Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library (The Rogue’s Alliance #1)

Chapter Four

C harlotte’s father had begged off attending the ball that evening and was ensconced in his study at the family townhouse in Hanover Square, a glass of port and a book at his side. Her brother William had been prevailed upon to escort his mother and only sister to the ball.

“As your older brother, I suppose it is my duty,” he’d said to Charlotte with a wink.

She’d wrinkled her nose at him, not bothering to reply. William was a mere year older than her own nineteen years and never let her forget it. He usually avoided entertainments of the marriage mart, declaring himself too busy with other pursuits. She knew only too well that he was shy around young women, having been witness to his awkward interactions with her friends.

Charlotte wore a white crape frock ornamented with French lama work in silver over a satin slip. Cut low around the bosom, the crape fronts were open at each side to display the white satin underneath, the short sleeves a mixture of white satin and crape. She wore white kid gloves drawn nearly to the elbow, and white satin slippers completed her ensemble.

Their carriage ride to Lady Cairs’ mansion through Holles Street took a matter of moments as the distance between Hanover and Cavendish Square was, at the most, a pleasant five-minute walk. The weather was lovely: clear skies with a light breeze.

“Come along, Mama,” Charlotte said to her mother as they made their way up the steps of their hostess’s red-brick mansion.

“You don’t need to rush to ask the marchioness’s assistance,” her mother replied with a laugh. “She won’t be going anywhere for several hours.”

Their outerwear dispensed with in the entry hall, they entered the ballroom. Charlotte paused for a moment to take in the elegance of the scene. Flickering candles illuminated gleaming chandeliers. Potted ferns and enormous arrangements of exotic flowers were placed in front of open windows to allow their fragrance to drift through the large room.

She remembered her quest to save Thorne’s and hurried her mother to the side of their hostess.

“I would like to speak to Lady Cairs before Louisa arrives. You know how Louisa loves to tease me about my ideas that never come to fruition. I want a fait accompli as soon as possible, and we must away before Lady Cairs attempts to match me with someone.”

William blanched and replied, “I forgot the dowager is a bloody matchmaker. I shall go retrieve refreshments.”

Charlotte’s mother winced at her son’s language. When they reached Lady Cairs, her mother proceeded to speak first as she outranked the other woman. Their hostess was affable as ever, complimenting Charlotte on her dress and hair.

The lady was so effusive in her praise that Charlotte began to wonder if Villiers had an opponent vying for his place as her champion.

She shook herself out of her reverie. She was at the ball to help save Thorne’s. Charlotte sighed loudly and stared morosely at the floor. She let her mouth droop.

“Whatever is wrong, my dear?” Lady Cairs asked in a high voice, her tone one of concern. “You do not appear to be your usual vibrant self.”

She looked up and waved a languid hand. “A mere trifle, Lady Cairs. I should not wish to bother you with such a small worry.”

The older woman’s eyes widened. She looked positively delighted at the possibility of assisting Charlotte with a problem. Lady Cairs put out her hand and took one of Charlotte’s to gently pull her as close to her enormous, purple-covered bosom as she could. Charlotte found herself enveloped by not only the lady’s cleavage but her perfume as well.

“Tell me all about it, dear child. Perhaps I can be of assistance.” Thankfully for her nasal passages, the matron quickly released her hold on Charlotte.

“You will think I am such a silly girl,” she said haltingly, giving another theatrical sigh. “There is a lovely shop my friends and I visit every week. It is my favorite place in all of London and it may have to close.”

She sniffed and bit her lip. From the corner of her eye, she could see her mother put her hand over her mouth as if to stifle a grin or laugh.

Lady Cairs still had Charlotte’s hand in her own. She squeezed it briefly. “I understand. When you find an exemplary shop- I do understand, my dear. Are they good to you there?”

She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. Mr. and Mrs. Thorne treat us like their own daughters. They order the books we love and ask for our opinions on what periodicals to stock.”

“Are you speaking of a lending library?” the dowager asked, dropping Charlotte’s hand. Her voice and accompanying frown revealed disappointment that the shop under discussion was a library.

“Thorne’s also carries sundries, letter writing supplies, and so much more.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what my friends and I will do if we can no longer pass the time there. The library is near Gunter’s and not too far from Hyde Park. Thorne’s really is in the perfect location.”

Lady Cairs looked as if she didn’t know how to respond.

“Do you frequent the lending library often, Lady Faversham?” their hostess finally asked Charlotte’s mother.

Her mother started. A moment later, she recovered and replied, “I have been in the shop once or twice. I observed so many young people there I felt perhaps a more youthful patron would enjoy the library more than I.”

“Many young unmarried people were there?” Lady Cairs asked with a hopeful smile.

“Oh yes,” her mother replied with a nod. “I wonder I haven’t sent my William to Thorne’s to find a bride.”

