Page 29 of The Girl Out of Time
Leon’s wound had been covered in a pristine white bandage, and he’d been left alone.
Emmeline paused by the side of the bed. “Leon?”
He was still sleeping, but he shifted his head as she called his name.
She kneeled beside him. “It’s me! I’m not sure what’s going on yet, but I’ll find out. And you’re going to be just fine.”
His eyelids twitched. “No,” he murmured.
“Yes, you will be, I promise.”
“Ship sinking … get off … get off … Jean-Baptiste …”
“No, no, the ship is all right. I’m not sure where exactly it is, though,” she said, even as she realized he wasn’t responding toher. He was dreaming. An unpleasant dream, by the sound of it, but she didn’t dare wake him up from his rest.
“Everything is going to be all right,” she repeated, in case he could hear her, and left.
It was only when she was already out in the hallway that it hit her. He’d spoken in French.
The footman was still in the foyer when she returned. She cleared her throat and made a side-step toward him. “Uh, library?”
He sprang to life. “This way, my lady.” He showed her to a double door, and Emmeline stepped into a long room, bordered by windows on one side. Books in all shapes, sizes, and covers, filled the shelves that occupied every available inch of the space. The curtains were half-drawn, reducing the light to a cozy, dusk-like setting and making the room feel as if it was a treasure to be hidden from the outside world.
Well, it was—that, and heaven.
But as much as Emmeline would’ve loved to curl up with a good romance book for the next few hours, she had a mission. Books said a lot about people, and she needed to know more aboutthesepeople. Louisa, for example, seemed to prefer scientific titles. But what else did the family like, and who were they?
She passed between bookshelves, brushing her fingers across the spines. A fair bit of fiction. She pulled out a sturdy, leather-bound edition of theDivine Comedy. Goodness, this thing looked old—and valuable. Golden illuminations and hand-painted illustrations …
“You must be the young lady my son is marrying,” a voice said from behind, making Emmeline yelp and almost drop the book.
An older man sat behind a writing desk, shoved into a corner as if it was but an afterthought. His bushy, graying sideburns twitched as he smiled at her.
“I’m so sorry!” She put the book back on the shelf. “Your Grace?”
He didn’t correct her, so she must’ve assumed correctly.
“No need to apologize, especially for wanting to read.” He approached, tilting down his spectacles. “Divine Comedy. Good choice. I don’t think my son deserves you.”
“Uh …”
“But my wife will appreciate you not laughing at my jokes.”
Now, she did laugh.
“Oh! You’ve lost her.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” she said. “I thought I was alone.”
“Well, if you need any help, I’m here to serve.”
“Do you have any books about nobility? Noble families, and such?” That would be of great use. She didn’t know how prominent the Greys were, but if she was marrying a duke’s son, they had to be titled, and they’d be in the book, along with this family. She desperately needed any information she could get. What if someone asked her—Miss Grey’s—father’s name and she didn’t know it?
The duke lifted an eyebrow.
“I like reading about them.” She shrugged.
“Hmm. And I thought Louisa had eccentric taste. But,Debrett’sshould do.” He brought over a thick book bound in wine-red leather. He set it on a table by the window and gestured to Emmeline.
