Chapter Two #2
Located in a quiet cul-de-sac off Fleet Street, Edgerton’s Lending Library was an oasis from the world.
The large central room featured two floor-to-ceiling windows at the front, while the three sides of the room were lined with tall, wooden shelves filled with books.
Some on the upper shelves were only accessed by wooden ladders.
Off to one side of the library room was a reading room, where patrons could go to read the books they didn’t wish to take home in silence.
Conversation was discouraged in that room.
Off the other side of the library was a lounge, where tea was often served and patrons could socialize within reason.
The whole space uplifted Cate’s spirits, and by and large she enjoyed working alongside her male librarians.
Today, there were two librarians in addition to her working at either circulation desk. As she chatted with one of the ladies inquiring about a specific book they didn’t have, Cate’s attention was diverted when a man entered the lending library, with looks that were quite arresting.
“Oh!” The whispered exclamation was enough to catch her patron’s attention, who glanced over her shoulder and also stared at the newcomer.
“He is lovely, isn’t he?” the patron whispered back, clearly forgetting about books for the moment.
“Yes.” She couldn’t help but stare, for the man was broad-shouldered with a commanding presence.
Easily she could imagine him being sun-kissed…
if London ever saw the sun again. Piercing blue eyes seemed to see everything at once, dark hair beneath the brim of his top hat glimmered with silver strands.
Oddly, she had the feeling he would rather be anywhere than mingling with society, perhaps training horses or doing something with his hands.
Mmm, did he have callouses on those hands? Difficult to tell, for he wore dove gray kid gloves that matched the color of his greatcoat.
As he strode to one of the circulation desks, Cate followed his progress with her gaze. Then she realized she recognized him—the Duke of Scarborough, one of the patrons of her library as well as a couple of others throughout London, who always made donations yearly in his dead wife’s name.
A nervous flutter moved through her veins. “If you will excuse me?” she murmured to the patron she’d been speaking with, but before she could make her way to the duke, one of the male clerks rushed over and asked if he could assist.
“I would have no idea, since I don’t know your qualifications,” the duke said, and even across the room like she was, the rumble of his voice tickled through her chest. “I would like to speak to someone who can give me a recommendation for someone who can translate an Ancient Egyptian text.”
The young clerk’s expression fell; it seemed he wouldn’t be able to assist the duke. “That is certainly not me, Your Grace, but I can make inquiries. One moment.”
What a novice. And something that one should never tell a duke.
When he rushed off, Cate slowly approached the man, and oh, dear, he towered over her by at least seven inches.
To be fair, she was only a few inches above five feet, so practically everyone was taller than she. “Perhaps I can help, Your Grace.”
“Oh?” A light of interest appeared in his sapphire eyes. “Why do you think so?”
Ah, a bit of arrogance. It would be lovely fun to disabuse him of that.
“My father is a crack researcher of ancient cultures, both professionally and personally. He has many friends and colleagues who are scholars, adventurers, and linguists, and among them they delve deep into Egyptian cultures and languages.”
He nodded. “And?”
A huff escaped her. “Throughout my formative years, I used to sneak into Papa’s library during those evenings.
Hidden behind doors or window drapes, I’d listen to them for hours.
Once found out, my father, instead of consigning me to my room, gave me a stack of books, introduced me to those men, and allowed me to study at my own pace to my heart’s content. ”
“How interesting.” His eyes reflected that. “Everything Egyptian is a developing subject within academic circles, mainly kept to the men’s clubs and whatnot.”
“It was… still is, for research never ceases and knowledge is always moving forward.” She shrugged. “Learning such shouldn’t only be kept to one sex. It’s fascinating, besides.”
“Now you’ve piqued my personal interest.”
“Ah.” The crisp, clean scent of him threatened to drown her. “Perhaps you’ll come with me to the lounge? We can speak more privately there.”
“Of course.”
The reading room would be full at this hour, but the lounge, though crowded during teatime, had more privacy because people could converse at tables or sofas.
When they settled at a small table near a window where the rain slashed against the glass, she introduced herself.
