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“I never said such a thing,” Mary teased.
It was easy to speak with him about the book because it was more than just enjoying the work of an author; they were bonding in some way, through their understanding of the characters.
They were reading a commentary on the way they both viewed society. They were two people who did not enjoy being surrounded by others and they could share the delight of the story they were reading because it meant something deeper than the gossip and idleness of London social life.
“Well, I knew that you would be here, and I actually brought the book with me,” Lord Hanbrooke said.
“Oh? Did you wish to discuss it in detail?” she asked.
“In some ways, I suppose. But I had thought I would be ahead of you by now. I wanted to go back to where you were at and read to you from the next few pages. As it is, you are beyond where I am and now I feel like a fool,” he said self-deprecatingly.
He was still being humorous, but Mary sensed that he truly was disappointed that he would not be able to entertain her with something she had not yet read.
“Honestly, I would still like you to read from where you are at. It gets very good over the next chapter, and you will be shocked by some things that happen. But you must read to us. I know that Sarah and Lord Woodhall will enjoy it as well. Would you not?” Mary asked them.
“Certainly. I know that the both of you like these very tragic books, but I would be more than happy to listen, so long as no maiden dies,” Sarah remarked.
“No, that does not happen soon, I promise,” Mary said.
Lord Hanbrooke pulled the book from his pack and leaned back, sitting comfortably. His hand was so near to Mary’s and she was keenly aware of it. When she glanced at his face, she saw the faintest hint of a knowing smile, as if he, too, felt how close they were. And he was not going to move away.
“Are you ready for me to read?” he asked.
“Indeed, please do,” Mary confirmed.
Lord Hanbrooke cleared his throat and began.
Tabitha stood from her place at the table and she glared across the room. There he was—Arthur. Standing with all his pride, all his joy, and she with her sorrow and shame.
It had been but a month since he had torn her apart and yet, he cared nothing for her. Along traipsed a young woman, nearly six years junior to Tabitha. The young woman leaned in close to Arthur and kissed his cheek. There. In the middle of the crowded room.
And it was seen as nothing at all.
Lord Hanbrooke paused, as though it was difficult for him to read the passage. Mary understood. They had already been through a hundred pages with Tabitha and seen the grief she had endured at the hands of Arthur. Of course, Sarah and Lord Woodhall knew nothing about it, nor did they seem to care. They had no reason to.
“Are you quite all right, Crispin?” Lord Woodhall asked.
Lord Hanbrooke looked directly at Mary and their eyes met. She gave him a sympathetic smile and a nod.
“I expect that vindication is coming,” he said.
“Well, it is not the happiest book at this juncture, but we are not even a third of the way through the novel. There is much yet to happen and I have heard that it has an uplifting ending. We merely must endure their pain until then,” Mary said.
“Alternatively, you could try to read something that is far more delightful,” Sarah suggested.
“Such as?” Lord Woodhall asked.
“I enjoyedThe Pail and Pennyby Horace Menner,” Sarah replied.
“Is not Horace Menner the one many expect is a woman? And is the book not about a young lady discovering that she is actually nobility and not an orphan at all and she marries a duke and has six children in the end?” Mary asked.
“Oh, dear, now you have ruined it!” Sarah teased.
Both women knew that Lord Hanbrooke and Lord Woodhall would never read something so light and enjoyable, but Mary still had to tease Sarah about it. They were always joking with one another that Sarah’s books were for the hopeless romantic while Mary read works that were far too dire to enjoy.
But Mary’s attention soon refocused on Lord Hanbrooke. She could see that he was still bothered by what Arthur was doing to Tabitha, parading his young sweetheart around in front of the woman whose heart he had broken. More than likely, the novel would continue to express that men could get away with terrible things while women—and poor women in particular—were given no such grace.
“I fear what is to come,” Lord Hanbrooke said, sighing and marking his place in the book.
