Chapter 4 #2
“Supposed? Such a flimsy word,” scoffed Emeline. “Since we know the books can only be studied inside the Reading Room, there is nothing for it. We shall obtain tickets. I will ask my brother Anthony to write a recommendation for us.”
Hart casually plucked the paper from the table, folding it again, and returning it to his inside pocket. “Your brother Anthony?”
“Yes! He is a respected naturalist. Not only was Anthony aboard the Beagle with Charles Darwin, but he also knows Mr. Panizzi, librarian at the British Museum.” She gave a little snap of her fingers. “Never fear, my lord, we shall soon be spending hours in the Reading Room, earning our wages.”
Even as Hart wondered what Justin St. Briac would think of these new developments, he shook the thought away. Had he ever met a more refreshing female? With her beauty and intelligence, Emeline could have been the toast of London society, but instead she had embarked upon another path entirely.
An odd feeling stole over him as he remembered her words: unburdened by husbands. For a moment, Hart wondered if she might prefer the company of women to that of men, but then he remembered the intensity he’d felt when their gazes locked…and he knew damned well she’d felt it, too.
Emeline’s voice broke into his thoughts. “There is no time to waste. I must contact Anthony as soon as possible to acquire our tickets!” Looking at the clock on the mantel, she added, “Therefore, if our discussion is concluded…”
Hart bit back a smile as he realized he had been summarily dismissed. Although it wasn’t at all the way he’d expected this meeting to end, he found himself more intrigued than ever by the unconventional Miss St. Briac.
When Emeline knocked at the door of her brother’s charming home in Charles Street, she was greeted by Rafael, the Brazilian-born manservant who, as a boy, had stowed away and attached himself to Anthony during his voyage home from South America.
Rafael was now eighteen years old and like a member not only of this family, but also of Emeline’s cousin Camille Hawke’s family in Cornwall, where he helped to manage their bird sanctuary.
“It’s lovely to see you, Rafael,” she said warmly. “And how handsome you have grown.”
“You are too kind, miss.” He gave her a raffish smile. “It my pleasure to meet you again.”
In the background, Emeline glimpsed Mrs. Bell, the white-haired housekeeper who had come to Anthony with Frederica, who was now his wife. The old woman approached with a slower step.
“Hello, Mrs. Bell!” Emeline greeted her.
“I was just about to bring the carriage around,” said Rafael, bowing slightly as he turned to go. “I should take my leave.”
Alone with Mrs. Bell, Emeline asked for her brother. The housekeeper shook her head. “They are all about to travel to Mr. Darwin’s home for a gathering. Little Oliver is going as well,” she added, referring to Emeline’s three-year-old nephew. “I don’t believe—”
“Is that my sister’s voice I hear?” It was Anthony, descending the stairs with Oliver, who clung to his father’s hand.
Her heart leaped at the sight of her brother, always so dashing.
Anthony was ten years her senior, and she adored him.
Now he came into sight, smiling, and little Oliver rushed into her arms.
“Auntie!” cried the boy.
“Freddie is just tying the ribbons of her bonnet,” Anthony said. “We are off to Darwin’s for a small farewell luncheon. He and his growing family are moving house to Kent, where they will live in an old vicarage called Down House.”
“How you will miss him here in London!” exclaimed Emeline.
“I will, but I think this change is for the best. My friend has had health struggles since the voyage of the Beagle.” Anthony held her away from him. “Forgive me, Emmie, but the carriage is just drawing up. Will you allow us to postpone your visit?”
“Of course! I should never have appeared uninvited.” She knew she should let him go gracefully but couldn’t resist catching his sleeve and adding, “Anthony, do you think it would be possible to obtain tickets for Louise and me to study in the Reading Room at the British Museum?”
Frederica had just joined them, and Rafael jumped down from the box to assist the family.
“Tickets…to the Reading Room?” Anthony cocked his head, as if he thought she had misspoken.
“Yes! I know it isn’t the usual practice for women—”
He gave a snort of agreement. “Far from it!”
“Yet long overdue,” interjected Freddie with a wide smile. “Good for you, Emmie!”
With that, her sister-in-law kissed Emeline’s cheek and led Oliver down to the waiting carriage.
“I will come by tomorrow to learn more about this,” Anthony told Emeline as he took up his hat and gloves. “Honestly, chit, you never cease to surprise me.”
That evening, Emeline and Louise ate their supper on the tea table in a cozy corner of the parlor. Dora served their meal looking rather shamefaced. The roast chicken was dry, the potatoes needed seasoning, and the green beans were cold, but the cousins were in good spirits all the same.
When Dora had left them, Emeline put down her fork and mused, “I must ask my grandmother if she really believed Dora was skilled enough to leave the Raveneau kitchen and manage a kitchen of her own.”
Louise smiled. “Perhaps Devon merely thought that, for the two of us, any cook was better than none.” She raised her glass of wine.
“I think we should celebrate the many new developments in our lives. Whenever I ponder Lord Hartcliffe’s visit, I feel excited.
To think that he is actually going to pay us to gather pertinent information regarding his ancient artifacts… Oh, it is quite thrilling!”
