Chapter One
London
March 1816
Lady Joanna Mabrylooked down the corridor to the left and the right before slipping into the Duke of Northwick’s library. He had to be the most antiquated, arrogant, conceited, insufferable, condescending—no, that was wrong. She quietly closed the door and stared at it, her burgundy-colored dress swishing with her quick turn. She needed to think alphabetically. Belinda said the best way to calm her temper was to distract her mind by using the alphabet. That meant the Duke of Northwick was the most antiquated, arrogant, conceited, condescending, insufferable man she had met since her debut four years ago. Though there was that vicar when she was barely past ten, but that was before she’d been fully enlightened into the great breadth of knowledge that was so easily accessed by the male gender.
Turning around to see what books, if any, the duke might have to her liking, her breath caught. She widened her eyes in awe. The large room was lined with books. Not even a bust of Caesar interrupted the pattern of leatherbound volumes. She inhaled slowly, letting her eyes close for a moment as the strong scent of leather, wood polish, and a faint whiff of something else filled her nostrils. Was that bergamot? Citrus? Opening her eyes again, she let her gaze feast upon shelf after shelf, wall after wall, covered with tomes of knowledge. As her gaze rose, her throat closed.
How could this be? How could the Duke of Northwick, a man with such outdated opinions, possess a two-story personal library, a proverbial oasis of wisdom, a sanctuary for the human mind? She stepped away from the door, trying to comprehend the wonder before her. How was she to choose? Turning to the closest book case, she scanned the titles as she walked along it, her fingertips gliding lightly over the leather bindings as if they were delicate objects likely to break.
She halted. Andthishe would keep to himself? Did he keep his young cousin, Elsbeth, from stepping foot into such a study for fear she would learn something beyond what he pronounced all women need concern themselves with: embroidery, dancing, painting, and social graces? She pulled her fingers away from the prized books and fisted her hands in the folds of her dark gown, her breathing accelerating with her growing fury. It would be a pleasure to pilfer one of the duke’s books, and this one she wouldn’t return. It wasn’t as if he’d miss it. There may be no dust on the shelves, but that spoke to the efficiency of his housekeeper, not his time spent absorbed in the pages of so many volumes of delight. No doubt he was nothing more than a collector because it was clear his education had been accomplished in a past century. How odd, he didn’t appear that old. She snickered at the thought.
Forcibly pulling her gaze from the bookshelf before her, she scanned the room quickly to find a large desk on the other side and started toward it, her footsteps not making a sound on the soft Persian carpet beneath her feet. What books would such a cynical, mocking, narrow-minded,…hmm, ogre want near at hand? She grinned at having succeeded in her alphabetical tirade. Belinda would be proud of her. A quiet pang of loss split the irritation around her heart for a brief moment. “Oh, Bea, if only I had access to this two years ago.” Her voice sounded muted, the room absorbing the sound as if only silence was welcome in such a hallowed space. It was as if it reprimanded her for speaking aloud. Her younger sister, Belinda, would also not approve of her foray into the duke’s library for the sole purpose of absconding with one of his volumes. But Bea’s soft voice no longer graced mere mortals’ ears with its kind thoughts.
Joanna shrugged off the momentary melancholy that never failed to fill her when thinking of Bea. Instead, she scanned the bookcase directly behind the eight-foot, walnut desk. Unlike the first wall of books she reviewed, which had only subjects about plants and animals, subjects she thought herself fairly well acquainted with, this set of books had no particular focus. Her curiosity was piqued. Why would he have Radcliff’sThe Mysteries of Udolphoand Homer’sIliad,yet also have Goldsmith’sVicar of Wakefieldon the very same shelf? Could it be that these were the duke’s favorites, which he read over and over? She had one such area in the Mabry library. Shaking her head, she dismissed the idea. Someone like Northwick could not possibly appreciate Voltaire’sCandideor Paine’sRight of Man. More likely, this is where he set new acquisitions waiting to be added to other shelves by his staff. Whichever book she decided upon would not be coming back to Haven House. In fact, she planned to avoid Haven House and its owner all together.
Everything about the too-tall, dark-haired man with blue eyes the shade of the sky on a rare clear day in London irritated her like a bug in her bed at a traveling inn. Keeping her tongue silent at dinner had been a herculean effort only made possible by the constant pinches on her thigh by her older sister, Mariel, and the occasional kick to her leg by her cousin Teddy, who sat across from her. No, this book she would not return. Not only did the duke not deserve it, but he wouldn’t notice it missing. With other people, she always returned the book, making an effort to get it back to the correct house or nearby at least.
As she perused the various titles before her, an iron stairway to her right caught her attention. She allowed her gaze to rise to the top where a narrow walkway encircled the entire room, bookcases rising from the balcony to the ceiling. Why must the most beautiful and endowed personal library have to belong to her newest odious acquaintance? She had no doubt that the very man at dinner, who joked that women needed no more than a shopping excursion and a ride to Hyde Park to entertain them, kept this nirvana from his lovely cousin or any other woman who wished to partake of its riches. Just the thought of young Elsbeth, with whom Teddy was so enamored, not being allowed into such a room, had Joanna’s humors boiling. Licking her lips, she took a step toward the stairs when voices just outside penetrated the wooden doors. She froze. She didn’t worry about being caught in the library of a peer, it had happened twice before, but since she didn’t plan on returning her pilfered book, she’d rather not be a possible suspect.
