Several people in the group blinked their astonishment.
“That should not be allowed,” Mr. Johnson stated.
“There should be a law,” Mr. Knox chimed in.
“Surely someone here knows someone in Parliament,” Mrs. Waddington said. “Someone who could see to it that books must be credited correctly? Else we’ll be having just anyone writing books, claiming they’re experts on a topic when they are really charlatans out to make money off the book buying public.” She directed her gaze to Catherine. “Surely you know a lord.”
Catherine blinked. “If I do, I’m quite unaware of it,” she countered. “As we’ve discussed before, I am of the opinion this country should do away with the House of Lords. They do nothing to help those who aren’t landowners.”
“Hear, hear,” Mr. Johnson said, nodding enthusiastically.
“Then who would make the laws?” Mrs. Peabody asked.
“We have a House of Commons,” Mr. Knox stated. “Representing the people.”
“You meanmen,” Miss Tuttle said, her voice barely audible.
Resisting the urge to titter, Catherine had to cover her mouth as she inhaled and let her breath out slowly. “Well, should someearl or viscount decide to makemetheir wife, I’ll be sure to request they pass such a law.”
The others seemed shocked by her claim until they realized she was teasing them. She had made it quite clear during past meetings that she had no intention of marrying—especially not to an aristocrat. A round of titters and chuckles sounded before they returned their discussion to another book.
When the clock on the mantel struck four o’clock, the group dutifully rose from the seats and bade their farewells to their hostess.
Catherine joined them for the trip down the stairs and to the front door. “Where should we meet next?” she asked.
“I can host,” Mrs. Peabody offered. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
The others nodded and filed out the door, all except for Eliza.
“Does the offer to stay for dinner still stand?” she asked.
“Of course. I’ve been counting on it all day,” Catherine replied. She motioned for Eliza to join her as she headed for the stairs.
“I was quite amused by your comment about marrying a lord,” Eliza said.
“I was being ridiculous,” Catherine admitted, sobering when she noted her friend’s expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I wish to remarry. I want to be a mother,” Eliza replied.
“I know,” Catherine said. “But I thought you had your attentions on someone. My father, perhaps?” She waggled her brows.
Eliza inhaled softly. “I know he’s older—”
“He’s twice your age.”
“But he’s quite handsome, and I’ve known him for so long. Since before I married Aloysius,” she commented, referring to her late husband.
“He’s been a widower for so long, I never thought about him marrying again,” Catherine replied. “Perhaps I could drop a hint on your behalf?”
Eliza blushed, her cheeks matching the color of her spencer. “Perhaps,” she hedged. She pointed to one of the doors near the top of the stairs. “I thought it interesting you didn’t offer to show your father’s new library to the literary society.”
Dipping her head, Catherine said, “I thought about it, but I feared once they went in there, they wouldn’t leave.”
“Oh,” Eliza breathed. “Now you really must show me what you’ve done with all his books.”
Catherine led her into the recently enlarged and rearranged library. A wall separating the original library from a guest bedchamber had been removed, and newly installed floor to ceiling bookshelves lined all four walls. A number of free-standing, shorter bookshelves had been built and lined up in the middle of the room. At the end of each were glass-covered cases containing collections of ephemera and rare editions of books.
Eliza inhaled deeply, her nose wrinkling at the scent of old leather and the hint of mildew. “You did all this?” she asked in awe.
