Page 22 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
The boy was shaking, and. Ashford hoped Beaumont had learned his lesson about entering someone else’s quarters.
“This room belongs to Lord Cecil Wycliffe,” Ashford said with a grimace. “You do know who he is?”
The boy’s face turned white. William asked, his voice trembling, “You won’t tell him I was in his room?”
Ashford shook his head. “I don’t want to see you on this floor again, or I will inform Lord Wycliffe you were in here.”
“Thank you, sir.” The boy rushed out of the room without a backward glance.
Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall seeing William more than a handful of times again that year, Ashford’s final year at Eton College.
He’d never told Cecil about the incident. His friend would have turned the boy into the headmaster, resulting in William receiving a birching on his bare posterior. Everyone knew stealing for a lark was a popular activity at Eton. Even the best families had children who rebelled at school.
William was as reckless as his sister. A good reason to avoid the family from now on. Lady Charlotte had provided a momentary diversion, nothing else. A lady should not be seen on St. James’s Street, let alone dressed as a beggar.
She hadn’t been dressed as a beggar today. Her dress and bonnet had been of the first stare of fashion. He found himself wondering how long her hair was when it was down. Would it curl about her milky white shoulders or cascade down her slender back? His breath quickened as he imagined the lady daubing Tuberose perfume all over her body.
He shook himself and threw the stick for Chloe several more times before a light rain began to fall. “Come along, girl! Let’s get you home.”
When Ashford and his furry companion reached the townhouse, he entered his study, and Chloe padded along beside him, curling up on one of his boots as he sat at the large mahogany desk looking through his correspondence. He was determined not to think about Lady Charlotte.
He should look in on Cecil or Nathaniel. Perhaps not Nathaniel. The constant chattering of the man’s sister Alicia generally gave him a migraine. It was curious how the girl’s high-pitched voice irritated him when she prattled on, whereas Lady Charlotte’s husky voice had the opposite effect.
“Blast it!”
Chloe scurried out from under the desk and ran out of the room. Ashford needed to get out of the house. He required a distraction to keep from thinking about Lady Charlotte and her mission to save the lending library. It didn’t matter whether she was suitable or not. Despite how much his mother wished otherwise, he wasn’t ready to look for a bride.
Chapter Eight
Later that day, Charlotte and Louisa joined Edith for tea. They frequently met at Edith’s home as her father was often out, either attending parliament or gambling at his club. Edith’s mother died when she was a young girl, and quite against all convention, her father had raised his daughter instead of sending her to live with either of his sisters or their families. By all appearances, he adored his only child and was content to have her at home with him.
The young women enjoyed a light meal of sandwiches, seed cake, and fruit in the blue parlor of the house. Louisa made several recommendations as to how Edith could update the furnishings and decorations in the room.
“You must speak with my father,” Edith would reply vaguely after every suggestion. “He hasn’t changed a thing in this room since my mother’s passing.”
Charlotte proceeded to recount her conversation with Mr. Colburn from the day before, omitting the discussion she’d overheard between Lord Ashford and the publisher.
She didn’t understand why it mattered that the marquess was worried about the reputation of another woman; it just did. If she told Louisa about Lord Ashford’s interest in Lady Lamb’s book, she wasn’t sure what her friend might say. Louisa would probably think the worst.
Edith studied the list of books from Morgan’s Library. “I believe Thorne’s Lending Library has most of these novels. Now we must convince Mrs. Thorne to set aside a section just for female authors.”
Charlotte nibbled a piece of seed cake as Edith passed the list of books to Louisa to peruse. The cake was dry. She put the remainder of it back on her plate and sampled a lemon biscuit, pleased to find it was moist and delicious.
She recalled an invitation to pay a morning call on the morrow. A readymade opportunity to widen her circle of acquaintances and help Thorne’s had presented itself.
“I’m not going with you,” Louisa declared when Charlotte said she would accept an invitation to call on Lady Sheffield. She added with a curl of her lip, “The lady’s daughter Julia is a brash miss.”
Edith made a tutting noise. “I would be happy to accompany you tomorrow, Charlotte. It will give me an occasion to show Lady Julia I regard her unkindness to me not at all.”
The first time Charlotte and Louisa met Edith was at a ball at the beginning of the season. They stood near two young women, one Lady Julia and the other unknown to them, and happened to overhear a one-sided conversation.
“Lady Edith, you really must engage a new lady’s maid. Your hair is not dressed to complement your bone structure.” Lady Julia sniffed as she shook her head in mock despair. “If only your mother were alive. It is quite obvious you lack a female’s guidance at home.”
The other young woman’s face turned red as she opened and closed her mouth several times without speaking.
Charlotte stepped forward and gently took one of the girl’s arms in her own. “There you are, Lady Edith. Louisa and I have been looking everywhere for you.”
Charlotte spirited the girl away to the supper rooms, and the three women became acquainted over lemonade and cakes. From that night on, Charlotte, Edith, and Louisa had been inseparable. Edith had been chaperoned that evening by one of her aunts, who was not fond of London. After Charlotte’s mother received approval from Edith’s father, she willingly took over chaperone duties for Edith.