“Good afternoon. I’m Miss Pickwick, and I can read hieroglyphs as well as some Hieratic.
I might be of assistance, or I might not, but my father is a professor at Cambridge.
Studying the ancient world has always been in my life. ”
“Ah, excellent.” He nodded. Drops of rain dotted the shoulders of his greatcoat as well as his top hat. “I’m Scarborough.”
Oh, I am well aware. The heat of him fairly reached out and grabbed her, and the sound of his voice sent delicious shivers over her skin. She gave him a smile. “Did you bring the text?”
“I did not. It’s at home in a safe since it’s quite old. The linen cover is crumbling in places.”
“Fair enough. Can you describe it?”
“Of course.” He lowered his voice, but that only made it more thrilling. “I found the slim volume in the hollowed-out pages of another book, not even on the same subject, so someone obviously wished it to remain hidden, either because of its age or its content.”
“Oh? How so?” Already, the story was fascinating.
“It’s some sort of Egyptian poetry, but I rather believe it’s an erotic love story following the journey of a couple. Or so I assume.”
She frowned. “Why do you think that?”
“It’s a delicate subject matter. Are you sure you wish to know?” When she nodded, he continued. A hint of ruddy color rose above his cravat. “There are drawings throughout that are quite graphic and of sexual positions.”
“I see.” Heat seeped into her cheeks. “Perhaps you should ask for a male reference, then. You might be more comfortable during the translation.” For it might prove scandalous.
“Best wishes.” When she rose to leave, he grabbed her wrist, his fingers tight and surprising on her arm.
Swift tingles jumped up her limb to her elbow.
“Please sit down, Miss Pickwick.” His intense gaze roved over her face. “Can you give me a translation expert off the top of your head?”
“No, but I—”
“Then why shouldn’t I hire you?”
Her heartbeat skittered into a fast rhythm. “For one, I’m unmarried. It would be a scandalous endeavor unless I bring a maid or companion.”
The duke shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t want extra company, for I’d like to keep the book a secret until I decide what to do with it.”
“Fair enough.” She nodded, but couldn’t think of anything else erudite to say.
“I can promise you’re in no danger of being molested.”
Well, that’s disappointing.
“Ah, because I’m clearly an old spinster? How rude.” She hadn’t meant to say that aloud, and to a duke no less, but it couldn’t be helped.
A faint grin tugged at the corners of his sensual mouth. “No, because this arrangement would be strictly business, of course.”
Insanity went through her brain, which stole her ability to remain professional. “Mmm, you don’t think you’re attractive to women, then?”
His flush darkened. “That didn’t occur to me.”
“Very well. I shall promise you the same.”
He frowned. “Meaning what?”
“That you won’t be molested by me.” And she winked. What was wrong with her? “When and where should I come to assess the text?”
For long moments, he rested his intense gaze on her while a shiver shot down her spine. “Tomorrow, if it’s convenient, at my townhouse.” Immediately, he gave her a calling card. “The day after if it’s not. Unless in doing so I’m taking you away from Christmastide planning.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle. “You are not. My father is occupied with writing a paper, so this is favorable; I don’t work at the lending library tomorrow.”
“Ah, excellent. Shall we say around two o’clock? We could share tea once you are finished.”
“Jolly good.” Then she frowned. “Though I’m not certain my assessment or translation can be wrapped up in a few hours.
” Then she stood, for if she lingered in his company for too much longer, she’d become a silly widgeon.
The duke rose to his feet as well. “I look forward to working with you, Your Grace.”
“Remember, no companion or maid. I believe we don’t require supervision, and I don’t want word of this find getting out.”
“Of course.” Was he odd or merely careful?
“Thank you. Then I shall see you tomorrow, Miss Pickwick.” With a nod, he exited the lounge, and she peered after him.
Good heavens. When her knees would no longer support her, Cate sat back down on her chair. How was she supposed to translate a book if the mere presence of him in a lending library had her reacting like a schoolgirl with her first crush?
Or worse?