Page 10 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
After a moment, she asked, “You are well acquainted with my brother William?”
“He was a few years behind me at Eton,” he replied off-handedly.
“And you remember him,” she replied with raised brows, moving her gaze to his face.
He nodded. “Perhaps you should ask him how we know each other. I do not wish to speak out of turn.”
Charlotte knew her slight brother had been bullied at Eton. Instinct told her Lord Ashford wasn’t a bully. She surmised he was reluctant to tell her he’d been obliged to come to her brother’s aid.
“Thank you for what you did for me today,” she said reluctantly. The man might disapprove of her, but she could show him she did have manners. “To help preserve my reputation.”
His eyes were hypnotic. Charlotte tore her gaze away. When she wasn’t looking at him, her other senses took over. In addition to how good he smelled, she could feel the bunch of muscle under where her gloved hand rested on his shoulder. No padding was necessary to make his figure appear more masculine.
For the first time during the season, she felt attracted to a gentleman. The feeling was exhilarating and also a little terrifying. Other than a desire to admonish her recent behavior, Lord Ashford didn’t appear interested in her in the least. She must concentrate on the steps of the dance, or she feared she might swoon in his arms.
“Were you spying on someone at White’s?” the marquess asked, his tone of voice serious.
Her eyes snapped back to his face to see him frowning. “I most certainly was not.”
“What were you doing there?” His expression had now softened, the tone of his voice coaxing.
“I wanted to see what makes the bow window area of White’s so special. What makes the club exclusive.” It was the truth after all.
Quite unexpectedly, he laughed softly, and the rich sound skated across her skin, raising goosebumps. When he spoke again, there was wry humor evident in his voice. “Of course. I should have thought of that. But why?”
They danced in silence for a few moments, their steps matching perfectly.
Her answer was to ask, “Why is the bow window where everyone wants to be?”
“I’m not sure it is where everyone wants to be,” he replied with an elegant lift of his shoulder. “Beau Brummell and his followers do.”
“You’re not friends with that gentleman?” she asked, not particularly surprised. Lord Ashford was no dandy.
He looked to consider her question. “We’re acquaintances. Brummell has nothing to gain by cultivating my friendship, so he has not done so.”
She understood. Charlotte was much the same way in her relationships. She had her small circle of friends, and that was enough. Although in order to help Thorne’s, she might have to widen that circle.
“The bow window is considered special, exclusive to many people. I want that exclusivity for Throne’s Lending Library.” She didn’t know why she felt the need for Lord Ashford to understand her reasoning for visiting White’s.
Lord Ashford pursed his lips a moment. “Thorne’s? I recently heard that establishment mentioned by a friend of mine. I do not recall the context.”
“My friends and I are trying to help the owners.” She paused at his startled expression. “Business has fallen off as of late and we don’t want the shop to close. We meet there every week. It is our refuge from the ton, if you will.”
“I should be happy to ask my friend what he knows about the shop,” he replied gruffly, his mood changing yet again. “If you promise not to go near White’s again. Your family would surely think your behavior was careless if they knew of it.”
Charlotte bit her tongue as her first thought was to tell the insufferable man she would promise him no such thing. She must remember she needed help to save Thorne’s. Her pride could go hang.
She replied too sweetly, “I promise. Thank you ever so much, Lord Ashford.” The music quickened, and they were now dancing the quadrille. The briskness of the steps and the exchange of partners wasn’t conducive to easy conversation. After their set ended, she took Lord Ashford’s arm as he escorted her back to where Louisa stood with William next to her mother’s chaise.
Before they reached the others, he leaned in and said softly, “If you are at Thorne’s at one o’clock on Friday, I should have some news for you.”
Her toes curled in her dancing slippers as his warm breath caressed the tender skin of her cheek.
The day after tomorrow was not long to wait for his assistance. “I look forward to seeing you on Friday, Lord Ashford.”
She felt strangely bereft when the marquess deposited her next to her brother, bowed, and excused himself. William watched him go with a touch of hero worship in his expression. She must speak to her brother about his time at Eton the next time she was alone with him.
A gentleman approached and asked Louisa to dance. When her friend had moved away, William asked with a sigh, “Why can’t I be more like Lord Ashford? Louisa would never ignore me then.”
