“What other thing?” Roderick asked with a frown.
“When you say for one thing, there has to be at least one other thing, doesn’t there?”
Again, Roderick had to work to prevent his laughter from erupting. “I suppose there does,” he agreed, remembering what he had meant to say. “The other thing is that I knew what you were doing because you were turned fully toward the shelves. I could see only the back of your head. It wasn’t until I was nearly upon you that I knew it was you.”
Her eyes widened. “So, you were investigating who the bluestocking was who’d invaded Lady Crossley’s rout?”
“Something like that,” Roderick agreed with a smile to relieve the insult. “I was looking to see who the kindred spirit was.”
“Ah yes, you admit to a curiosity about his lordship’s book selection as well.” She glanced at the shelves and then back at him. “Do you think they were chosen by the current earl or by another in the lineage? Or even worse, do you think they are merely fronts?”
“Fronts?” Roderick frowned.
“You know, a mere façade to fill a library.”
“Is there such a thing?” Roderick felt wounded by the very suggestion and it must have been evident in his face or tone as the woman put out a hand to his arm and patted, as though to comfort him.
“I’m sorry. I should have thought. Of course, a serious student such as yourself would no doubt be appalled by such a thing. I can tell you, even I was when I discovered it.”
“I’m not sure if I even want to know how you came by such knowledge. But I’ll never look at a library the same way again.” Roderick eschewed his nominal social graces to stare fiercely at the shelves before them. “No, I am certain these are the real thing. Surely if you were going to go to the bother of having false fronts arranged, you would ensure they were uniform in some way.” He gestured lightly toward the crowded shelves. “These appear to be an actual collection, likely amassed over time, possibly even multiple generations.” His eyes narrowed. “But I’m happy to say, it would seem the current Lord Crossley has at least a slightly studious bent, as some of these appear to be quite new.”
Lady Evangeline sniffed. “It’s possible the studious one is her ladyship.”
“That would be a delightful turn,” Roderick agreed. “You are correct, I should not have assumed otherwise.” He glanced back at the shelves and then at the lady before him. “I shouldn’t be taking all the time to study the titles. You go ahead. You were the one who started it; you really should get to see for yourself. I will continue to speak with you to cover your actions.”
Another trill of her giggle was her only response as she quickly became absorbed in staring at the spines of the books.
After a moment passed, though, Roderick recalled her attention.
“My lady, if you don’t wish your bookish ways to become further fodder for gossip, you ought to at least pretend to be paying some mind to me,” Rod pointed out with a low laugh that brought her head around with a start as a guilty flush filled her face in a rush of uncomfortable looking heat.
“My apologies, Mr. Northcott. The temptation was just too great.”
“Might I ask which field of study most interests you?” Aside from Lucy, Roderick had never met a woman who was interested in learning. Or not at least one who admitted as much.
“Oh, nothing so dramatic as my being interested in learning, Mr. Northcott. I’m not a scholar like yourself,” she excused, making Roderick stiffen slightly. “I mean no insult, though,” she hurried to add. “Much to the contrary. As I’m sure you realize, girls are not encouraged to pursue an education. And while I have a great deal of respect for those who do pursue learning, I cannot say that I have the capacity for it. But I’m curious about everything, by nature. Including, or maybe especially, about books.” She shrugged and shook her head with a gentle smile that was tinged with sadness. “I’m not terribly interested in the contents, to be honest. Although maybe I ought to be. But what makes me the most curious is what a person’s books tells you about the owner.”
Roderick was a little disappointed, but not terribly. “Especially if they’re fronts,” he replied, eliciting a chuckle from the lovely widow.
“Exactly so,” Lady Evangeline agreed with a wide smile.
Chapter Seven
Lucy should be delighted with the evening. She was certain their hostess was. It had been nearly a crush, which was almost unheard of for a rout, especially one held at such a large home. From what she could tell, everyone had a reasonably good time except for the few grouchy people who were determined to be miserable. But they were likely able to find enough sources of complaint to remain content in their misery, so it was an all-around success.
She herself had been sufficiently popular that any young lady’s heart should be singing right then even as she yawned and made her way up to bed. Lord Wiltshire in particular had been attentive and kind. There had been almost a flutter in her midsection when he’d bowed over her hand. Not that she wanted emotional nonsense to turn her head, but Isabelle would be pleased that she might have feelings stirring.
So why was she the miserable one?
Lucy had never considered herself to be the irritable sort who couldn’t be pleased with anything and never would have thought she would be more content being discontented. It had never been her primary state of being.
It was this Season business. Or rather the fact that it was her third Season and she was still a fixture in her brother’s household. Why couldn’t she find a husband and marry?
She didn’t think she was being a particular stickler. Or rather she was being, but it wasn’t for the sake of just being contrary or trying to have so many proposals to her name. It really only required one proposal if it came from a reasonable source.
She was a viscount’s sister and daughter. She ought to be easily wed.
Of course, having two separate Seasons interrupted by deaths in their extended family hadn’t helped the cause, but this year seemed like it would be complete, without interruptions from births, deaths, or illness. She ought to be in alt.
