“Who are they?” Harriet asked.
Frances leaned close as if to share a secret. “To be honest, we don’t know. The paintings were here when we moved in. Mother thought they looked too important to take them down.” She held a finger to her lips. “But you’re sworn to secrecy on that subject.”
Harriet smiled. It seemed she would be keeping a few secrets while she was here.
Frances moved to the shelves near the window. “This is my favorite section, so I recommend browsing these first.”
Harriet joined her, pleased to see several familiar titles. “Isn’t it wonderful that Captain Shaw is writing a mystery?”
Tibby’s new husband had started writing a book at Tibby’s urging. The league members were excited at the thought of knowing an author.
“I cannot wait to read it,” Frances said. “I think mysteries are my second favorite kind of book.”
“With romantic tales being your first?”
“Exactly.” She sighed, pressing a hand over her heart. “I love happy endings.”
“On that, we agree.” Whether she would ever have her own happy ending remained to be seen.
“Watching Phoebe and Tibby has convinced me that I shouldn’t simply wait to see if a man notices me.” Frances ran a finger along the spines of the books, though it was obvious her thoughts were not on reading. “But I hope not to encounter the problems they did. That is why I want to do things differently.”
“How so?”
“We can no longer assume that our mission ofFor Better or Worseis secret. Not with Lady Lucinda and Lady Jane knowing. Who knows who they’ll tell next?”
“True.” The sisters were terrible gossips and had overheard Phoebe and Frances discussing the initiative at a ball.
They’d nearly ruined things for Phoebe with the Earl of Bolton. Then they tried a similar tactic with Tibby and her Captain Shaw.
Harriet sighed. “I fear that by not allowing them to join the Mayfair Literary League, we might have created enemies of them.”
Frances frowned. “What choice did we have when they admitted they don’t like to read? That is the main purpose of a book club—to read and discuss books.”
“I agree, but that doesn’t lessen my concern. They seem intent on spreading the news of our agenda.”
“Well, we won’t have to worry about them during the house party. They were not included on the guest list.”
“Thank goodness,” Harriet said. “How clever of you to manage to have your gentleman invited here. That should make it easier to catch his attention.”
When it was her turn, how would she find a time or place to speak with Viscount Garland? Attempting to make a bold move at a ball—if he happened to attend one as he didn’t often—seemed impossible.
Then again, encountering him on Bond Street had been unexpected. Several times over the past few days, her heart had raced at the memory of his mother stepping into the street in front of the carriage. What if she hadn’t seen her? What if she hadn’t reached her in time?
Harriet suppressed a shudder at the thought. Lady Caldwell had seemed sad, and Harriet couldn’t help but wonder why. Viscount Garland’s concern had been touching and made Harriet admire him all the more.
Yet he clearly hadn’t remembered her. She’d considered mentioning her name again, but the moment had been so awkward that she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Was she so unmemorable and uninteresting? The thought was discouraging.
“Martin is acquainted with him,” Frances continued, bringing her thoughts back to the conversation, “and Father approved him coming.” Frances’ brown eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’m not sure if this will work, but I’m determined to try.”
Harriet smiled. “The house party seems the perfect place for it.” Her friend’s enthusiasm made Harriet wish for a moment that she was the one who was moving forward. How silly to long for a future that was out of reach. He might have caught her notice, but she certainly hadn’t caught his.