“How extraordinary. So you think it’s lucky?”
“I don’t think. I know. This coin is going to change my life. Great things lie ahead for me.”
She glanced at him, sensing he actually believed in its ability to change his fortune. It reminded her of the way she wished upon stars at night. “What sort of great things?”
He squinted up at the ceiling before saying, “When I have enough money saved, which won’t be for at least another three to four years, I intend to buy back my father’s estate in Devonshire and invite my aunt, her husband and children out of Paris to visit with me every summer. I have nieces and nephews I would like to see more of.”
She blinked. “Your nieces and nephews are fortunate to be so well thought of. And what do you mean you intend to buy back the estate? Do you no longer have the estate?”
His features grew somber. “No. It left my family shortly after my mother died.”
“Oh.” Fingering the worn gold surface of the coin, she decided it was best to dash from this conversation. It was making him sad. Heavens, it was making
her
sad. “I hope the king’s sovereign brings you luck and more. And it will if you believe in it.” She smiled in an effort to cheer him and held it out.
“I appreciate the sentiment.” Reclaiming the coin, he smoothed it against his hand, admiring it, before tucking it into his pocket. “It’s the first time I’ve ever won anything. It makes me feel lucky.”
His words and his demeanor hinted that this Lord Caldwell wasn’t the rakish snob she had imagined he would be. “You seem very amiable. Which I will admit, surprises me.”
A smile cracked his somber appearance. “Does it?”
“Yes. From all the stories, I thought you were crazier than my brother.”
He leaned in. “Don’t believe everything you hear. No man is crazier than your brother.” He slowly grinned.
That overly inviting grin crinkled not only the edges of his mouth but his eyes in a way that made her inwardly melt. She liked this Caldwell. He seemed warm and genuine. And handsome. She liked the way his sunlit hair fell toward those smoky, dark eyes. The contrast between light and dark was striking. “How old are you? Twenty?”
He eyed her, his grin fading. “Why do you want to know?”
She shrugged. “Ah, you know how it is. A girl has to start considering prospects, and you seem intelligent enough and amiable enough for me to consider.”
He lowered his chin. “I’m five and twenty. Which is a bit old for your tastes.”
She attempted to keep her voice mature and breathy. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. According to Mama, a man needs to be at least ten years older than a woman if their minds are to ever meet. And Mama knows a thing or two about men, having dealt with Papa’s wild antics for well over twenty years. So tell me. Are you on the market for a wife? Or are you still debating?”
He smirked, searching her face. “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Annoyingly adorable?”
“
Annoyingly adorable
?” she echoed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“It is. I rarely find anyone to be both.” He reached out and dabbed her nose. “Might I ask which sister of the five you are?”
She set her chin, annoyed that he had just dabbed at her nose as if she were three. “I’m Lady Caroline. I’m the
oldest
of my sisters.” She made sure to emphasize that.
He paused. “
You’re
Lady Caroline?”
He said it as if there was something wrong with her. She really hated her brother sometimes. “Whatever Alex told you about me is a lie. I’m incredibly well mannered.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He switched the book he was holding into his other hand, intently searching her face. “Your brother, however, tells me you like to collect...
words
,” he stated ominously. “And not very nice ones at that.”
Leave it to her brother to snitch. “And? What of it?”
“Shouldn’t you be occupying yourself with more respectable activities? Such as singing and playing the pianoforte?”
She eyed him dubiously. “Have you met my family? We only sing and play the pianoforte when champagne is involved.”
“You’re too young for champagne.”
She held up two fingers. “I’ve had it twice.”
“Why does that not surprise me given who your father is?” He tapped the ladder. “Hold on with both hands, will you? You’re making me nervous. Or better yet, come down. There is no need for you to stay up on this ladder.”
“I prefer this height. I dislike looking up at people during a conversation, and you, my lord, are tall.” Adjusting her grip on the ladder, she glanced toward the vast open doorway of the library behind them. “Where is my brother anyway? Do you know? I haven’t seen him all morning. Or much of yesterday, for that matter.”
