Chapter 8 #4
“I heard Waverly was very good,” Nat suggested.
“Yes, it was, I liked that too, and perhaps The Wanderer by Fanny Burney. I think she would enjoy that one very much,” Della said enthusiastically, and then fell silent, gazing at Mr Marwick.
Marwick smiled good-naturedly. “Well, I think she may have read Waverly, so The Wanderer it is, providing Mr Brooks has it.”
“He does, I saw it. On the second shelf from the top,” Della said hurriedly. “I could show you if—”
“There’s no need. I don’t wish to trouble you, and browsing in a bookshop is no hardship, is it? Good day to you, Lady Della, Mr Ashford.”
Giving a polite bow, he took himself off. Nat watched, amused and rather touched as Della watched him go.
“It’s no good, love,” Nat said gently. “Hawkney would lock you up in a convent first. He’d never allow it.”
Della’s complexion blazed scarlet, and she glared at him. “Oh, go to the devil, Nat,” she said impatiently, and stalked off.
Nat chuckled, unperturbed, for Della’s tempers never lasted long.
He regretted spoiling her meeting with the young man, but it was kinder to do it now than allow her to go down a path that would lead to disaster.
Hawkney might overlook Nat making what he considered a mesalliance, though Nat remained unconvinced, but his sister would not have that luxury.
Deciding it was time to find Meg and see if there were any books she was dying to have, he went in search of her.
He rounded a bookshelf and stopped in his tracks as he found her sitting in a quiet corner.
She had completely forgotten her surroundings, if Nat was any judge, for she had tucked her feet up on the armchair and was leaning on one arm to capture the light from the window.
Her free hand toyed with a loose coil of hair that had fallen from her coiffure, and she absently twirled it as she read.
An expression of absolute concentration illuminated her face, and Nat suspected an invading army marching through the shop would not have caused her to bat an eyelid.
Lord, but she was lovely with the light shining on her blonde hair and that little frown between her delicate eyebrows. Nat had the sudden urge to move closer and put his finger to the tiny furrow and smooth it away. He didn’t, though he could not help wondering what might happen if he did.
Nat could just imagine her expression of surprise as she looked up at him in his mind’s eye and saw himself bending down to press a kiss to her lips.
A sudden shock of desire hit him square in the solar plexus and then travelled directly south.
For a moment he felt quite winded and then gave himself a stern talking to.
Well, it was hardly to be wondered at, was it?
She was lovely and interesting, clever and witty, and very kind too.
He was used to being around women who were rather more liberal with their affections, and so he was out of practice at being in company with innocent young ladies.
It behoved him to remember exactly who she was, and that she had placed herself in his care.
If he took advantage of the trust she had placed in him, by word or deed, he would be the very worst sort of rogue and deserve to be horsewhipped. He had best be on his guard.
Nat felt this scolding ought to do the trick but was still uncomfortably aware that whilst his mind was in complete agreement, other parts of him were feeling rebellious.
Still, he moved a step closer and took note of the titles she had selected.
A New System of Chemical Philosophy by John Dalton, Lectures on Natural Philosophy by Margaret Bryan, and Academica by Marcus Tullius Cicero.
Crouching down before her, Nat pushed the book she was holding up so he could read the title.
“Traité sur la Tolérance. Ah, Voltaire’s Treatise on Tolerance, and in the original French, too. A little light reading before nuncheon, Meg?”
To his delight, she poked her tongue out at him. “It’s fascinating,” she said defiantly.
“I don’t doubt it, pet, but Della and Vinnie are making their purchases, and I rather think that there is a young gentleman who will be stuck in the novel section until we leave, and he is safe to make his escape.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Meg asked, setting the book aside, though not before Nat had remarked the wistful glance she sent it.
“I introduced Della to a Mr Marwick. She knows his sister, but as delightful a young fellow as he is, Hawkney would not approve, and Della seemed quite taken with him. I’ve never seen her blush so often or look so uncertain of herself.
Mr Marwick seems a sensible sort, however, and appears keen to avoid further contact. ”
“Oh, poor Della. I think it’s wretched how everyone must stick to their own kind. Such snobbery,” she said crossly, getting to her feet and smoothing down her skirts.
Nat smiled at her indignation though was unsurprised by it, given what he had learned about her. “I don’t disagree, but it’s best to avoid heartache. They’d be neither fish nor fowl. He wouldn’t fit in her world, nor she into his. Like it or not, it’s a recipe for disaster.”
Meg sighed. “I suppose there is truth in that, but only because everyone keeps to the status quo. It will take some brave people to buck the trend before things change for the better.”
“That is true too, but I’d rather not see Della have to face such a fate if I’m honest,” he said with a rueful smile.
“I know,” she said, putting her hand on his arm and smiling at him.
“Because you are a good man who cares for his cousin. I understand that. Well, come along, then. I shall leave Voltaire for another day. Oh, do you suppose there is a copy in the library?” she asked, her grip tightening in her excitement.
“I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised,” Nat said, though his gaze had snagged on her slender hand, and the way it clutched his sleeve, her touch so natural and so familiar.
“I’ll help you find it when we get home.
For now, how about tea and cake? There was always a marvellous teashop here when I was a lad, they did splendid scones with jam and cream. ”
Her eyes lit up, the sometimes stormy grey brightening with delight at the prospect. “Scones with jam and cream?” she repeated with obvious longing. “Well, don’t just stand there, hurry up!”
She grabbed his hand, towing him after her, and Nat laughed, happiness bubbling inside him.
He determined to slip back to the shop and order all those books for her, so she had her own copies.
Anyone who brought such joy into his world deserved to be spoiled for once, and he very much doubted anyone had ever spoiled her or made a fuss of her in her life.