Page 11 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
Chapter Five
Ashford did not feel inclined to dance with anyone other than Nathaniel’s sister Alicia and Lady Charlotte, and it would not do to stand up with a debutante more than once. Lady Cairs was too much the matchmaker; he must not give the matron any ammunition.
When he was ready, he would find a suitable bride. A lady who preferred the country to town, a quiet evening with a book over lavish entertainments. He didn’t expect a love match. Merely an attractive woman who was also a good conversationalist.
He sought out Cecil, and they removed to the card room. Ashford settled at a table next to his friend to play vingt-et-un. Although he did not particularly enjoy gambling, he wanted to speak with Cecil about Thorne’s, and Cecil wanted to play cards.
“Found your phantom lady?” Cecil asked lazily, signaling the dealer for another card. He busted, as did Ashford.
“As a matter of fact, I did. We should have made a wager,” Ashford replied triumphantly. Sobering, he added, “I must have a word with you about Thorne’s Lending Library.”
Cecil shook his head and said quietly, “Another day, my friend. A ball is not the time or the place.”
Ashford was surprised at his companion’s clipped response. Even for a moody fellow such as Cecil, he hadn’t expected the man to put him off on the subject of a library.
He had little luck at cards, and within the hour, he made his way home. There had been no gossip forthcoming about Lady Lamb’s manuscript. He admitted that he’d been distracted from discovering whether Diana was in the dratted book. The culprit? A young lady and her exploits on St. James’s Street.
Nathaniel would be at the ball for several more hours as a chaperone for his sister. As the baron was extremely wealthy, his friend was wary of fortune hunters. Nathaniel openly discouraged most men from forming an attachment to his sister. Of course, Alicia’s propensity to chatter on might help with some of the dissuading.
Ashford had only one sister as well. And his mother. He’d inherited his title while in his first term at Oxford. Now some ten years later, he wasn’t yet ready to provide his mother with the grandchildren she wanted so badly.
Cecil and Nathaniel also appeared in no great hurry to settle down. He wondered if any woman could please Cecil. His friend didn’t suffer fools willingly. As for Nathaniel? Ashford didn’t think the man had met anyone he couldn’t rub along with.
Ashford’s mother was at a card party. If he knew the rumor mill well enough, she would hear about his being at Lady Cairs’s ball before he told her.
“Will that be all, my lord?” his man asked once Ashford was dressed for bed in a bottle-green silk banyan.
“Yes, Dobbs. Goodnight.”
The valet took leave of his employer. When Dobbs opened the bedchamber door, a bundle of white fur ran into the room and sat down expectantly near the warm hearth. Her tail wagged rapidly, and she wriggled excitedly as she waited for him to call her.
“Come along, Chloe,” he said with a smile and patted a spot next to where he was seated on the velvet counterpane.
Dobbs closed the bedchamber door as the little Maltese jumped onto the end of the four-poster bed.
Ashford settled under the covers of his bed, Chloe curled up on a pillow beside him. He picked up the novel Guy Mannering from his night table as unbidden thoughts of Lady Charlotte came to mind. There had been a moment when she was in his arms when all had seemed right with the world. The odd feeling had startled him.
She was lovely but no more so than many of the young ladies at the ball. Only a few inches shorter than himself, he’d been surprised at her gracefulness while dancing. Although the lady was a tempting armful, her innocence was readily apparent. She was a young lady, a participant of the marriage mart, not a widow ripe for flirtation.
Her visit to St. James’s Street had been intriguing if foolhardy, although he did admire her desire to help the proprietors of the library.
His father may have died years ago, but his words often came to mind, especially when Diana behaved like a hoyden: “Protect your good name, my son. It is the most valuable thing you own.” Although Lady Charlotte might be lovely, she was not for him. He needed a wife above reproach, a lady to set an example for Diana.
He remembered Cecil’s initial reaction when Ashford mentioned the lending library. The viscount’s eyes had been wary, his features blank. He would seek out his friend tomorrow and discover what Cecil knew about Thorne’s.
Ashford opened his book, determined to think no more about Cecil, the library, or a charming lady with coffee-colored eyes.
* * * * *
Lord Ashford quickly retreated once he’d danced with Charlotte. Her brother, to her chagrin, lamented the fact.
“What is your fascination with the man?” she asked impatiently when William commented on the marquess’s absence for the third time. The room had grown warm, and she wielded her brisé fan in an attempt to cool her heated cheeks.
William replied, “He is a jolly fellow. Top of the trees. He was always nice to me at school. Saved me from a serious scrape, I can tell you.”
It was what she had imagined. Her brother was a needy person, a character trait that had surely put Louisa off. Her father appeared oblivious to William’s shyness. Their mother supposed William would grow out of his awkward phase, but Charlotte wasn’t so sure. Her brother had clearly been nervous while introducing her to Lord Ashford.
Edith took a turn around the dance floor with William. Her brother seemed disinclined to ask Louisa to dance. She didn’t blame him. Her friend was intimidating at the best of times. After Charlotte’s set with Lord Ashford was over, she’d noticed the marquess entering the cardroom with another man. A dark fellow, very broody, and breathtakingly handsome.
