Chapter One #2
“Then why am I holding it?” he asked.
“You have longer arms,” she said simply. “And surely, the gentlemanly course of action would be to defer to the lady’s choice. One wouldn’t want to be rude.”
The corners of his mouth quirked in a hint of a smile. His grip on the book tightened, as did her hand on it.
“What is your interest in it?” he asked.
“I like the stories. What about you?”
“Someone close to me requires it.”
“Oh.” She faltered, ready to let go, when he said, “Otherwise, I wouldn’t go near such tripe.”
Her eyes narrowed. She gripped the book harder, ready to rip it out of his hands. He didn’t deserve it. She would protect it at all costs. “The Brothers Grimm is not tripe.”
He laughed. “Next, you’ll be saying The Monk is quality fiction. Honestly, I despair at the literature on the market today.”
“And why is that? Are you such a connoisseur?” Her voice was sharp.
He had been looking away, but now his gaze was fixed on her, like a hawk’s. “And are you so well-read that you can judge the literary tastes of strangers you’ve just met?”
“I wouldn’t dare. Except when they declare the Brothers Grimm to be tripe. Then I know they have no taste, only unfounded opinions.”
They frowned at each other. Her blood began to rise. They stood a mere foot away. She could make out his square jaw. The almond flecks of his brown eyes. He was almost handsome. In an insufferable sort of way. She didn’t like him.
A pleasant, light laugh sounded from behind her shoulder, catching his attention.
Isobel said, “Don’t be silly, Sibyl. Give the man his book.
” To the man in question, she said, “She’s always like this around books.
Always stuffing her nose in them and ignoring all polite society.
I swear, if it weren’t for our friendship, she’d be positively hopeless. ”
Another little laugh. This grated on Sibyl’s ears.
The man’s eyes flicked to her. He did not speak, only grunted.
She frowned at him.
He sighed and released the book into her hands. “Far be it from me to stand between a lady and her book.”
Sibyl clasped the book to her chest, ready in case he made a play for it again. “Thank you.”
“I hope you enjoy it.”
“I will.” She swallowed. Her heart began to pound. Why, she didn’t know.
They frowned at each other, eyes meeting. It was like having a staring contest with a stone. And yet she was determined to win.
Isobel put a hand on her shoulder. “Come, Sibyl. Pay for your little book and then let’s go. I want to try the sweets at the shop over there.” She flounced away.
The gentleman in olive green bowed and stepped back.
He perused the selection of books but seemed to stand at attention as Sibyl paid the bookseller and promised to return the books within the week.
She cast a dark glance at the gentleman and saw him look away, then felt eyes on her as she waited for the proprietor to wrap up her parcel in fresh paper before holding it close to her side.
Part of her wanted to offer the book to the handsome stranger with poor taste, but they had already crossed a line, so to speak.
She’d spoken to a man without being properly introduced, and that was definitely out of character for well-bred young women like herself.
Sibyl came from a good family, and her mama would not be pleased to hear she’d spoken to a gentleman so, or so rudely.
Sibyl consoled herself with the thought that the man himself had been rather rude, so she was not entirely at fault.
In stories, the men were heroic, charming, and never rude.
He clearly was not up to their standards, even if he was handsome.
She turned and walked away, joining Isobel later.
As she and Isobel perused the small shelves and boxes of marzipan and sweets on display at the little shop, Isobel asked, “Who was that?”
“Who?”
“The gentleman to whom you were talking, silly. How do you know him?”
“I don’t. We’ve never met.”
“Ha. Well, the way you two were talking, it seemed like he knew you very well. You’re not keeping secrets from me, are you? Seeing a beau on the side?” Isobel tilted her head and watched her.
Sibyl laughed. “Hardly. I’ve never seen that man before in my life.
Besides, you know I’ve never had a beau before.
And I’d never keep a secret from you.” Not my best friend.
But she had been a little surprised at hearing about Isobel’s approaching engagement.
