I’m free, for a few minutes, at least,Pippa thought, barely smothering a grin. Turning, she headed straight towards the shelves, planning to pick up some novels she’d noticed beforehand.
That was her only aim. It had nothing to do with the fact that Lord Whitmore was standing in that exact spot, scanning the spines.
“I believe we are looking for the same book, Lord Whitmore,” Pippa said, a little shaken at her daring.
Lord Whitmore glanced down at her, a smile spreading over his face. Pippa felt that familiar, traitorous little skip in her heartbeat. She smiled back.
“Pride and Prejudice?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “The one that Miss O’Hare recited from?”
“Indeed. I read part of it once before but was never able to finish the book. I’ve heard that it’s quite an adventure story.”
Nodding, Lord Whitmore glanced up at the shelves again. Reaching up, he pulled down a slim tome. “This is it, I believe.”
He handed it straight to Pippa, and she raised her eyebrows.
“Well, if you located the book, you ought to have the privilege of reading it first.”
He smiled faintly. “Whatever happened to ladies first?”
She chuckled. “This lady can be quite patient, when she wants to be. Please, I insist. I have a great many books to read first, anyway.”
He held her gaze for an instant too long, and Pippa could have sworn that her breath was stolen away altogether.
Oh dear,she thought, heart thumping.Lady Thomasin was right. Loveisnothing but a parcel of trouble. I rather wish that Timothy had recitedthatspeech.
“I sensed that Lady Randall was not enjoying the evening,” Lord Whitmore said suddenly, breaking the silence away. “Is she fond of novels?”
Pippa gave a most unladylike snort. “Mama?Novels? Heavens, no. She thinks them entirely too frivolous. She would most disagree with what you said earlier.”
He looked blankly at her, faintly disconcerted. “What I…?”
“That everybody deserves a little frivolity,” Pippa reminded him, smiling wryly. “It was most insightful.”
Lord Whitmore coloured a little, laughing awkwardly. “It was a rather foolish thing to say, wasn’t it?”
“I did not think so.”
He held her gaze for a moment, as if trying to work out whether she was serious or not. Once again, Pippa felt that odd sensation of having herbreathstolen, and it only intensified the longer she held his gaze.
Is this love? I think it might be. Or at least the beginnings of it.
Oh, heavens, what am I going to do?
“Pippa!”
Bridget’s voice cut crudely across the murmur of polite conversation, louder than anyone else’s voice. Several people turned their heads to look, and Lord Whitmore even flinched.
Cringing with mortification, Pippa turned, slowly.
Sure enough, her mother was marching across the room, a look of grim determination in her eyes. She slowed her pace as she approached, having the good sense to remove the angry expression from her face, replacing it with a forced and insincere smile.
“Pippa, there you are. I told you to wait at our seats, did I not?” she said, her voice tight and clipped.
“No, Mama, you did not,” Pippa found herself saying. “And nobody else is sitting down now.”
Bridget’s lips tightened at this, and Pippa wondered at her own daring. She wasn’t usually in the habit of contradicting her mother, as it generally was not worth the trouble. It took two people to argue, after all, and Pippa had learned that if she stayed cool and calm, the argument would never happen.
Today, though, her calmness had deserted her. Anger tightened her chest, and she found herself clenching her fists at her sides.