Charlotte nearly choked at her mother’s statement. She bit her lip to hold back a giggle. She was supposed to look forlorn, after all.

“How fascinating. Come, come, Lady Charlotte. Do cheer up. I am sure this Thorne’s establishment will soon have quite a few new patrons.” Their hostess tapped the side of her nose with a finger. “I may be able to help you a little bit with that.”

“Thank you for talking with me, Lady Cairs.” She gave the woman a weak smile. “You have made me feel so much better.”

“I think your brother is waving to us, Charlotte,” her mother said and excused them from their hostess.

Charlotte followed her mother around a party of young ladies on one side of the ballroom. Ladies she barely knew despite seeing them at every social gathering of the season. She wasn’t comfortable around most of the other debutantes as all they talked about was their marriage prospects or about which male peers were the most eligible. Charlotte preferred the subject of books to men.

William stood on the other side of the group of debs, waving to her.

“I commandeered a spot on this chaise for you, mother,” her brother said when they’d made their way to his side. He gestured to a familiar woman seated on the piece of furniture. “Lady Chartham can keep you company.”

Lady Chartham was Louisa’s mother. The lady had attended finishing school with Charlotte's mother years ago. Although Louisa had told Charlotte her mother would be at the ball, she hadn’t quite believed it. Lady Chartham had rarely chaperoned Louisa this season, leaving the duty to Charlotte’s mother.

Her mother settled, Charlotte looked about for Edith and Louisa.

“Your friends are in the corner, just there,” William whispered with a jerk of his head.

“Would you like to say a few words to them?”

“No, thank you,” he replied as his cheeks turned red. “I see an acquaintance I would speak with. Do you mind if I leave you?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Not at all, William. I will look for a dance later in the evening.”

He bowed. “It would be my pleasure, little sister.”

William hurried away. She could not fault him for making his escape. Before the season commenced, he’d declared undying love for Louisa and been soundly rejected. He was now obviously uncomfortable around her friend. It was Charlotte’s dearest wish he would soon become enamored of another lady. Any lady.

Her brother was much too timid around the opposite sex. He should exude confidence whether he had any or not. The young ladies she knew declared they would like a kind, sweet man but often gravitated toward any remotely rakish gentlemen at the season’s entertainments.

Louisa caught her gaze, smiled, and gestured to her. Charlotte made her way around the edge of the ballroom to stand beside Edith and Louisa.

“You both look lovely this evening,” she said to her friends.

“As lovely as one can look dressed in white,” Louisa replied with a shake of her head, her copper-colored hair glowing in the candlelight.

“I like wearing white,” Edith said with a grin.

Edith had an exceptionally light complexion, flaxen hair, and pale blue eyes. For some reason, the color white didn’t make her disappear into her surroundings but merely served to enhance the fragility of her features and bone structure. Her waif-like look was currently very desirable in society.

“Why did your mother come to the ball?” Charlotte asked Louisa. “She hasn’t chaperoned you in some time.”

Louisa sighed. “My brothers have decided to take turns keeping an eye on me at social events. They told my mother I’m giving little effort to the search for a husband, so she decided to come along this evening and see for herself.”

“None of us are trying very hard to find a spouse,” she replied with a shrug. “We have dowries and good names. Would our parents have us jump through hoops to gain a man’s attention?”

“My father is in no hurry for me to marry,” Edith responded quietly, “he would be very lonely in the townhouse all by himself.”

To change the subject from the marriage mart, Charlotte mentioned the lending library, “I think Lady Cairs is going to help us save Thorne’s.”

“Really?” Edith asked excitedly. “That is wonderful news.”

“Tell us,” Louisa said.

She giggled. “It is mostly due to my mother. She insinuated that Thorne’s is the place for young people to find a spouse.”

Louisa gasped. “But Charlotte, we’re the only young people who go to Thorne’s.”

“Oh my...” She gulped, shaking her head. “In my excitement at the lady supporting us, I didn’t stop to think too hard about the truth. That is most definitely a problem.”

“What can we do?” Edith asked as she anxiously rubbed her gloved hands against each other.

Before she could reply, she noticed Louisa’s eyes widen as she watched something or someone behind Charlotte.

She turned and saw her brother approaching, the man from White’s beside him. Charlotte took several deep breaths to steady her nerves as she watched the man walk toward her with an easy grace that belied his tall frame. In full evening kit, he was devastatingly attractive. Although her heart was thumping heavily inside her chest, she composed her features into polite interest.

William made the introductions haltingly, his color high. “Benedict Grey, Marquess of Ashford, may I present my sister Lady Charlotte and her friends Lady Edith and Lady Louisa.”

She made a shallow curtsy and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ashford.”

Her friends echoed her sentiments as Lord Ashford’s eyes narrowed on her face. A quick twist of his lips followed.

He knew . He recognized her as the woman in rags loitering outside White’s. She saw it in his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Would you do me the honor of accompanying me in the next dance, Lady Charlotte?” the gentleman asked her, his manner subdued.

