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“Built by Queen Caroline, yes.”
“I wonder that they do not open it to the public now and again. I have heard King George lets people visit his library, under supervision.” She watched as Rowden swung himself out of the saddle, then handed her the reins, reaching once more into the pocket of his coat. “You can’t mean—”
“Don’t tell. I don’t know of any other keys that can unlock this gate. Most people have to go round to the stable yard to get in.”
The iron gate creaked as he pushed at it, betraying that it had not been recently oiled. Sophronia looked around to see who might be observing them about to trespass on the royal grounds. There was no one else about, not in the park, and not behind the gate or in the yard beyond.
“Rowden, we mustn’t—”
He held a finger to his lips and took back the reins, looping them around the pointed finials of the fence. Then he secured Dulcinea beside the gelding and reached up to help Sophronia dismount.
“Be as unobtrusive as possible,” he whispered. “If we’re caught, we’re in trouble.”
“Trespassing in the Queen’s Library? That must be some sort of treason.”
“We’re not stealing anything. Only looking around.” He kept her hand clasped in his as he led her through the gate, watching for the approach of an ostler, a guard, a royal servant. The library and its grounds were deserted.
“It’s a crime that it’s unused,” he went on. “I’m told the building wasn’t entirely finished when the Queen died, and no one else took an interest in it. Her husband was not bookish, and the same could be said for the current Queen, who at the moment seems very settled in Windsor.”
His grip was strong and firm through his riding gloves, and Sophronia was reminded once again that this man was not a dandy. She chuckled as he tried his key at the door overshadowed by a small porch, recalling prior scenes of mischief.
“Victor Rowden, you are a complete rogue and a hopeless scoundrel. A guard will find us and believe we are robbers.”
“We are only here to read the books and look at the art. What belongs to the King belongs to the people, does it not? Public funds pay for it all.”
“I am sure the King would take a different view.” But she laughed again as he set to the door with a lockpick, one of the small assorted tools she had always known Rowden to carry in his pockets. He’d mastered the skill of picking locks early, when the Baron used to lock him in his bedchamber as punishment. Rowden had soon defeated that tactic, leading the Baron to choose more corporeal forms of expressing his displeasure, but Rowden had shrugged off his beatings just as he had shrugged off being locked in, and made a joke about it with Sophronia afterward.
She tightened her grasp on his fingers when the door swung open and he took her hand once more.
The elegance of the room made Sophronia catch her breath. The tall bookcases stood perpendicular to the wall, staggered along the bays of tall windows. They ranged in size, some of a height where Sophronia could reach the top shelf, some soaring well above her head. The tall domed ceiling, framed by a deep carved cornice, had been prepared for a painting that was never completed. Busts topped several of the cases, a prominent pair in marble and terracotta bearing the likeness of the Queen who had commissioned the library and her consort who had given her a kingdom. Three fireplaces flanked the room, and a heavy desk stood in the center of the space.
Rowden tugged open the shutters and the golden light of morning poured in, free of the clouds of coal fires that hung over eastern parts of the city. Sophronia pressed her hands to her chest and looked about her in awe.
“Imagine having this as your refuge.”
“I enjoy it,” Rowden said. “I peeked in a few years ago out of curiosity. It’s the one place in the world no one would look for me.”
He had always done that, she remembered—made refuges for himself where he wouldn’t be found out. Once, Sophronia had been his refuge.
He led her to a sturdy oak shelf where the books sat organized by size, with a large shelf on the bottom holding the folio volumes, middle shelves for the quarto volumes, and the top shelves for the smaller octavos, slotted beside a few books of yet smaller dimensions, the pocket size common for prayer books, travel guides, chapbooks, and volumes of poetry. Sophronia ran her hands over the bindings of expensive leather, the covers stamped and gilded, all bearing a faint layer of dust.
The titles were helter-skelter in their organization, a medical volume beside the novel Oronooko by Aphra Behn. Sophronia pulled out a smaller volume and opened it to the title page. “Gulliver’s Travels, by Jonathan Swift. The Queen enjoyed popular literature as well as scientific tomes.”
“You said you always wanted to travel. This might do until you can find your way abroad.” He twirled a globe that sat in its oak stand upon a pedestal near the bookcase, then bent to look closely. “This one needs some updating. Don’t use it to plan your voyages.”
A strangled laugh caught in her throat. The idea that he would give her a library as a realm of exploration, knowing that she longed for a larger world…the generosity of it made her chest ache.
“I cannot simply make free in the Queen’s Library.”
“I don’t see why you could not. The current King is using the building for storage. He stores his own books elsewhere.”
“This is quite a gift, Rowden.”
He stood very close, looking down at her. He smelled of leather, horse, and coriander, an earthy scent that made her want to press her nose into his neck, much like Dulcinea had. Bars of gold glowed in his dark brown eyes, the glint of morning light and a hint at the depths of him she hadn’t yet discovered. It hurt her eyes sometimes, how the shape of the raw, bold boy’s face she’d known so well shone beneath the more guarded and mysterious man who stood before her.
“You told Fanny you loved me,” he said, watching her.
She swallowed down the sudden knot of emotion that filled her throat, as if she’d taken too large a bite of a dry scone. “I did.” She’d never made it a secret that he was her favorite person on earth, that she’d preferred his company above all others.
