There had been so few unmarried ladies who’d held George’s interest. His granduncle, the former Duke of Aylesham, had encouraged him to find a wife, as male heirs in the Aylesham line were sparse. Worse than sparse. Mr. Dutton had spent a good deal of time researching the family line in search of George’s heir. In the meantime, George had spent the past few years subtly reviewing each crop of young ladies making their come-outs, and he’d found no one he could stomach the idea of marrying, and the older he got, the younger and sillier they all seemed.
But enough of such maudlin thoughts, he told himself. Marriage was a business proposition, requiring only that George be able to at least envision himself leading some sort of companionable coexistence with his future wife. He’d held youthful hopes and even the beginnings of love during his brief betrothal to Lady Louisa, and then Lady Elizabeth’s near perfection had stirred those hopes again.
It was time to put such romantic foolishness to rest.
***
The door to the library opened.
Susan looked up from her book.
The door closed with a quiet click.
She waited, her ear straining for any noise. Had someone merely peered into the room and then left? Or was there someone in the library with her now? Ugh, how utterly annoying if her solitude was now to be interrupted. She’d only just set the poetry aside to read Evelina. She wanted to continue reading, not deal with the niceties of social conversation. Maybe if she remained quiet . . .
She heard a man sigh, followed by a squeak and swooshing sound that led Susan to conclude—unhappily—that whoever it was had sat in one of the chairs near the door, which meant he intended to be here for a while. Bother. Now what should she do?
She had been here first, she told herself. She would simply ignore the man. Perhaps he would soon leave.
She tried to resume reading—but, honestly, how was one to read under such circumstances, when one’s mind was constantly drawn to the awareness of an intruder in the room?
Within a few minutes, the door opened again, and the chair squeaked and swooshed as the man presumably arose to greet whoever had joined him.
Double bother.
“We must make this conversation brief,” a male voice said softly.
“Agreed. The less said, the better,” another male voice replied. This voice was slightly lower in pitch than the first man’s voice. Susan heard the sound of papers rustling. “These are the letters of introduction you will need”—more rustling sounds— “and this is the document from Lord C that will explain our intent.”
“Excellent,” the first man said.
“This final letter gives instructions to the captain of my yacht.”
Susan’s forehead knit together. Letters of introduction? A yacht? A document? And who was Lord C? What were these men talking about? Her mind was abuzz with curiosity.
“When can you leave?” the man with the lower-pitched voiced asked.
“As soon as I feel it appropriate, under the circumstances.”
“Ah, yes. Family duties. Do you have any questions? If not, it is best that we separate and each return in our own time to the wedding celebration.”
“I have no questions at present. I’m fully aware of the gravity of my assignment,” the man who’d been given the letters said.
“Excellent. Godspeed.”
Susan stayed completely still and waited to hear the door open and close. She didn’t have to wait long. The door opened and, after a few moments, shut again.
She let out a breath and stood, closing Evelina as she did so. She would put the book of poetry back on the shelf, but she thought she might ask Lord Cantwell if she could borrow the novel and finish reading it before she returned to Lincolnshire—
“Ahem.”
She looked up, startled.
A very tall, very haughty-looking, very angry gentleman stood at the end of the row of books directly in front of her. He stalked toward her, his mouth in a firm line, his eyes burning like black coals. She disliked him on sight.
“Do you make it a regular practice of eavesdropping on other people’s conversations?” he asked her in a surprisingly soft but nonetheless biting tone.
“Do you make it a regular practice of barging into a room that is already occupied and commandeering it?” she replied. It was an overstatement of what he’d done, but she didn’t care. He’d provoked her.
He was standing directly in front of her by now. He was much taller than she and looked down at her with disdain, fingering his quizzing glass. “You, ma’am, should have made your presence known, had you any manners at all.”
“Perhaps you should have checked the library more carefully if you intended to have a private conversation. Very sloppy on your part, I must say,” she retorted.
He raised his quizzing glass halfway to his eye and glared at her.
“If you are trying to intimidate me, you may as well stop right now,” she said before he could speak. “I have three older brothers and have dealt with male intimidation in all its varied forms since I was in leading strings. You can have no effect on me.”
His quizzing glass was fully at his eye now. He inspected her from the top of her head to her toes. Regardless of her bold words, Susan began to squirm inside. She became acutely aware of her dark, completely unruly hair, her unflattering reading spectacles, and the spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose that she had always detested. Her hand itched to check that her fichu was properly covering her bosom. His eyes, with that awful quizzing glass of his still present, took in their fill and saw everything, she was certain. Every detail. Every flaw. It made her feel little and unworthy.
And that made her angry.
“Have you seen enough?” she asked him in a mocking tone. “Would you care to inform me of your conclusions so that I may humbly take them into account and improve myself in future? Or perhaps you would prefer to inspect my ankles first?”
He simply stood there and said nothing, glaring at her with those hot, black eyes of his. It was utterly infuriating.
She smirked and lifted her skirts a few inches, raising one foot as she did so her ankle was in view.
He looked at her ankle and then raised his eyes back to hers, and they locked gazes. His eyes still burned. “I am greatly relieved that we are not acquainted, ma’am, and that there is no one present to make the proper introductions. For you have shown yourself to be utterly without decorum. I can only hope that you have the sense, at least, to treat the conversation you overheard with respect. I pray my hope is not in vain. Good afternoon.” He turned on his heel and retraced his steps down the row of books, his back ramrod straight, until he disappeared from sight, and then Susan heard the library door open and close with a bang.