“Oh. Lavoisier and Dalton?”
“Yes, those. Precisely. I came to the library looking for the books but also hoping you would be here as well. So, you can show me where the books are, and I will not have to look so long.” He turned to Lady Abigail. “I’m sad to say I am something of a dunce, my lady.”
She tittered. “I do not believe that a bit, my lord. I have never heard of Lavoisier and Dalton, but they sound like difficult texts.”
“Not,” said Lillian, “if you're familiar with the concepts they speak of. They are imperative texts, however, and I suppose you need them, Lord Devon.” She stood, found the books, and handed them over.
She needed to get rid of him.
He had done much for Lady Abigail’s confidence and mood, and Lillian felt gratitude toward him for it, but he impacted Lillian in an entirely opposite manner. Her heart had done foolish little flips when he’d said he hoped to find her.
He lifted the books into the air as he walked backwards toward the door. “Great thanks, beautiful ladies.” With a wink at Lady Abigail, he turned and left just as abruptly as he'd come.
Lillian picked up a biscuit and bit into it. Its buttery texture crumbled on her tongue, and she swallowed it down with a bit of tea.
Lady Abigail stared open-mouthed at the door.
“Do not worry,” Lillian said. “You will recover soon enough. I was like that the first time I met him as well. He should come with a warning.”
“Quite right.” Lady Abigail sounded breathless. “Do not look directly at the sun.”
Lillian grinned. “Has charm, will dazzle.”
“Protect your hearts.”
Lillian had no way to come back to that suggestion. It was the truest warning for Lord Devon she’d ever heard, and she wished she’d taken it seriously, sooner. Before her heart had become so hurt.
“Does he live here?” Lady Abigail asked.
“No. No. Well, at least not formally. He’s here quite often, though. He’s a sort of unconventional apprentice to my father.”
Lady Abigail’s eyes bloomed stars. “Your father is a genius.”
“So they say. Speaking of fathers… yours does not like me.”
Lady Abigail grimaced. “Father approves of few outside his circle. He is a bit high in the instep.”
Very high.
Lady Abigail’s lips twisted, and her hands did, too. “I know what my father is. I assume most people know their fathers well enough to see their flaws.”
“True. I know mine.”
“Your father’s flaws or your own?” Abigail asked with a grin.
Lillian grinned, too. “You’re bolder than you like to let on, Miss Sass.Hmph. I’m aware of both my own flaws and my father’s, I should hope. It’s good to know your flaws, especially if you wish other people to see you.”
Abigail clicked the side of her teacup with her fingernail and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t wish people to see my flaws more than they already can.See you. You keep talking about that, about being seen and not being ignored. Not being invisible.”
“No one wants to be invisible.”
“You might have the right of it. I know when Lord Kent noticed me, I felt bubbly, alive. Yet, I do not believe it to be a romantic attachment. It was simply nice to beseen, to be appreciated for who I am.”
“Precisely.”
“What now?” Lady Abigail asked. “I looked up, and I caught Lord Kent’s attention, but what next? I suppose that’s the other reason I’m here.”
Lillian picked up a teaspoon and stirred it in her tea as she gave the question her full consideration. Not quite proper, but the sound of silver striking porcelain and the swish of the liquid helped her think, sparked ideas in her brain. “You figure out who you want the world to see. The image of the salon intellectual was mine based on what little knowledge I have of you. You must craft an image yourself, and then we can think about how to convey that image to others. How to get them to take notice of it. I decided I wanted to be a diamond, an incomparable. I did what had to be done to achieve that goal.”
