How odd that she was now a member of a select group of individuals who might have a special way of holding a book. Except really, she was not, which was why she hadn’t a clue how to hold the thing.
“I’ve had an invitation to the Cheltenham soiree next week,” Lord Tarrington said gruffly, not commenting on her holding of the book.
Lydia’s brows rose. Perhaps she would see the star of her daydreams again after all. That elicited some flurry of activity in her chest.
“If we can secure a closer connection with that family, it would be ideal. Do not make a fool of yourself.”
How could she possibly make a fool of herself? She was able to properly hold a book now. She could take on the world.
So long as no punch was near.
She glanced down at the book in her hands. It appeared terribly dull. Could she manage to draw her guardian into conversation instead? She cleared her throat. “Do you enjoy London?”
“It is a necessary part of my title and responsibilities.” He had actually answered. She was nearly struck dumb at that, but she had to take advantage of the brief glimpse of humanity he was giving her.
“I imagine it is a heavy responsibility to be a baron.”
His eyes were particularly serious when they settled on her. They seemed to be taking her measure. “It is. Most are not capable.”
She nodded. “Do you... have any family?” Someone must have raised him to take on the role—and she’d like to give them a piece of her mind on the raising of a man with apparently no humor or happiness.
“No.”
“Did you have any siblings growing up?”
“A brother.”
She leaned back into her chair. “I’d always thought having an older brother would have been very entertaining.”
“He was younger than I and an idiot.” His voice was clipped.
“Oh.”
“Go on, then,” Lord Tarrington grumbled, pointing at the book and very clearly informing her that he was done speaking of himself.
“Yes, of course.” She opened the book and began to read but had only made it two pages before the butler opened the door to the library. Back straight, he addressed Lord Tarrington. “A Mr. Sperry to see you, my lord.”
Tarrington’s face registered confusion. “Who?”
“Mr. Sperry, my lord. A solicitor.”
“What am I to do with a solicitor?” Tarrington grumbled, coughing into his handkerchief, then raising a brow at his butler.
“Would you like me to turn him away, my lord?”
Tarrington shook his head, shifting himself to the edge of his chair, where he pushed up to a stand with effort. “No. No, I will see him. Put him in the study.”
“Very well, my lord.”
Her guardian gestured at her as he made for the door. “Mark your spot. We will finish later.” Without a backward glance, he left.
Her lips pursed at the abrupt dismissal, but it meant renewed freedom to choose her own book, which she did, finding one that looked interesting and leaving the library. Boring as her room may be, she did not particularly want to be found in the library and forced to take back up the canal book. She could not say she’d ever wished to learn what went into the execution, building, and use of canals.
“I am sure I do not understand, my lord. I am under strict requirements to speak only to Miss Faraday. Is she not in residence?”
Lydia stopped at the sound of her name, freezing in front of the door to Lord Tarrington’s study. She did not recognize the voice within.
“She is, but you are not at liberty to speak with her.”
