“Ah, yes,” Rosemary replied. “My brother found an excellent partner in Miss Crompton,” Rosemary said briskly. The comment seemed rather more pointed than was required, and Clarissa noticed Rosemary was stabbing her holly into her bough with more force than necessary.
“However did you guess that riddle, Miss Crompton?” Lady Wilde said with a high laugh. “I could not think of anything at all that it pertained to. Lord Bolton is so clever with such things.” She looked at Clarissa scathingly. “I suppose it is like any word puzzle. If you know the rules anyone can solve it easily.”
Emily leaned over to address Rosemary. “Was it your aunt who wrote the riddles, Miss K—"
“And, of course, Pride and Prejudice is the best novel I have read in years. Have you read it, Miss Crompton?” Lady Wilde said, completely ignoring Emily’s attempt to speak.
“Yes, I have read Pride and Prejudice,” Clarissa replied. She glanced at her cousin, who had sat back in her chair and fallen silent.
“Miss Crompton is an avid reader,” Rosemary said swiftly. “I would wager she has read the library at Crompton Manor three times over.”
Clarissa gave her a reassuring smile. “Not quite that many. Perhaps only twice.” That comment prompted a laugh from Emily.
“But of course, reading has its place. I do find those whose only discourse is literature abominably dull.” Lady Wilde said as she tied a bow at the base of her ornament.
Clarissa paused, wondering if she imagined the lady’s tone. Lady Wilde had brought up the topic of books, and it seemed decidedly odd that she was now deriding it. Lady Wilde held up her kissing bough, which was by far the best on the table, and sighed.
“I simply do not know how you do it, Miss Crompton. Yours is so dear and sweet. I have made this great monstrosity.” She laughed at herself and caught the attention of Lady Eleanor who was most quick to compliment her efforts.
As the two women conversed enthusiastically, Lady Eleanor spoke of where the boughs would be hung later in the week. She complimented Lady Wilde by telling her that her creation would be somewhere very central and visible. At that point, they were drawn into discussion with Lady Bartholemew at the next table and turned away.
When they were no longer within hearing distance, Emily rose and went over to her aunt’s table to beg for some ribbon, as she had frayed all of hers, leaving Rosemary and Clarissa alone.
“I do dislike that woman,” Rosemary hissed, to Clarissa’s surprise.
“Lady Wilde?” she asked, pretending she did not know.
“Indeed. She has not stopped fawning over my brother for the past two days, and I know she is only interested in his title.”
“We cannot know that, though,” Clarissa said carefully, eyeing Lady Wilde across the room. She was about to say how pleasing any woman might find Lord Bolton, but she quickly bit her tongue.
“I just hope he is not foolish enough to fall for her charms,” Rosemary said darkly. “She is a very beautiful woman. Any man would be blind not to notice her.”
“She certainly has a very fashionable wardrobe.”
Rosemary scoffed. “Too fashionable. We are not in a Parisian ballroom; she is overdressed for a simple morning activity. I hope she skewers her dress with a pin.”
Clarissa knew she should chide her friend for her conduct, but she enjoyed being in someone’s confidence again.
In her heart, any criticism of Lady Wilde also helped to raise her spirits.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nicholas closed the library door, heaving a sigh. It was a relief to find some solitude. The house party had been relatively bearable until now, but he was grateful for the peace and quiet.
The library was ornate and well-designed, with high shelving all around the walls and some narrow nooks where one could find privacy to read alone. He leaned against the door, looking up at the painted ceiling and listening to the quiet amidst the shelves.
There was a long window at one end of the room flooding everything with light. He watched the dust dancing in the pale winter sunshine and took a moment to gather his thoughts.
“Have you not read enough books in your lifetime?” came an ironical voice nearby, and Nicholas grinned as Henry emerged from between the narrow shelves holding a thick tome in one hand.
“Are you studying geography?” Nicholas countered as he squinted at the book in Henry’s hands, which seemed to be a large atlas.
“Goodness no. There is a table in my bedroom that is crooked, and I thought this could go beneath the fourth leg.”
Nicholas snorted. “As if you would use my aunt’s books so ill.”
Henry gave his usual easy smile, but there was a hesitancy about him. Nicholas wondered if he had meant to avoid discovery.
