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Books were to be treated as fine jewels—no. Jewels could be tossed about here and there without concern—books were to be treasured, removed from the shelves one at a time, carefully perused and immediately returned to their place of honour. They were made of delicate materials. A nursemaid would not toss a baby here or there and books deserved the same care.
She looked up, swung her stockinged feet to the floor as she sat, dropped the book at her side. Her foot now sat on top of a boot, her skirt hem covering it, as she lowered her hand towards the remaining footwear.
Modesty. Finally. ‘You may dress.’ He turned his back on her slightly, so he would not see if her skirt flipped up while she put on those worn boots. He would have thought Warrington would have done better by her. He would put in a word to see that she had decent indoor shoes.
He heard a thump and the sound of pages fluttering.
‘I cannot read this—this—’
From the corner of his eye, he saw the title of one of his father’s favourite volumes disgracefully on the floor. He pressed his lips together and gave himself a moment. ‘Why are you in the library since you disregard reading?’ he finally asked.
‘Your mother has insisted I pick a book, study it,’ she muttered, ‘and be able to speak about it. She is punishing me.’
He heard the sound of her fidgeting about and then silence. He turned.
She glared at him, but she only had one boot on and she held the other in her lap, her right hand resting on it.
‘I do not think I like your mother,’ she continued. ‘The duchess told the servant who stores my bow I am not to have it. The servants are afraid to disobey her.’ She stared at him. ‘The duchess said it is good for me to learn to read English. That I should not be unleashed on society until I have better ways. I am fine with that, as long as they are my ways. I told her I do not wish to be unleashed on society.’
‘The books?’ With his hand, he indicated the floor.
‘They have too many pages and not enough drawings.’ She frowned. ‘Melina taught me the words when I was a child and when I discovered I was not reading Greek, but English, I hid the books. I have only read a few letters since then and they are never more than three pages long. This—’ she stared at him as if he had written the offending length ‘—this has so many words I do not know how the man did not run out of them.’
She picked up the book, holding it in her left hand and shaking it in his direction. For a moment he forgot to be outraged. Her bodice bounced enticingly.
He pushed his thoughts in a safer direction.
He remembered how she’d helped his mother. He took a breath. He must remind himself that the duchess’s health was more important than any book that had been in the family for near a century. Even one with hand-inked illustrations which Miss Cherroll had just waved about without any care.
He switched to a ruse she had used, turning it in her direction. ‘Books are actually only meant for the upper classes. Only peers should have them. They are too much for the common folk to appreciate.’
‘I agree. Only peers. Common folk have no time for reading. I sold both our books to a sailor,’ she said. ‘He knew how to read. It did not make him smarter, though, because he paid a good price for nothing.’
Her eyes sparked with a challenge that bolted inside his stomach.
She perched on the sofa like a preening bird and let the books rest about her like so many twigs.
‘I suspect his purchase was not as much—’ he eyed the books ‘—as my father and grandfather and I spent for those.’ He walked to the sofa and picked up a tome from the floor. ‘So when you are not casting jabs about the books, what do you really think of them?’
‘They are too much to read. But very dear to sell. I was so happy when I discovered that.’ Lifting one volume, she put it atop another. ‘I would not damage such costly items.’
‘That almost reassures me.’ Rhys kept his face unmoved. ‘What books did you sell?’
She held her chin high. ‘I do not remember. But I remember the necklace we bought for our mana. She had it on when she died. We claimed our father sent it with a ship.’
Rhys imagined the three girls giving the gift to their mother.
‘Your mother,’ she continued, ‘says I have been addled because I lost my own mana so young. She said I misled her about the pirates trying to capture our ship. She thought I lied about everything.’ Bellona’s lips firmed and she shook her head precisely.
‘So I sang the sailors’ song to her. She believes me now.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I should not have done it. I do not like that song. It is erotikos.’