Charlotte had hardly reconciled his recognizing her from St. James’s Street, and then she was in his arms, dancing. She wondered why he would want to dance with her as she knew very well he disapproved of her lurking near White’s.

The marquess’s cologne surrounded her like a soft blanket. His jet-black hair glinted in the candlelight. She looked at a spot just over his shoulder so she wouldn’t get lost in his thickly lashed cobalt blue eyes. Although he held her at arm’s length, the proximity of his frame to hers caused her knees to feel wobbly.

“You know who I am,” she said stiffly to cover her confusion.

She felt the shrug of his shoulder under her hand. “Now I do.”

After a moment, she asked, “You are well acquainted with my brother William?”

“He was a few years behind me at Eton,” he replied off-handedly.

“And you remember him,” she replied with raised brows, moving her gaze to his face.

He nodded. “Perhaps you should ask him how we know each other. I do not wish to speak out of turn.”

Charlotte knew her slight brother had been bullied at Eton. Instinct told her Lord Ashford wasn’t a bully. She surmised he was reluctant to tell her he’d been obliged to come to her brother’s aid.

“Thank you for what you did for me today,” she said reluctantly. The man might disapprove of her, but she could show him she did have manners. “To help preserve my reputation.”

His eyes were hypnotic. Charlotte tore her gaze away. When she wasn’t looking at him, her other senses took over. In addition to how good he smelled, she could feel the bunch of muscle under where her gloved hand rested on his shoulder. No padding was necessary to make his figure appear more masculine.

For the first time during the season, she felt attracted to a gentleman. The feeling was exhilarating and also a little terrifying. Other than a desire to admonish her recent behavior, Lord Ashford didn’t appear interested in her in the least. She must concentrate on the steps of the dance, or she feared she might swoon in his arms.

“Were you spying on someone at White’s?” the marquess asked, his tone of voice serious.

Her eyes snapped back to his face to see him frowning. “I most certainly was not.”

“What were you doing there?” His expression had now softened, the tone of his voice coaxing.

“I wanted to see what makes the bow window area of White’s so special. What makes the club exclusive.” It was the truth after all.

Quite unexpectedly, he laughed softly, and the rich sound skated across her skin, raising goosebumps. When he spoke again, there was wry humor evident in his voice. “Of course. I should have thought of that. But why?”

They danced in silence for a few moments, their steps matching perfectly.

Her answer was to ask, “Why is the bow window where everyone wants to be?”

“I’m not sure it is where everyone wants to be,” he replied with an elegant lift of his shoulder. “Beau Brummell and his followers do.”

“You’re not friends with that gentleman?” she asked, not particularly surprised. Lord Ashford was no dandy.

He looked to consider her question. “We’re acquaintances. Brummell has nothing to gain by cultivating my friendship, so he has not done so.”

She understood. Charlotte was much the same way in her relationships. She had her small circle of friends, and that was enough. Although in order to help Thorne’s, she might have to widen that circle.

“The bow window is considered special, exclusive to many people. I want that exclusivity for Throne’s Lending Library.” She didn’t know why she felt the need for Lord Ashford to understand her reasoning for visiting White’s.

Lord Ashford pursed his lips a moment. “Thorne’s? I recently heard that establishment mentioned by a friend of mine. I do not recall the context.”

“My friends and I are trying to help the owners.” She paused at his startled expression. “Business has fallen off as of late and we don’t want the shop to close. We meet there every week. It is our refuge from the ton, if you will.”

“I should be happy to ask my friend what he knows about the shop,” he replied gruffly, his mood changing yet again. “If you promise not to go near White’s again. Your family would surely think your behavior was careless if they knew of it.”

Charlotte bit her tongue as her first thought was to tell the insufferable man she would promise him no such thing. She must remember she needed help to save Thorne’s. Her pride could go hang.

She replied too sweetly, “I promise. Thank you ever so much, Lord Ashford.” The music quickened, and they were now dancing the quadrille. The briskness of the steps and the exchange of partners wasn’t conducive to easy conversation. After their set ended, she took Lord Ashford’s arm as he escorted her back to where Louisa stood with William next to her mother’s chaise.

Before they reached the others, he leaned in and said softly, “If you are at Thorne’s at one o’clock on Friday, I should have some news for you.”

Her toes curled in her dancing slippers as his warm breath caressed the tender skin of her cheek.

The day after tomorrow was not long to wait for his assistance. “I look forward to seeing you on Friday, Lord Ashford.”

She felt strangely bereft when the marquess deposited her next to her brother, bowed, and excused himself. William watched him go with a touch of hero worship in his expression. She must speak to her brother about his time at Eton the next time she was alone with him.

A gentleman approached and asked Louisa to dance. When her friend had moved away, William asked with a sigh, “Why can’t I be more like Lord Ashford? Louisa would never ignore me then.”