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

Chapter Five

A shford did not feel inclined to dance with anyone other than Nathaniel’s sister Alicia and Lady Charlotte, and it would not do to stand up with a debutante more than once. Lady Cairs was too much the matchmaker; he must not give the matron any ammunition.

When he was ready, he would find a suitable bride. A lady who preferred the country to town, a quiet evening with a book over lavish entertainments. He didn’t expect a love match. Merely an attractive woman who was also a good conversationalist.

He sought out Cecil, and they removed to the card room. Ashford settled at a table next to his friend to play vingt-et-un. Although he did not particularly enjoy gambling, he wanted to speak with Cecil about Thorne’s, and Cecil wanted to play cards.

“Found your phantom lady?” Cecil asked lazily, signaling the dealer for another card. He busted, as did Ashford.

“As a matter of fact, I did. We should have made a wager,” Ashford replied triumphantly. Sobering, he added, “I must have a word with you about Thorne’s Lending Library.”

Cecil shook his head and said quietly, “Another day, my friend. A ball is not the time or the place.”

Ashford was surprised at his companion’s clipped response. Even for a moody fellow such as Cecil, he hadn’t expected the man to put him off on the subject of a library.

He had little luck at cards, and within the hour, he made his way home. There had been no gossip forthcoming about Lady Lamb’s manuscript. He admitted that he’d been distracted from discovering whether Diana was in the dratted book. The culprit? A young lady and her exploits on St. James’s Street.

Nathaniel would be at the ball for several more hours as a chaperone for his sister. As the baron was extremely wealthy, his friend was wary of fortune hunters. Nathaniel openly discouraged most men from forming an attachment to his sister. Of course, Alicia’s propensity to chatter on might help with some of the dissuading.

Ashford had only one sister as well. And his mother. He’d inherited his title while in his first term at Oxford. Now some ten years later, he wasn’t yet ready to provide his mother with the grandchildren she wanted so badly.

Cecil and Nathaniel also appeared in no great hurry to settle down. He wondered if any woman could please Cecil. His friend didn’t suffer fools willingly. As for Nathaniel? Ashford didn’t think the man had met anyone he couldn’t rub along with.

Ashford’s mother was at a card party. If he knew the rumor mill well enough, she would hear about his being at Lady Cairs’s ball before he told her.

“Will that be all, my lord?” his man asked once Ashford was dressed for bed in a bottle-green silk banyan.

“Yes , Dobbs . Goodnight.”

The valet took leave of his employer. When Dobbs opened the bedchamber door, a bundle of white fur ran into the room and sat down expectantly near the warm hearth. Her tail wagged rapidly, and she wriggled excitedly as she waited for him to call her.

“Come along, Chloe,” he said with a smile and patted a spot next to where he was seated on the velvet counterpane.

Dobbs closed the bedchamber door as the little Maltese jumped onto the end of the four-poster bed.

Ashford settled under the covers of his bed, Chloe curled up on a pillow beside him. He picked up the novel Guy Mannering from his night table as unbidden thoughts of Lady Charlotte came to mind. There had been a moment when she was in his arms when all had seemed right with the world. The odd feeling had startled him.

She was lovely but no more so than many of the young ladies at the ball. Only a few inches shorter than himself, he’d been surprised at her gracefulness while dancing. Although the lady was a tempting armful, her innocence was readily apparent. She was a young lady, a participant of the marriage mart, not a widow ripe for flirtation.

Her visit to St. James’s Street had been intriguing if foolhardy, although he did admire her desire to help the proprietors of the library.

His father may have died years ago, but his words often came to mind, especially when Diana behaved like a hoyden: “Protect your good name, my son. It is the most valuable thing you own.” Although Lady Charlotte might be lovely, she was not for him. He needed a wife above reproach, a lady to set an example for Diana.

He remembered Cecil’s initial reaction when Ashford mentioned the lending library. The viscount’s eyes had been wary, his features blank. He would seek out his friend tomorrow and discover what Cecil knew about Thorne’s.

Ashford opened his book, determined to think no more about Cecil, the library, or a charming lady with coffee-colored eyes.

* * * * *

L ord Ashford quickly retreated once he’d danced with Charlotte. Her brother, to her chagrin, lamented the fact.

