Love In The Library
Praise for
The Brides of Bath
series
Cheryl Bolen’s writing draws you into her fast-paced story. 4 Stars –
RT Book Reviews on The Bride Wore Blue
Cheryl Bolen returns to the Regency England she knows so well. . .If you love a steamy Regency with a fast pace, be sure to pick up
The Bride Wore Blue
. –
Happily Ever After
Cheryl Bolen does it again! There is laughter, and the interaction of the characters pulls you right into the book. I look forward to the next in this series. 4 Stars –
RT Book Reviews on With His Ring
“A story of healing, forgiveness and change that will make readers cheer.” –
RT Book Reviews on The Bride’s Secret
"Bolen's writing has a certain elegance that lends itself to the era and creates the perfect atmosphere for her enchanting romances." –
RT Book Reviews on To Take This Lord
eBooks available from award-winning author Cheryl Bolen
Regency Historical Romance:
The Brides of Bath Series
The Bride Wore Blue*
With His Ring*
The Bride’s Secret (
previously titled
A Fallen Woman*
To Take This Lord (
previously titled
An Improper Proposal)*
Love In The Library*
The Regent Mysteries Series
With His Lady's Assistance*
A Most Discreet Inquiry*
The Theft Before Christmas*
A Lady by Chance*
The Earl's Bargain
My Lord Wicked
His Lordship's Vow
Lady Sophia's Rescue
Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas)*
Marriage of Inconvenience*
A Duke Deceived*
One Golden Ring*
Romantic Suspense:
Texas Heroines in Peril Series
Protecting Britannia*
Murder at Veranda House*
A Cry In The Night
Capitol Offense
Falling For Frederick*
World War II Romance:
It Had to Be You
(Previously titled
Nisei
)*
American Historical Romance:
A Summer To Remember (3 American Romances)
*Also published in paperback
Love In The Library
(The Brides of Bath, Book 5)
Cheryl Bolen
Copyright © 2014 by Cheryl Bolen
Love In The Library
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Catherine Bexley had been removed from Society—and these sweltering Upper Assembly Rooms—for too long. Her good manners had eroded most deplorably, but she simply could not force herself to listen to Maxwell Longford's incessant prattle when other, more interesting topics were being discussed so close at hand.
She was far more interested in Felicity Moreland's conversation. (Though Catherine was quite certain anyone else's words would be more interesting than Mr. Longford's yawn-worthy accounts of his brother's betrothed—a sixth cousin, twice removed, to a viscount.)
While nodding at and faintly smiling at Mr. Longford as if she had actually been listening to him, Catherine inched across the settee that faced the dancers in order to be closer to Felicity. Now less than a foot separated the two ladies—the same distance that now separated Catherine from the stricken-looking Mr. Longford. It was a gap the determined man soon closed—without the least lapse in his monologue.
Felicity was telling her companion about one of the Steffington twins. "Melvin is nothing like his rakish brother," Felicity had said. "He's quite the bookish one. Can you credit it? One of my brother's friends actually taking a doctorate at Oxford in classical literature? There's nothing Mr. Steffington doesn't know about old books and manuscripts."
At the mention of old books, Catherine's interest spiked.
"That's why I brought up this topic," Felicity continued, lifting her gaze toward the crush of couples dancing in front of them while continuing to speak to the matron beside her. "He's seeking a position at a private library, and I immediately thought of your brother's."
"Oh, dear me." Felicity's rotund companion twisted at the string of huge pearls which dangled from her flabby neck. "Wharton's already got the most able man you can imagine running the library at Havenworth." The older woman shook her head sadly. "Such a pity
that
Steffington twin shall have to
earn
his living." She could not have sounded more sympathetic were the unfortunate twin lying upon his deathbed. "And to think, the one who shared the womb with him is a baronet!"
The beautiful Felicity offered her companion a devilish smile. "You must know, Lady Ann, that I find much to admire in men who make their own way in life."
Lady Ann's hand flew to her mouth, and crimson rose to her cheeks. "I had quite forgotten your dear husband was a nabob."
Catherine herself had difficulty remembering Thomas Moreland's humble origins. Not that she gave a whit about maintaining the separation of classes. She'd read too much Thomas Paine. (So much, in fact, that her late husband had thrown out her copy of
Common Sense
when Catherine had suggested their footman be permitted to vote, and her
Rights of Man
was pitched into the fire when Mr. Bexley learned she had sat down to tea with their cook.)
Soon the two other women began remarking on the young beauties in Bath this Season, and Catherine's interest wilted.
"I say, Mrs. Bexley," Catherine's male companion droned on as she fanned herself, "I know you don't fancy standing up with men so soon after throwing off your widow's weeds, but surely you don't find a daytime ride in Sydney Gardens too frivolous."