The voices moved on, most likely the butler and another staff. Still, it behooved her not to tarry. Turning back to the books awaiting final placement, she scanned more of the titles.Antigoneby Sophocles was a play she’d longed to read since seeing it performed last season. She reached up to remove it from its resting place when the title next to it caught her attention.Educating the Female Speciesby Lord Ancil Rutherford. She had read and reread Mary Wollstonecraft’sVindication of the Rights of Woman,finding it a forward-thinking treatise on the education of women. What could the old-fashioned duke, who thought a properly educated woman was one who could dance and embroider, possibly want with a book on female education? Pulling the large tome from the shelf, she ran her hand over the raised title.Species. Why would some use the word species? It was horribly incorrect, which didn’t hold much promise for the book. She pondered the word, trying to fit the subject to her host.
Of course! It had to be a book on training women like brood mares. What idiocy. What ignorance. What—
The door started to swing inward, and she ducked behind the large desk.
Footsteps tracked to the left side of the room and halted. “Place the duke’s smoking materials here. This should have been done before the guests arrived.”
“Yes, sir.” The contrite voice of a manservant proved him duly chastised.
Soft sounds floated in the silence before a swish and a click told Joanna the two servants had exited the room, leaving her alone once again.
She quickly rose, thankful the servant had forgotten to set up for the men who would obviously soon come into the library to smoke after the meal. If not for him, she might have lost all concept of time. Pausing, she sniffed at the air. Was smoke the scent she couldn’t place? No, it was something else.
She hugged the book close to her chest and padded across the room. If the tome was what she expected it to be, she wouldn’t be reading it for long. It could make excellent kindling on a cold winter night though. At least it would be out of the hands of Northwick, who needed no more reinforcement. And on the happenstance that he did allow Elsbeth to come into his palatial library, at least her young mind would not be damaged by reading Rutherford’s view on the education of the feminine species.
She set her ear against the door and listened. Hearing no more footsteps, she slipped into the corridor and headed for the back entrance. Occasionally, while “borrowing” a book, she ran into a busy servant at other homes, but she had no such encounter this time. That was probably because the dinner party was relatively small. There had been merely twenty at the table, though the meal, she admitted, was of the finest delicacies.
Once outside, she hurried, the cool day giving way to a colder night. She strode toward the stables where their coachman was no doubt enjoying a whisky with the head groom. There were four coaches lined in a row, but finding the distinctive crest of a silver knight’s helmet with red feathers that designated the Mabry coach was fairly easy even in the dark. Opening the door on the side facing the house, she set the book on the seat and grasped her shawl. She was always careful to have an excuse in case she was caught. Pleased that she had succeeded, she exited the conveyance and quietly closed the door.
“Are you so anxious to leave my home then, Lady Joanna?”
She started at the deep voice behind her, her heart suddenly racing. Had he seen her with the book? Her hand, still on the handle of the coach door, tightened. Merciful Heavens, just her luck the bloody duke himself would come upon her. Forcing a smile, she let go of the handle and turned around. “Your Grace, I only sought my shawl, so I could be more comfortable while continuing the evening.”
His brows rose. “I was unaware my home was not a temperature to your liking. If you prefer, I can have more coal placed on the fire in the parlor for after our repast.”
And what if she preferred to join the men in the most beautiful library she’d ever entered? She swallowed her question, but only because of her cousin Teddy, and raised her head to meet his gaze. He was entirely too tall. “That won’t be necessary.” She forced herself to spread the black lace shawl before settling it across her chest. “This will do fine, but thank you.”
He cocked his head slightly as he studied her, his dark wavy hair falling lower on one side of his forehead with the gesture.
It wasn’t lost on her that they were clearly alone, standing in the dark, quite away from anyone but the stable hands, thereby in a highly improper setting. “Why are you out and about, Your Grace?” She raised her eyebrows in question, but wasn’t sure he could see her clearly in the dim light since the coach blocked the stable lanterns.
He, on the other hand, was clearly illuminated as he stood between two coaches. His dark pantaloons blended with the darkness behind him, as did his black coat, but his white shirt and perfectly tied cravat were a strong contrast to his tanned skin. His head straightened, and he lifted his chin, the arrogant planes of his face clearly defined. “If it is of importance to you, Lady Joanna, I was called out to look in on Venus, one of my horses who is soon to foal.”
He cared about his horse enough to break from his own dinner party and check on her? That did not fall into the perception she’d had of him at dinner. Then again, it may simply be a concern for his property. He probably looked at his cousin in the same way. “I had no idea you had such concern for your horses.” She clamped her mouth shut on her next thought, which would have solidly baited him into an argument. She’d given her word to Teddy to keep her opinions to herself, but he would be in her debt for months, now that she understood why he exacted such a promise when she, instead of her younger sister Amelia, had joined him and Mariel.
The duke, to his credit, didn’t take umbrage to her insinuated insult. In fact, his broad shoulders appeared to relax. “I did not consider the birth of a new horse appropriate dinner conversation. But if you are interested, I’d be happy to bring you into the stable to see Venus.”