“What is your fascination with the man?” she asked impatiently when William commented on the marquess’s absence for the third time. The room had grown warm, and she wielded her brisé fan in an attempt to cool her heated cheeks.

William replied, “He is a jolly fellow. Top of the trees. He was always nice to me at school. Saved me from a serious scrape, I can tell you.”

It was what she had imagined. Her brother was a needy person, a character trait that had surely put Louisa off. Her father appeared oblivious to William’s shyness. Their mother supposed William would grow out of his awkward phase, but Charlotte wasn’t so sure. Her brother had clearly been nervous while introducing her to Lord Ashford.

Edith took a turn around the dance floor with William. Her brother seemed disinclined to ask Louisa to dance. She didn’t blame him. Her friend was intimidating at the best of times. After Charlotte’s set with Lord Ashford was over, she’d noticed the marquess entering the cardroom with another man. A dark fellow, very broody, and breathtakingly handsome.

“Oh my!” Edith fanned herself. “Have you ever seen such a handsome man? He is with that Lord Ashford fellow you danced with, Charlotte.”

Louisa craned her neck to see of whom Edith spoke. Her eyes widened a moment as she fairly gawked at the man.

“Louisa? Louisa are you all right?” she asked her friend.

The other girl adopted a bored expression when she turned to look at Charlotte. “Oh yes. For a moment, I thought I knew the man. I was mistaken.”

Charlotte didn’t quite believe her. Louisa never gave any gentleman a second look but was now surreptitiously stealing glances at Lord Ashford’s companion as he strode to the gaming room and entered it. She wondered if Lord Ashford’s friend was as judgmental as the dark-haired, elegant marquess.

She knew it would do no good to tease Louisa about the mysterious gentleman as her friend was an intensely private person. Charlotte believed it came from having so many older brothers.

“Lord Ashford heard some chatter about Thorne’s Lending Library. He will find out what he can and discuss it with me at the library on Friday,” she said to her friends.

“You made an assignation with a man you just met?” Edith asked, her eyes wide.

Charlotte briefly explained her encounter with Lord Ashford outside of White’s.

When she’d finished her story, Edith asked, “He is the same gentleman who escorted you to your father’s carriage? How odd that we’ve not encountered him at any of the season’s entertainments, and now he appears at Lady Cairs ball.”

Louisa’s attention was now entirely on Charlotte. “Why would Lord Ashford help us?”

She shrugged and replied casually, “He is intrigued by our mission. How exciting can a gentleman’s life be? Perhaps he is looking for a diversion.” Louisa did not need to know about the bargain she’d struck with Lord Ashford.

“His life is more exciting than ours,” Edith countered, rolling her eyes. “He can sit in parliament and go where he wishes without a chaperone. The world is his oyster.”

“As long as he doesn’t want a diversion with you , Charlotte. You know nothing about him.” Louisa added thoughtfully, “I could ask my brothers what they know of his character.”

“You will do no such thing,” she replied, horrified. “Your brothers might scare the marquess off. We could use his help.”

Edith shook her head. “Your Lord Ashford doesn’t look like a man to scare easily.”

“He isn’t ‘my’ Lord Ashford.”

“Charlotte, you may be the only lady he danced with tonight,” Louisa replied archly.

“I think he was merely concerned about my being on St. James’s Street.” She kept her voice even although she was irritated anew thinking about how the man had spoken to her as if she were a naughty child. Without thinking, she added, “Lord Ashford warned me not to be so reckless in future.”

“Concerned, was he?” Edith asked with a grin.

Edith was their resident romantic. She loved politics and debate, but she also loved a good romance.

Now that Charlotte thought back upon the marquess’s warning, she didn’t believe he’d sounded romantically concerned at all. He had come across as a scolding older brother. She shrugged off a sudden malaise and accepted an unexpected invitation to dance from a young viscount.

As the season wore on, her partners had become older. She liked to believe it was because the young bucks found her intimidating. Perhaps they merely found her boring. After the set, her hand was again claimed by another young man. Resigned to her place as a bluestocking wallflower, she wondered if Lady Cairs had somehow coerced so many young men into dancing with her.

Charlotte routinely asked her dance partners about their taste in books. “What do you enjoy reading?”

