Page 19 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
He’d enjoyed the time spent with Lady Charlotte. She was easy to talk to, and she liked reading as he did. Ashford would have to give Thorne’s a wide berth from now on. Unless he was courting an unmarried woman, he could not spend an excessive amount of time with her.
“I might well have to visit the library myself,” Nathaniel said with a lopsided grin. “Lady Cairs informed my sister it is the perfect place to meet an eligible partner.”
Ashford stopped walking to frown at his friend. “Are you looking for a bride, Nathaniel?”
The other man shrugged. “It is time I thought about the future. The war is over; Napoleon has been defeated. We put our lives on hold for long enough. It is time to live again.”
Nathaniel’s words were sobering. Although the three men came out of the war physically unscathed, family members and friends had been lost. Although he knew life went on, sometimes he felt callous going blissfully about his day when the lives of many of his brothers- in-arms would never be the same.
“Well, I wish you luck at Thorne’s Lending Library,” he replied sincerely. “As I said, I wash my hands of the young ladies and their exploits.”
“I will, of course, escort my sister there. She is such a frivolous young woman. Perhaps if she read more...” Nathaniel sighed.
“Perhaps,” Ashford replied lightly, ignoring Cecil’s doubtful look. He hoped his friend questioned a change in Alicia’s personality rather than Ashford’s resolve not to insert himself into Lady Charlotte’s activities.
“I did hear some interesting gossip today,” Cecil remarked quietly. “Lord Aberdare let drop the name of the man who is publishing Lady Lamb’s book.”
“And?” he asked, rocking on the balls of his feet.
“The publisher is Mr. Henry Colburn. The gentleman manages Morgan’s Library on Conduit Street.”
Ashford stopped his rocking and nodded. “Thank you, Cecil. Thank you very much.”
The next morning, Ashford made his way to Morgan’s Library, intent on meeting Henry Colburn and finding out what he could about Lady Lamb’s book. Rumor said the novel would be published with the author listed as anonymous.
The sky was gray that morning, matching his current mood, the smell of coming rain in the air.
A man was sleeping in the doorway of an empty shop next to Morgan’s Library. When the man heard Ashford speak to his coachman, he stood up abruptly, pulling off his hat, and running a hand through his short gray hair. The scruffy man looked oddly familiar.
“Lord Ashford? Well, knock me over with a feather.”
He recognized the man’s cockney accent at once. “Mr. Bones! It has been an age. You’re not in any difficulty with the law, I trust?” he asked with a grin. The Foreign Office had recruited Bones to infiltrate some of the smuggling gangs at work during the Continental Blockade and he had firsthand knowledge that Bones had also profited from said smuggling.
Ashford had been on a transport ship in the channel when the galley Bones was on was stopped and boarded. To prevent his boat from being burned, Mr. Bones had advised Ashford of the names of several smugglers in Guernsey, his latest home port. Bones was then allowed to continue on to Dunkirk with his illicit goods.
“I was rounded up for loitering. A shopkeeper said I was begging, but you know I never would, Lord Ashford,” the man answered with a grimace. “I’ll always find a way to make a living. I won’t accept no charity.”
The man looked thin, his complexion pale. He could use a good meal. Ashford had an idea of how to help Bones by utilizing his unique skills.
“I have a friend who could use your assistance, Mr. Bones. He needs someone who can find out things. Someone who can blend in anywhere.” He handed two guineas to the man. “Get yourself along to see Lord Cecil Wycliffe. I’m sure you’ve heard of the man?”
Bones looked down at the coins in his hand. “I’ve heard of Lord Cecil.”
“Get a hackney to number four, Curzon Square. Tell Wycliffe’s butler I sent you.”
“You always were a fair one,” Bones said gruffly before turning on his heel and walking rapidly away in the opposite direction.
Ashford entered Morgan’s library, pleased to see no other patrons in the establishment. It would not do for anyone to overhear his conversation with Mr. Colburn. Unlike Thorne’s, the library was rather dark inside, the heavy wood furnishings reflecting a desire to cater to a masculine clientele.
He inquired as to the whereabouts of the manager from a young clerk, the only clerk visible behind a crescent-shaped desk.
“Mr. Colburn is in the back room, my lord. I will get him for you. Excuse me.”
A short time later, a tall, well-dressed gentleman approached the desk. “I am Mr. Colburn. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ashford. How may I be of assistance?”
“Is there somewhere we may talk in private?” he asked the publisher.
Mr. Colburn looked about him. There were still no other patrons in the library. “The backroom contains two of my clerks at present. Perhaps we may find some privacy in that corner?”
