It mattered little what his valet did just now. He knew whathemust do and for that he required quiet. He needed time to read and think.
*
Sir John wasnot always able to read other people’s feelings accurately, it was a defect that had followed him all his life. People’s expressions, or their tone of voice, often had no meaning for him. He was only aware of this because his mother had pointed it out so often to him when he’d been younger. She’d scolded him that he must try harder. For all her scolding, that skill often eluded him. However, he did not think he was having trouble understanding another’s feelings at this particular moment. Lord Penderton seemed decidedly irritated.
Why, though? All he had done was alert the gentleman that he required an interview, and then turned up for same. Perhaps he should have named a day and time. Perhaps the old fellow did not like surprises.
Sir John tamped down the smile that attempted to turn up on his lips. Lord Penderton would, one day not too far in future, beverysurprised at how events unfolded.
“I cannot account for your visit,” Lord Penderton said. “I understand that my daughter indicated she did not care for you to request an interview and I did not invite you to one.”
“Miss Dell did demur on the subject,” Sir John said, “but that is to be expected, is it not?”
“If you imply that my daughter says what she does not mean, I am afraid you are not very well acquainted with her,” Lord Penderton said.
Sir John could see that some soothing of ruffled feathers was required. “My lord, let us be frank between us. Miss Dell is charming in her own way, to a certain sort of gentleman. I am that sort, but alas, that sort is not raining down from the skies. Most gentlemen, and I do not applaud them for this, wish to have a lady more interested in the pianoforte and sewing and things of that nature. A lady who likes the library too much cannot expect dozens throwing flowers at her feet.”
Sir John thought he’d put the case straightforward. Even an indulgent father must see truth when it was laid out for him.
“I see,” Lord Penderton said through gritted teeth. “So you do me a favor in taking her off my hands, do you?”
“If one wishes to categorize it so,” Sir John said, “though I would be remiss if I did not point out the favor also being doneme.”
Sir John thought that was a particularly nice turn of phrase. Lord Penderton understood the real case of things, but it was gallant to claim Miss Dell’s hand was an honor to her suitor.
Lord Penderton rose. “I do not know what is wrong with you, sir. You are either the most arrogant man I have ever had the misfortune to encounter, or you are dumb as a rock. My daughter does not like you.Ido not like you. You may depart and never darken these doors again.”
Sir John was momentarily frozen. He had, only a moment ago, thought he was very near success. Now the man was throwing him out.
“I did point out, my lord,” he said, “that most gentlemen will not be interested in a bookish daughter. If you are so disdainful of a reputable offer, how will you get on?”
Lord Penderton’s face grew an alarming shade of red. “Get out! Get out now. Hidgson, get this fool out of my house!”
*
Giles had readthe diary three times. There was not a page he had not turned over in his mind. He had gone to Crackwilder to talk it over.
After deftly getting by Mrs. Radish/Ra-deesh and one of her squalid children, he had jogged up the stairs.
Now, Crackwilder stared at the book in Giles’ hand. “What do you mean, you purchased it out of Sir John’s house? What does that—?”
“I paid the charwoman,” Giles said.
“You stole it!”
“No, I paid the charwoman to steal it,” Giles said.
“Good God, man, why?”
“Because it is the only book in Sir John’s house and so I was convinced it must be of some importance.”
“Wait, how could you know that? Have you called on Sir John?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Then how—”
“I looked in his windows,” Giles said. Even to his own ears, his recent activities were beginning to sound outrageous.
