathaniel shook his head and sighed. “My sister is a veritable chatterbox and has a plethora of opinions, especially on my behavior.”
Ashford and Cecil made sounds of agreement and commiseration. Although Nathaniel hid it well, he thought his friend was often at a loss with Alicia. Although the baron had gone into the navy much later than most sailors, not until after he’d been at Eton for several years, Nathaniel had been away long enough not to know his sister well.
“She would fit in well in the House of Lords,” Cecil replied drily. “The chamber has far too many peers who love the sound of their own voice.”
Ashford decided it was time to broach the subject of Thorne’s Lending Library. Lady Charlotte might have been ill-advised to loiter outside a gentleman’s club, but she’d had good intentions. He could do her this one service.
“What is your interest in the establishment?” Cecil asked, his tone cautious.
“Someone I know is concerned about the business,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, leaning forward in his fiddleback dining chair.
Nathaniel sipped his brandy, avidly watching the byplay between his two oldest friends.
Cecil pursed his lips. “Your street urchin is involved, I wager.”
