Free The Queen's Librarian by Carole Cummings

a pout and adjusted his eyebrows to crook ever so slightly into an angle of appeal and then did that thing with the lip that always got Miss Emma to sneak him an extra dollop of gravy on his potatoes so he could have something in which to dip his parsnips so he could choke them down more eas—
    “Oh, all right ,” said Nan with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. “It isn’t as though it merits such drama, and they really should have told you by now.” She cut a quick glance at Alex with a lift of her eyebrow, but Alex merely jutted his chin like he was making room for the hangman’s noose and looked straight ahead. “Mister Anson Booker gave Tress a small string of pearls. Some cynical soul”—again, she shot a look at Alex—“might describe such a thing as a bribe, but Mister Anson Booker was quite careful to describe it as a hopeful gift.” She paused. “Being Tress’s guardian and brother, I imagine you, Lucas, would likely describe it as a courting gift.”
    A… courting gift. Lucas frowned then tilted his head. A courting gift?
    He looked at Alex. “Your brother wants to court my little sister?”
    It was… was it a relief? Lucas couldn’t tell. On the one hand, Tress wasn’t trying to steal—and apparently succeeding in stealing—Alex away from Lucas, but on the other hand….
    Anson Booker. Anson Booker.
    “Well,” said Alex and cleared his throat, “she’s not your little sister. I mean, she’s three years older than you, and it’s not as though… right. Shutting up now.”
    Lucas’s eyes were narrow little slits. “And you didn’t tell me?”
    “Lucas,” said Alex, taking a half step back before Bramble got in his way and almost knocked him off his feet. “Lucas, I swear, I gave them ’til the end of the week, and I said if they hadn’t told you by then, I was going to, but Anson said it was his place to ask, and Da said so too, and truly, what could I do, and Tress said she’d die if the whole thing wasn’t done properly and you ended up refusing, but really, I said, Lucas loves you and he’s such a lovely man and kind, and he wouldn’t ref—”
    “Yesterday was the end of the week, Alex,” Lucas said calmly.
    “—use because he’s just generous that way, you, I mean, you’re generous that way, and I didn’t….” Alex trailed off. “Ah,” he said. “Yes. So it was.” And then he didn’t say any more. He looked a little sick. Lucas didn’t know whether to feel sorry for him or deck him.
    Laurie snorted, which rather settled the quandary. Alex might be in for it later, but Lucas wasn’t about to give Laurie the satisfaction of a show.
    Lucas kept his tone even. “Well, then. I see. I imagine you can tell me all about it later, when—”
    “Lucas!” Footsteps pounded on the stairs as Clara’s voice rang through the entirety of the house. “ Lucas Tripp !” She threw herself into the room, tear-streaked, hair half-curled and dressing gown thrown over nothing but a corset and lacy blue bloomers. She shook a crumpled piece of paper clutched in her tight fist at Lucas. “What did you do to him?”
    Lucas had to blink to make sure his eyes weren’t popping right out of their sockets. “Clara!” he cried and almost took a step toward her to cover her up, but she growled at him, which made the yelp it surprised out of him sound more shrill and shriek-ish than it really was, so he stayed where he was. “You’re half-dressed!” he hissed, like the other men in the room might not have noticed, but Lucas made himself not look, because if Laurie and Alex were seeing his sister in very nearly the altogether, he really didn’t want to think about it. “What are you doing running about like… like that , and what the deuce are you shouting—?”
    Clara shook the paper at him again, tears flowing and face screwed up. “He’s gone!” she cried. “He’s left!”
    “ Who’s gone?” Lucas demanded.
    “Declan!” Clara wailed. “He’s left and he’s never,