Beguiled by a Baron (The Heart of a Duke Book 14)(11)

She hesitated, as an irrational fear needled around her insides that this was all some kind of grand trap and, at any moment, someone would jump forward, finger pointed, and calls for the constable flying from his lips.

“Hmm,” Mr. Lodge said with a frown, as he perused the room. He brightened. “Mr. Winterly should arrive shortly. If you’ll but wait until he returns?”

Bridget turned to offer her thanks but the words died on her lips, finding him already halfway down the hall. She stared bemusedly after him. What a…peculiar man. But then, she had spent so many years with only Nettie and Virgil for company that she’d settled into a largely quiet existence.

Taking a step inside the room, she assessed the office. The gleaming surface of the mahogany furniture and the leather button sofas and winged chairs all bespoke wealth and masculine elegance. It was not, however, the Chippendale furniture that commanded her notice. Motionless, she stood frozen, her gaze trained on the floor-length shelving that wrapped around the sprawling room. For all intents and purposes, it was a library. Yet, the pedestal desk on plinth bases with its leather top, and folios and ledgers gathered there marked it an office.

It was a perfect room for a man who dealt in first editions and had made a fortune on ancient tomes. Her fingers twitched. The need to pull each edition from the shelf and assess its age and history gripped her with a potent force. Surely there would be no harm in examining them? Except, given her intentions for Lord Chilton’s household, it would be an inauspicious beginning to be found poring over any of those tomes. As an inner battle waged between restraint and her own hungering, she cast a look over her shoulder. The hum of silence lingered in her one good ear. In the end, the pull of those books, however, proved too much.

Bridget drifted over to the front of the room, close to Lord Chilton’s desk and stopped. A foot away from the bookcases, she skimmed her gaze over the volumes.

Richard Verstegen: A Restitution of Decayed Intelligence: In Antiquities.

Edward Coke, Sir John Swinton, George Baker Quinta pars relationum Edwardi Coke Equitis aurati, Regij Attornati Generalis / The fifth part of the reports of Sr. Edward Coke Knight, the Kings Attorney Generall.

She mouthed the titles of book after book. Seventeenth century works, they’d each been reprinted numerous times in that century alone. Closing her eyes, Bridget breathed deep the scent of the old works. That scent, beautiful and rich, filled her nose, calming her. And for the first time since she’d agreed to help Archibald, there was something more than fear and regret—there was excitement at working beside books she’d never touch in the whole of her existence.



Magnifying glass in hand, Vail examined Johann Coler’s astrological works he’d acquired from auction.

“Torn pages,” Edward Winterly, Vail’s brother, business partner, and man-of-affairs, stood at his shoulder as he viewed Vail’s morning acquisitions.

“Several of the books,” he conceded, setting aside the glass and book. “But the set can be broken up and will earn considerable coin for the copies that are intact.”

Edward snorted. “I hope yesterday’s purchase from Derby fares in better shape.”

By way of answer, Vail swiped the drawstring velvet bag from the edge and held it over. “Near flawless.” He rolled his shoulders to ease some of the tension he’d amassed from being bent over his work.

His brother grinned. Not unlike Vail himself, Edward revealed a tangible excitement in triumphing over members of the peerage. “So the transaction was a success, then.” White gloves already donned, his brother carefully loosened the drawstrings and withdrew the volume in question. He laid it on the satin fabric draped over the table.

“Yes,” he agreed as Edward examined the recent addition to his collection. Vail tightened his mouth as annoyance with Derby’s actions stirred back to life. “But not before Derby tried to maneuver another purchaser.” His brother briefly lifted his attention from that coveted tome. “Wanted to secure funds to compete for the Chaucer.” That first edition work men would fight, kill, or steal for, and for that reason it had been carefully hidden away until it went to auction.

“Ahh,” Edward said understandingly. “No one ever claimed Derby had a brain in his head.”

“A love of books and literature hardly determines how grounded or logical a person is,” Vail agreed.

Edward, engrossed in that copy, devoted all his attentions to Vail’s most recent acquisition. “It lacks the tract De iure Regis ecclesiastico, as found in most copies,” Edward correctly observed.

“Yes.” It was a testament to its rarity. A wave of pride filled him. Born to different mothers but also both bastards of the Duke of Ravenscourt, Vail had discovered Edward four years earlier, mucking out the stables of a pompous lord. It was the last horse shite any one of his kin would shovel. From then on, Vail had resolved to find his siblings where he could and help them all make better lives for themselves. Since he’d joined Vail’s employ, his brother had proven adept at assessing the value, worth, and integrity of coveted books and documents. Whereas Vail didn’t care about the words on those pages past the fortunes they earned him, Edward had an abiding appreciation for the profits and the content in those books.

“Are you ready for me to locate a buyer for it?” He directed that question towards the book. Vail set prices and drove meetings and decisions but, as his man-of-affairs, Edward oversaw the acquisition of purchasers.