It seemed like only yesterday Isobel had shared she had met a young soldier at a dance and had been due to take an escorted walk with him in a park soon.
Now she was engaged. With Isobel’s desire to find a marriage partner and live out her dreams at age twenty-one, Sibyl sometimes wondered if this was a flight of fancy.
But the locket with Mr. Day’s hair suggested it was serious, so she would be happy for Isobel.
Isobel smiled. “I know. I just marvel at your innocence sometimes. That was the perfect chance to make an introduction outside of the usual confines of prior mutual acquaintances, and you missed the opportunity entirely. I swear, if it weren’t for me, I doubt you’d ever leave the house.
You certainly wouldn’t go out in society. ”
“I do go out, sometimes.” But she would rather have been inside with a good book. Especially on a cold, rainy day.
“Like when?” Isobel teased.
“Last week. Mama took me to the Theatre Royal. To see Shakespeare’s As You Like It.”
“That was playing ages ago. Honestly, Sibyl, I despair of you, truly. You’re sweet and so optimistic at times.” Isobel laughed and lowered her eyelashes at two men walking past. She pulled out a fan from her reticule and fanned herself, shooting the men a little look.
Sibyl raised an eyebrow at her friend. Isobel was often a flirt, but she was engaged now. Surely, it was time to stop such games and focus on her upcoming nuptials, rather than tease young men?
“How is your Mr. Day?” Sibyl asked.
A flash of some emotion, unreadable, crossed Isobel’s face. “Fine. He calls on me at all times of day. Like you, he’s a morning person.”
Sibyl realized it was true. She was a morning person.
She liked nothing better than to wake up early, open her eyes to the world, and hear the birds singing on the tree branches outside her window.
She loved hearing their little trills and songs.
The tunes made her feel alive, and like everything was all right with the world, because if the birds were singing, then it was the start of not just a new day, but a good day.
Sibyl pointed at a piece of marzipan, shaped like a fruit. “How about that?”
“Ooh, good idea. We’ll take a box,” Isobel told the shopkeeper confidently.
As they waited for the man to take payment and wrap up the small box of marzipan to share, Isobel leaned over to her and said quietly, “You know, I’ve heard about a new place where people go to meet.”
“What, like a museum?”
“No, silly. Nor a ball, nor a dining room.”
“You mean a party,” Sibyl said.
“I don’t. I mean a place where men and women go to gamble, and play cards, and dance, and it’s… I think it sounds wonderful.”
Sibyl frowned.
“Oh, don’t make that face,” Isobel said. “Your forehead wrinkles when you’re thinking something desperately disapproving. I was just saying. There’s a place where people go. They’re free, away from the confines of polite society.”
Sibyl wasn’t so sure, but her curiosity was piqued. “What’s it called?”
“The Lion’s Hen. Or Zoo. Maybe it’s a traveling zoo.
A menagerie. I don’t know. I heard two women talking about it earlier in passing.
One said she’d lost fifty guineas at cards there the other night, and the other woman said, ‘Well, what did you expect? It was either that or your diamond necklace.’” Isobel’s eyes danced.
“Can you imagine? These were old society matrons, gambling with precious jewelry.”
Sibyl blinked. She’d never heard of such a thing. “So such a place really exists, you think?”
“Yes. And what’s more, I’m going to find it. The Lion’s Menagerie,” Isobel said proudly.
The young women walked through the rest of Borough Market and shared the fruit-like marzipan. While Isobel pointed out fascinating sights and interesting-looking shops and stalls, Sibyl’s mind wandered. Could such a place really exist? It sounded like a place out of her books.
She’d read enough novels to know that hidden gambling dens and places of iniquity were the stuff of legends, where plucky heroines found themselves stolen away and needed to find their own way out through their wits or be rescued by a handsome hero.
Either way, they were trouble. How exciting. She must admit, it sounded intriguing.