“Don’t you escape all of the time in your never-ending line of parties and drinking and mischief?”
Her words hit like veritable blows. How the devil did she know that he took little pleasure in those youthful antics these days? Was it so very obvious?
“I’d never really thought of it like that,” he said.
“It is similar to what I do,” she said softly. “But at least mine will not leave you with a sore head. Now I must go. My sisters are waiting for me, and they will think that I have purchased the entire shop, and then I shall be in a great deal of trouble.”
“Are you not allowed to purchase the entire shop?” he teased, trying not to feel completely wrong-footed under her apt observation.
“I am allowed to purchase several books, but not the entire shop. That vast sum would leave any man, let alone my papa, aghast.”
He frowned, her tone indicating that he had given offense when he had truly meant none.
He knew that Edmund’s family did not have the kind of funds that his did. It was a difficulty for them. Edmund was going to have to make a great match. His sisters had already made several good matches. They would at least buoy the family up.
Suddenly, he realized that it was going to be very difficult for her if she did not find a good match herself. She’d been on the shelf, he knew, for at least a year, possibly longer.
When he really thought about it, he realized, dear God. When he returned each year for the London Season, he’d seen her at it for three years.
Was she completely unmarriageable?
Was she going to be a spinster?
He found himself horrified by the idea that such might be her fate. She deserved more than that. Society was cruel to young ladies without fortune who did not find a husband.
It was unfair.
Life was not fair.
He did not know why, but in her case, he felt a sudden spike of rage that she would face a precarious fate. And derision. She was so much more than a pretty face.
“You should tell me about France tonight,” she said, “and I shall tell you about the books that I enjoy.”
“A clever bargain,” he said swiftly with a bow. “I look forward to it.”
And with that, she turned from him in a surprising hurry, her cheeks pink as she rushed toward the front of the store.
Grabbing her umbrella as she went, she hurried out to the pavement in a flutter of blue fabric.
He found himself captivated as he watched the swish of her plain skirts.
Why was he suddenly so intrigued by her?
She was such an unusual young lady in her longing for solitude and the pages of a book, even in company. Perhaps that was it.
Her novelty.
He was bored.
Novelty might do some good for him. But he wondered if there was more. There had been something about the color in her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes, and the way that she had hid that book.
He wanted to know what it was. What could possibly make her, a young lady who was usually so staid, so excited? Tonight, he would find out. Tonight, he would allow himself the pleasure of her company. And he was going to enjoy every moment.
Chapter 3
As the last light of the sun slipped down over the horizon, leaving the London townhouse cast in shadow, Ophelia stood in the candlelight peering at her book.
She was attempting to truly make sense of the words therein.