Page 28 of Finding Hope
“Do you think they have the new book by Frances Burney?” Joy asked. “Miss Hillier has not been able to find it yet at Hookham’s.”
Hope looked around and tried to find a pattern to the book order, but all she could find were history books. “Perhaps we should ask? They might not have novels.”
“Surely they must. I do not think there can be only boring old history books with so many in the collection—unless there are duplicates on the higher shelves.”
Just then, Rotham strode into the library from the far side, looking intently at something in his hand. He was dressed casually in tall leather boots, riding breeches, and shirt-sleeves. His hair was ruffled as though he’d been running his hands through it, not at all like the normally immaculate London BeauHope was used to. Immediately, she felt warm inside. How could he be more handsome when dishevelled?
He stopped when he saw them and made a quick bow. “Ladies.”
They bobbed quick curtsies in greeting. Were they all as affected by him as she?
“Do you have novels, Rotham?” Joy asked, straight to the point. No one ever caused her to forget her words.
“Of course. Claudia keeps them over here.”
He rounded the corner to some shelves that were more hidden from public view.
Grace exclaimed at the vision before her. “Look, Joy! They have all the latest volumes. That confirms it. I am not leaving the library for my entire stay.”
“You are welcome to take them anywhere you wish, Miss Grace,” Rotham said with amusement.
Hope stood back and watched as her sisters greedily helped themselves to stacks of books. Rotham came to stand next to her.
“You did not go fishing with the other gentlemen, my lord?”
He held up the paper in his hand. “I intended to, but alas, something urgent needed my attention first. You did not wish to shop with the other ladies?”
“There is plenty of shopping to be had in London. We thought to spend the morning reading in the bath house. Lady Diana suggested it.”
“It is one of my favourite places to read as well. If you will allow me to give this to Abernathy, I will escort you there. It is on my way to the fishing pool.”
Hope watched him leave through yet another entrance, presumably to where Abernathy waited, that individual being, she guessed, the estate manager.
Rotham returned a few minutes later with his hair neatly combed and wearing a loose, dark coat. ’Twas not quite dinner party attire, but he was less unkempt than before. She wished the rest of the guests to the devil so she could have him thus relaxed and all to herself.
Being his duchess would be like that, she reminded herself. He had duties to hundreds of other people, even in the country. Could she bear being second to his duties?
Rotham guided them through one of the wings of the house and out of a side door. They stopped by the gamekeeper’s hut, as he called it, to collect his fishing gear. It was a beautiful stone building in keeping with the rest of the house.
They walked on towards the woods, which were full of mature trees, including oaks and elms, that provided shade and a sense of age and history to the landscape.
“And this is the bath house.” It was part conservatory, part bath house. One entire wall was made of glass and overlooked the river. The room was filled with plants, and it was warm and damp inside to foster their growth, he explained. At the centre, the famed mosaic was encased beneath a glass floor for preservation, and was a perfectly preserved image of Herculaneum surrounded by mermaids in bright tiles of blue and green.
A great place to escape reality. Hope immediately thought it was the best place she had ever been as she inhaled the scent of oranges, and understood the previous Duke’s obsession.
“There is also a bathing room, but the fires must be stoked higher to make the water warm enough. At present, they are kept smouldering enough to keep the plants growing. The plants were a later addition by the sixth Duchess.”
Her sisters hurried to claim their spots as if there weren’t enough to choose from, she mused, looking around at the dozennooks and chaise longues and even a couple of swings within the indoor garden.
Rotham grabbed her hand and tugged her. “This way,” he whispered.
He led her to a hidden alcove, in which another glass floor covered flowing water. She could see the water run on down the valley from there.
“This is my preferred spot,” he said, with a wink and a bow. “Until later.”
Hope sat on the green-cushioned seat and watched him leave. Not once did she open the book in her lap.
Rotham hadno desire to fish. He wanted to climb into that alcove with Hope and wile away the afternoon there with her and…those were dangerous thoughts.
