He had taken up a post in the window seat to read his new purchase, and certainly not because it reminded him of the Bells’ circulating library and Lady Isolde Belford.
And, of course, of her unusual and unexpected invitation. He hadn’t expected to be included in her literary circle, and once he made a polite demurral, he certainly hadn’t expected her to insist.
Could it be that she truly wanted him there?
No, no, nonsense.
He marked his place carefully and put the book aside. Hehad gone straight from the library to a bookshop and bought himself a copy of Pride and Prejudice. It was a popular story, according to the seller. That was ages ago, shortly before luncheon. Now, supper was nearly upon him and the sky outside was dark, and he’d raced through the book in a matter of hours.
Whoever the Lady was, she was a remarkably talented writer. Clayton caught himself laughing aloud more than once at comical moments in the book, at Elizabeth’s Bennet’s store of wit, and the frolics of her family. Amelia would enjoy it very much.
He wasn’t entirely sure how his present of a library subscription would be received. It might well be returned. But he would not have it said he was not trying, and perhaps Auric would begrudgingly accept a library subscription over an at-home library.
But when has Father ever accepted anything he did not like? At all?
Pushing the thought away, Clayton got to his feet.
The weather had settled in for the worse, with rain pattering down the glass. He stared out of the window, watching the rain drench the grounds. Beyond, the streets of London were slick and grey, with the few people who had to be out and about hurrying to and fro about their business, heads down, hoods pulled low, umbrellas up if they had any.
The weather had not been kind to them, and the following week was meant to be worse. A perfect week, really, for huddling indoors and talking about books.
To his horror, a frisson of anxiety started up in Clayton’s gut. Was he… could it be that he was nervous about tomorrow? About the invitation which had been so oddly given and received?
What would a literary salon be like? He could certainly say that he’d never been to such an event. And if Isolde had vouchedfor him, he had better behave himself.
The rake and the book club, he thought wryly. That would make a good title for a novel, I think.
Moving over to the velvet-rope bell-pull tucked neatly away beside a desk, he tugged on it, and waited.
Less than a moment later, the door inched open.
“You rang, my Lord?” Thomas asked quietly.
“Why is it, Thomas, that you seem to have a remarkable insight for when you are the one I want, rather than any other servant in the house?”
“A knack, my Lord,” the man responded smoothly, without batting an eyelid. “What do you require?”
Clayton drew in a deep breath. “Do you read novels, Thomas?”
“I read when I can, my Lord. You’ll recall that all of the servants are permitted to borrow books from your own library whenever they like. I often borrow books myself.”
“Ever gone to a literary salon?”
Thomas aimed a level look at his employer. “No, my Lord.”
“Right. Well, I’ve been invited to one, and I would like your advice on how to dress. Advice only, I won’t guarantee to take your advice.”
Something flickered in Thomas’ face. “Did Lady Isolde Belford invite you, my Lord?”
Clayton missed a beat. “What? Why would you assume it was her?”
Thomas cleared his throat, smiling nervously. “No reason, my Lord.”
“No reason? As I would believe that,” Clayton thought sourly. He would get to the bottom of that later. Obviously Thomas, too, liked to read gossip columns.
“Hmph. Well, never mind. Now, let’s talk about suits. No, boots. I don’t want to wear dancing slippers. Would my Hessianswork, do you think?”
***