This was the first time Catherine had actually listened to the poor bore since taking her seat on the scarlet damask settee that fringed the ballroom. Now she availed herself of the opportunity to peer at the man. He was possessed of an aquiline nose and strong chin and a very fine face that was framed with fashionably styled hair the color of bark. His starchy cravat was expertly tied in the waterfall fashion. There was nothing in his appearance that did not please. Unless he was standing. His height was considerably shorter than the average man.
"I don't think riding is at all frivolous, Mr. Longford. I know ever so many serious-minded persons who do so daily."
"Then it will be my pleasure to collect you tomorrow afternoon." His watery blue eyes flashed, and his brows lifted cockily. "Now that you have so singularly honored me."
She was rather relieved that her rude disinterest had gone unnoticed by Mr. Longford. What a fine actress she must be. (Or did he believe his words so fascinating that everyone to whom he spoke listened rapturously?)
The man actually felt himself honored! Now if he would just leave her. She was most anxious to question Felicity about the scholarly twin. Perhaps if she were overtly rude to the man beside her, he would take his leave.
It did not come to that. Mr. Longford soon caught a glimpse of his brother—no doubt standing up with the sixth cousin, twice removed, of the much-respected Viscount Someone Important—and asked permission to take his leave. "I must make myself agreeable to Miss Turner-Fortenbury, who you will remember is the cousin of Lord Finchton."
"Sixth cousin, is she not?" Catherine said, offering him a coy smile.
"Indeed she is. It will be just one more connection between my family and the nobility—once she weds my brother."
As he walked around the perimeter of the ballroom, his brows perfectly level with most of the lady's bosoms, it occurred to Catherine that one of the reasons Mr. Longford persisted in sitting beside her could be that he was pleased to find a lady who did not dance. It must be embarrassing when a man's dance partners all exceeded him in height.
Another of her attractions to him, though, could be her connection to the Earl of Mountback. That sort of thing seemed to hold great appeal for Mr. Longford.
Flicking her hand-painted fan against the chamber's stuffy air, Catherine immediately faced her old friend, the fair and lovely Felicity. "Pray, can you tell which Steffington twin is which?"
The lady shook her head. "Blanks is the only one who's ever been able to tell them apart, though I do seem to recall that Glee indicated she thought she was growing proficient at how to detect which was which—or who was who."
"I've never been able to understand how one does tell one identical twin from the other," Catherine said.
As Catherine spoke, Felicity's older companion stood. Light from the five massive chandeliers which trailed along the ballroom ceiling far above illuminated her face as her glance fanned over the assembled dancers. "I seem to have lost sight of my Maryann. I shall just have to assure myself the delicate girl hasn't fainted. It is so terribly hot in here."
Catherine did not understand how anyone could lose sight of Maryann St. Clare for the lady was exceedingly large. Catherine had easily witnessed the violet mass that was the lady's dress amble through the generous doorway to the tea room, where an assortment of cakes was no doubt currently passing through that young lady's lips.
Once Lady Ann made her way toward the tea room, Felicity turned her full attention upon Catherine. "I am so happy to see you back in Society, as are many of the gentlemen here tonight. You are being much too severe in not standing up with them. It's been over a year since Bexley died."
"I know you're right. It's not just that I find dancing frivolous after a death. I also do not like to encourage any men because I have no desire to remarry." Catherine suppressed a yawn, thankful that the evening's festivities would soon draw to a close. She had made the curious discovery that sitting and watching dancers was far more tiring than actually dancing.
Felicity remained quiet, but her sapphire eyes softened. Now Catherine understood why Felicity's husband always preferred her in blue as she wore this night, no doubt to please him.
Catherine shrugged. "Of course, I may be forced to marry if I can't reclaim Mr. Bexley's legacy."
Because they were good friends, Felicity was one of the few persons who knew about Catherine's precarious financial situation. "It's quite beastly that Bexley's only thing of value was stolen. I think you should let it be known far and wide that Bexley's rare treasure was stolen. That should keep an unsuspecting collector from buying it."
"I wish I could, but to honor Bexley's memory, I refused to let it be known that one single item was his only valuable possession, though I will own, it was
extremely
valuable. Poor Mr. Bexley was such a proud man. He wanted all his friends to think him wealthy." Honoring the image her late husband tried to project was her peculiar way of atoning to him for being a merry widow.
"He was far too proud, and I wish you wouldn't canonize the man. He was a most insensitive husband, and well you know it."
"Oh, I do. That's why I must see that memories associated with Mr. Bexley are pleasant ones, for I'm afraid his final resting place is anything but pleasant."