“He and I were out all of yesterday, last night, and most of this morning.”
“That is quite the endeavor. A day and a half? What were you two doing?”
He
puffed out his cheeks for a moment before deflating them.
“Praying.”
He must have thought she was stupid. “In other words, my brother debauched himself again, didn’t he? And apparently, you did, too. Though hopefully not together.”
His brows rose. “You did not just say what I think you did.”
She sighed, realizing that despite the fact he and her brother had known each other for years, he was still rather new to the wild ways of her family. “I know full well what goes on in the world and have since I was eleven when I accidentally caught my parents doing things with riding crops they shouldn’t have. They had to explain everything. And believe me when I say they didn’t leave anything out. In my humble opinion, and I do mean humble, my lord, you ought to be a better friend to my brother and cease encouraging him to chase women. Because it’s all he ever does. I ask of you, what if he gets the pox? What then? There is no cure for it, and he is the only heir to the Hawksford estate. My father says if a man is fortunate enough to survive any and all mercury treatments, which is rare, the pox still causes things to fall off. Important things.” She lowered her voice. “If you know what I mean.”
He stared. “You know far too much for your age.”
She rolled her eyes. “One can never know
too
much. Papa, Mama, and I always talk about everything. And I do mean everything. There isn’t a subject we don’t discuss. We are all very close like that.”
He hesitated. “I should probably go.”
“Oh, no, not close like
that
,” she corrected.
He cleared his throat and added, “I
really
have to go.”
Just when she was beginning to like him. Her heart dropped. “I’m overly forward in nature, aren’t I?”
“Oh, no. I was enjoying our conversation. Until we got on the topic of the pox.”
She cringed. She had to hold the reins better when it came to conversations. Sadly, she wasn’t used to associating with anyone outside her family. It was awkward.
He glanced around. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the cards are at? Baxendale said they would be in here. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
She blinked. “You and my brother plan on playing cards after being out a day and a half? Aren’t you both tired?”
He shrugged. “We slept in the carriage on the way back.”
“Oh.” She eased her grip on the ladder and remembered to breathe. “The cards are in the game box. Beside the window.”
“Thank you.” He stepped back with the book.
She inwardly winced, realizing he still had her brother’s obscene book in his hand. “Might I have my book back, please?” She tried to be casual about it.
“Of course. What are you reading? Anything good?” He glanced at the leather bound book that read
Confessions of a Voluptuous Young Lady
and paused, brows coming together as he turned the lettering toward himself.
Uh, oh.
He flipped it open. Paging through it slowly and then quickly upon realizing there were nude sketches of individuals in every compromising position possible, he eyed her. “You plan on reading this?”
For the first time in her life, she felt her entire face burn. She wasn’t used to explaining herself to people. Her parents were incredibly liberal and forgiving when it came to taboo subjects. Too liberal and forgiving. Mostly because they defined those subjects. As a result, her parents weren’t exactly popular with the
ton
. And she doubted she would be, either, when she debuted. “I never look at the pictures,” she quickly pointed out. “And I don’t read it, per say. I dig through it to find words. It’s research.”
“
Research
?” He wagged the book at her. “For God’s sake, you aren’t old enough for this sort of research.”
He sounded like her brother. “I beg to differ, but my age puts me at an advantage. It will take me
years
to record all of the words that go unnamed in a dictionary. Do you know how many pieces of obscene literature contain renditions of disreputable slang that have never been documented into the English language?”
His lips parted. “Why the devil are you documenting disreputable words?”
“Because it’s fascinating. It represents a facet of society no one cares to acknowledge. I plan on making a dictionary out of all the words and explaining the meaning of each one. ‘Tis never been done before and I have no doubt I could turn quite the profit. Though I suppose I should use a pseudonym. Lest I get arrested for it. Or hanged.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but a book like that already exists. It’s called
The Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue
. I own a copy.”