Flames danced in the nearby grate, enhancing the festive mood.
Emeline lifted her own glass and touched it to her cousin’s.
As she sipped the wine, warmth spread through her body.
She, too, was exhilarated by the challenge his lordship had set before them.
Yet Emeline was also keenly aware of other, confusing feelings, an intoxicating, physical tug that she hadn’t felt since the long-ago night at the Spring Ball when she had stumbled into a stranger’s bed.
It was a memory she had labored to bury, yet today that unsettling part of her had awakened when Lord Hartcliffe pinned her under his blue gaze.
Beware, Emeline warned herself.
At length she replied, “I too am most anxious to gain access to the Reading Room. Surely there are papers there regarding recent archaeological digs here in England. Perhaps some were conducted in Suffolk, near Woodcroft Priory!”
“Yes,” agreed Louise, “and we can gather information about artifacts like those unearthed at his lordship’s estate.”
“I confess I find archaeology utterly fascinating! It brings a human aspect that doesn’t exist with fossils,” Emeline said. “Who owned the sword discovered at Woodcroft Priory, and what was his story?”
Louise sipped more of her wine, cheeks pinkening.
“Do you really think Anthony will be able to obtain our tickets to the Reading Room? When I first came to London everyone said that ladies ought to use circulating libraries so that we might read shut away in the confines of our homes. It was considered very improper for a female to spend hours among the men in the Reading Room, and I daresay that is still the case.”
“Men enjoy making lot of ridiculous rules for ladies,” Emeline proclaimed.
“That is why I turned my back on the London ton. As for the Reading Room, I have heard that Harriet Martineau studied there within the last few years. Although we shall doubtless invite a lot of stares and whispers, I shall relish the opportunity to look down my nose at those odious men!”
Her cousin leaned forward then and waggled her brows in a way that suggested she was feeling the wine. “Speaking of men… Will you also relish Lord Jasper Hartcliffe’s future visits?”
“Louise!” Heat flooded Emeline’s face.
“Ah, I see I have struck a nerve.” Sitting back, she nodded triumphantly. “I may be a spinster, but I am not oblivious to the signs of…” Her voice trailed off.
“Of what?” challenged Emeline.
“Well, nothing so obvious as a flirtation, but I did perceive a certain current in the air. I suppose it’s attraction, though I am no expert on that subject.” Louise paused to drink the last drops of wine in her glass before adding plainly, “I saw the way he looked at you.”
“You said yourself that he is a renowned libertine. I have no doubt that he attempts to charm every eligible female he encounters.” Emeline drew a shaky breath. “Besides, his lordship has more white hairs than Papa! No doubt he is quite old.”
“Do you really think he is so advanced in years?” She shook her head. “Look closer next time you meet—if you dare.”
As Louise’s words sank in, Emeline became conscious of a tingling warmth that spread over her body and settled in her intimate core.
“I am not used to hearing you talk this way,” she said, glad to turn the conversation away from her own reactions to Hartcliffe. “And I thought we had agreed to pursue lives free of the distractions of men. Especially wicked libertines!”
Louise averted her eyes. “Yes, I know. We did agree about that.” A telltale flush crept over her cheeks.
Emeline’s heart sped up. “I hope…you are not attracted to Lord Hartcliffe yourself?”
“What?” Her cousin glanced over in surprise. “Oh no, not that. Not that at all.”
She knew a sinking feeling. Charles. Of course!
Louise was still secretly pining for Sir Charles Brandreth, who had been living in Italy for years.
Even though Charles was Emeline’s half-brother, she strongly felt that Louise was too good for him.
Charles had always cared most for his own well-being and forming connections with powerful, wealthy aristocrats.
Perhaps there was no point in saying any of this aloud, Emeline thought with a sigh, and yet she loved her cousin too much to continue pretending she did not see the truth.
“Is it Charles?” she asked gently.
Louise blinked nervously. “Why do you say that?”
“I know I am considerably younger than either of you, but I am not blind. I think all the family could see the way you always changed in his presence. You glowed whenever Charles came into the room.” Emeline paused, noting her cousin’s dismayed expression.
“It would be just fine except that Charles doesn’t deserve so fine and lovely a woman as you! ”
“You don’t understand.” Louise shook her head, blinking back tears.
“There has always been a…special understanding between us. I am his friend! I feel that I can see inside his mind and heart in a way that others cannot.” She paused.
“I’ve always felt that Charles was scarred by his childhood and, thus, wary of giving his whole heart to a woman.
Perhaps, when he next returns to London, he will be a wiser, stronger person. ”
Emeline wanted to exclaim that Louise was a fool to nurse such dreams, but she forced back the words, realizing that such a speech would only cause pain. Instead, she nodded. “Perhaps so. Anything is possible.”
For her own part, Emeline hoped that Charles would remain in Italy until the torch Louise carried finally burned out.
Setting down her empty goblet, she proclaimed, “Let us end this talk of men. For my part, I plan to spend so much time at the British Museum, studying in the Reading Room, that there won’t be time to fret about any member of the male species, especially Lord Jasper Hartcliffe!”