Another smile. Isolde’s treacherous heart skipped a beat.
“Very well, then,” he said, rising to his feet, gathering the books together. “I shall attend your salon. Tomorrow night, did you say? I shall be there.”
Isolde stayed where she was for a moment or two, having entirely forgotten the book she came here to get. About ten minutes after the viscount’s departure, she heard the clack-clack of ladies’ boot heels on the stone floor. Maria appeared around a curve in the bookshelves, looking mildly concerned and very curious.
“Was the Viscount Henley I saw just now?” Maria ventured. “He signed up for two subscriptions, you know, and took out at least six books. He asked for another copy of Pride and Prejudice, but of course we only have the one for now. I shall order more directly, I think. He said he would buy his own copy.”
Isolde blinked. “Two subscriptions? For his sister and stepmother?”
“No, for his sister and himself. I was pleasantly surprised to see a man like him enjoying novels. One doesn’t think of rakes as liking such things, do you?”
“No,” Isolde managed weakly. “I suppose not.”
Maria narrowed her eyes and came sweeping towards her. She plumped herself down beside Isolde and shifted to face her.
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Well, I haven’t.”
“Pity. A haunted circulating library would indeed make a most intriguing tale, would it not? Pray, do tell, did the viscount utter something that perturbed you? Did he dare to engage in any flirtation?”
Isolde barked out a laugh. “Certainly not. Why would he?”
Maria pressed her lips together. “My dear, with the greatest respect, you really do not know much about men. And… and men like the viscount tend to look on ladies as challenges. Your desire never to marry, coupled with your beauty, intellect, and dowry present a remarkably high challenge.”
She stiffened. “What are you saying, Maria?”
“I am saying that you should be careful around the viscount. He is a dangerous man, and I cannot agree with this new friendship of yours.”
Isolde drew in a deep breath. “Well, I can safely say that the viscount and I are not friends. You have nothing to fear on that head.”
Maria said nothing. Isolde had a feeling her friend did not believe her.
Well, there’ll be no better time to tell her, she thought, resigned.
“However, having said that, Maria, I feel I must warn you of something.”
“Oh?”
“I… I may have… may have invited the viscount to our literary salon.”
Silence.
“Maria? Are you angry?”
Maria let out a long, slow breath. “Not friends, indeed.”
Chapter Eleven
“If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh…. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?"
"Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any of us."
"These are heavy misfortunes," replied Elizabeth. "But the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine."
"Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you!”
Clayton set down the book for a moment, grinning to himself.