Too often, the response was a frown accompanied by the words: “The news sheets.”

If she asked Lord Ashford about reading and found he also appreciated books, she would probably fall in love with him on the spot.

Soon after midnight, she asked her brother to escort her and their mother home. She was tired from her early start that morning. As Edith and Louisa had engagements the next day, the friends would meet up two days from now. On Friday. At Thorne’s.

Charlotte told herself she wasn’t at all excited about seeing the attractive and maddening Lord Ashford again. She merely wanted to hear what gossip was going around about Thorne’s Lending Library.

* * * * *

T he next day’s session in parliament was mind-numbing. The Whig lawyer and MP Henry Brougham had been successful in defeating the return of the property tax and several members of the House of Lords chose to continue to grumble about it in chambers.

Members could speak for hours on their favorite issues and many chose to do so as their fellow peers sat on hard benches all the while. Ashford nodded off several times during arguments, his thoughts wandering to events of the morning. His mother had indeed heard about her son attending Lady Cair’s ball.

The marchioness broached the subject over breakfast. Ashford was startled to see her in the breakfast room as his mother habitually took a tray in her bedchamber.

After selecting toast and fruit from the sideboard, she sat across from him at the round mahogany table. A footman poured her chocolate. The dark, sweet smell of the drink wafted to him.

“When Lord Giles joined the card party last evening and declared he’d seen you at a ball... Well, I was shocked, I say. Shocked!” The marchioness looked decidedly put out that he hadn't advised her of his intention to attend Lady Cair's ball.

His mother was slim and petite with the raven black hair he sported, but her eyes were gray. He’d inherited his dark blue eyes from his father.

“I was shocked to be there myself,” Ashford replied after he chewed and swallowed a bite of ham. “I merely attended the ball to see if I could learn anything further about Lady Lamb’s book.”

The marchioness dropped her fork with a clatter against her china plate. “Any news?”

“None at all.” He shook his head. His attention at the ball had been almost entirely on Lady Charlotte.

“I also learned nothing about the book during my outing.” His mother made a tutting noise. “If only Diana would behave as a lady should. Mark my words, she will eventually bring scandal upon this family.”

He did his best to reassure her that his sister would do no such thing, although he didn’t believe it himself. Diana had been so angry at being dispatched to Bath under the care of a prim maiden aunt that she wouldn’t allow her mother to accompany her. He secretly thought the marchioness was relieved to have some time apart from her headstrong daughter.

After sessions, the evening was chilly, the sun long asleep as he and his friends stepped out of the Palace of Westminster. Cecil suggested they repair to White’s for a meal.

Ashford shook his head. “Come to the townhouse. I am quite alone for the evening. My mother has gone to Astley’s Amphitheater with several of her friends.”

“Could it be you want to check on Lady Chloe?” Nathaniel asked with a wink.

“She is my responsibility,” he replied. “And a fine companion.”

His suggestion was met with approval as Ashford was known to employ one of the best chefs in London. In addition to his love of books, he appreciated a good meal.

The three men enjoyed a meal of roasted chicken and root vegetables. The dessert course rivaled the finest restaurants of Europe and included cherry-water ice and flummery.

As they took their brandy in the green dining room, the sound of nails clicking on the parquet floor of the corridor outside the room reached his ears. Soon, a familiar bundle of fur padded into the room and crossed to him.

“Chloe!” He leaned down and ruffled the dog’s coat on the back of her neck. “Good girl! Lie down now.”

The little Maltese scooted under the mahogany table and assumed her usual spot resting on one of his shoes. He didn’t mind in the least, although his valet often complained about the damage to his employer’s shoes. And boots.

“At least she doesn’t try to chew on them anymore,” was Ashford’s standard reply.

“That little dog has you wrapped around her finger,” Cecil remarked with a twist of his lips. “You’ve spoilt her.”

Ashford raised his glass and stared at the amber-colored contents. “She is a good friend and keeps my counsel.”

“And talks quite a bit less than a woman, I daresay.” Nathaniel shook his head and sighed. “My sister is a veritable chatterbox and has a plethora of opinions, especially on my behavior.”