She officially felt ignorant. “You do?”
“I do.”
She hesitated. “Is it any good?”
“Yes. Very.”
She perked. “I would like to see what was done with it. Might I borrow it from you sometime?”
He widened his stance. “No. Absolutely not.”
She sagged. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t loan inappropriate books to girls still in the nursery.”
She tried not to be offended. “I’m not in the nursery anymore. I’ve had my own room since January.”
He slapped the book shut. “I don’t care. You aren’t reading this. Find another book. One more suited to your sex and age.”
Caroline clomped down the ladder, annoyed with him for not cooperating. With her feet still on the bottom step of the ladder, she said, “And who are you to say what is or isn’t appropriate to my sex and my age?”
“Aren’t you only thirteen?” he pressed.
“
Only
? I am but five years from being a debutante and have had my menses for a whole month. I could have children if I willed it.”
He glared. “I really didn’t need to know that.”
She glared back. “Clearly, you do. Because you’re treating me like a child.”
“Maybe because you
are
a child.” He angled toward her. “What would your father say if I told him you were reading this?”
That sounded like a threat. She hopped off the last step of the ladder, landing onto the floor beside him, and stared him down despite his imposing height. “My father believes in liberation through proper education, for which I am endlessly grateful. He says being ignorant to the ways of men can create problems for a girl like me. There are lecherous men in our society who methodically find and seduce naïve girls under the age of sixteen and guess what, my lord? I won’t be one of them.”
He paused and intently searched her face, but said nothing.
Which meant, she had won this debate in a single swing. “Seeing I have left you without any further words to impart pertaining to the subject, can I now have my book please? Because I am permitted to read any book in this library as long as I can reach it. Ask my father.”
He shifted his jaw and tapped the book. “Then I suppose this is off-limits. Because you weren’t able to reach it on your own, were you?” Tucking the book into the large pocket of his evening coat, he swung away and stalked toward the game box. Opening the box, he dug out a deck of cards.
For a man who gallivanted with her brother well into the morning hours doing heaven knows what for a day and a half, he was incredibly tight laced. “That isn’t your book,” she called.
“It is now,” he called back in agitation. “
Confessions of a Voluptuous Young Lady
, my nose. It was probably written by some lice-infested old man sitting in a cellar with his trousers around both ankles. I’ll be sure to dispose of it.”
She gasped. “I would say by the way you tucked it into your own pocket, you plan on reading it, not disposing of it.”
He captured her gaze. “I don’t read obscenities. It’s a waste of time.”
She blinked, feeling a blush coming on knowing they were openly discussing inappropriate books. “What sort of books do you read?” She wanted to know.
“Ones that inspire me to see past my nose.” With a long-legged stride that took him toward the door, he tossed over his broad shoulder, “Read
Persuasion
. You will never be the same.” With that, he left the room.
She jerked toward the shelf. Her mother had read that. “
Persuasion
?” she echoed after him. “Isn’t that a romance?”
He reappeared, leaning in against the doorframe with his shoulder. “Some say it is, but in my opinion it’s more of a commentary on what is possible if one’s sense of duty toward their name, their family, and society didn’t get in the way. My aunt gifted it to me a few years ago when it was first published. It’s one of my favorite books.” He paused and added, “Only don’t tell your brother I told you that or I’ll refute it.”
His favorite book was a romance? Written by a woman? It was like finally meeting a man who knew what he was doing. “You needn’t worry. I won’t tell him.”
“I appreciate that.” He thumbed toward the corridor behind him with the stack of cards he held. “I have to go. I shouldn’t keep your brother waiting.”
She tried to hide her disappointment. She didn’t want him to leave. He was far more interesting than any book she had ever read. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”
He eyed her. “Hearing you say ‘my lord’ makes me feel old and decrepit. Call me Caldwell, will you?”