Ashford and Cecil made sounds of agreement and commiseration. Although Nathaniel hid it well, he thought his friend was often at a loss with Alicia. Although the baron had gone into the navy much later than most sailors, not until after he’d been at Eton for several years, Nathaniel had been away long enough not to know his sister well.

“She would fit in well in the House of Lords,” Cecil replied drily. “The chamber has far too many peers who love the sound of their own voice.”

Ashford decided it was time to broach the subject of Thorne’s Lending Library. Lady Charlotte might have been ill-advised to loiter outside a gentleman’s club, but she’d had good intentions. He could do her this one service.

“What is your interest in the establishment?” Cecil asked, his tone cautious.

“Someone I know is concerned about the business,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, leaning forward in his fiddleback dining chair.

Nathaniel sipped his brandy, avidly watching the byplay between his two oldest friends.

Cecil pursed his lips. “Your street urchin is involved, I wager.”

“She is.” He raised a brow. “And her name is Lady Charlotte. She is Lord Faversham’s daughter.”

There was an edge to his voice. After meeting Lady Charlotte, he could no longer refer to her as a vagrant or urchin. She was a lady. He must admit dancing with her last evening had been more than pleasant. The memory of her husky voice and slim curves was enough to send a wave of heat through his body.

Cecil didn’t rise to his friend’s challenge. He merely replied, “There is a gentleman... Well, not quite a gentleman. There is a wealthy cit I know who wants to purchase the property. He is a grocer and intends to expand into that neighborhood to keep abreast of Fortnum and Mason.”

“You are not involved in trade.” He squinted at Cecil. “What are your dealings with such a man?”

Cecil replied smoothly, “We have crossed paths recently.”

“You say this man is interested in the land the lending library is on.” Ashford paused, a thought coming to mind. “Is he sabotaging the business?”

Cecil shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. I don’t believe he has to. So many libraries and booksellers have sprung up recently in London that all of them cannot make a go of it. The proprietor of Thorne’s has a shabby shop, although it is in a good area.”

“And what is the name of the man who wants the land?” he asked, taking a sip from the crystal glass in his hand.

“Mr. James Landry.”

“The vulgar mushroom who is pushing his daughter under the nose of any peer he can find?” he asked with distaste. “He wants to buy a title.”

“The man is wealthy enough to succeed,” Cecil replied with a shrug.

Nathaniel choked on his brandy. Ashford clapped him on the back. His eyes streaming, the baron coughed several times.

“You aren’t thinking of marrying the girl?” Nathaniel asked Cecil between coughing fits.

“Why?” Cecil asked, drumming the fingers of one hand on the dining table.

“I cannot see you married,” the other man responded hoarsely.

“It is not unheard of for men in my family to marry,” came the viscount’s curt reply.

“Not until they absolutely have to,” Ashford countered smugly.

Nathaniel swallowed repeatedly.

“Are you all right?” he belatedly asked his friend.

“Yes,” the baron replied with another cough. “I just can’t comprehend Cecil leg-shackled.”

The viscount sighed heavily. “We all have to marry eventually. I might as well marry for as much money as I can.”

“Never say your family is in trouble?” Not once had Ashford heard his friend give an indication of money difficulties.

The other man shrugged. “It is. I am. In trouble.”

It was just like Cecil to not explain further. Ashford would not press him for now, but he didn’t consider the subject closed.

He wondered what Lady Charlotte would make of what he’d learned about Mr. Landry. And why was he worried about helping the woman? Ashford didn’t have any desire to play the hero. Yes, he had seen the young woman out of harm’s way on St. James’s Street. He would have done that for any lady, surely.

“If I can be of service, Cecil, just ask,” Nathaniel said in a low voice. Their friend was often cheerful, but now he appeared subdued, lost in his own thoughts.

Cecil merely shook his head and took a long swallow of his drink. Ashford let the matter drop. He and Nathaniel knew their friend to be a proud, stubborn man.

“Does your urch- um Lady Charlotte have an investment in the library?” Cecil asked.

“As I said, she is merely an interested party.” Another thought occurred to him. “You seem to know a lot about James Landry. Is he a member of the Rogues Alliance?”

“It is rumored to be so.” Cecil frowned darkly. “James Landry isn’t a man to be trifled with. If he decides he wants that land, he will do everything possible to make sure he gets it.”