Free The Gentleman's Quest by Deborah Simmons Page A

always a scholar, had simply retreated further into his pages.
    “What of your parents?” Kit asked. “Are they collectors?”
    “They, too, are dead,” Miss Ingram said briskly. Putting down her fork, she set aside her plate.
    “I’m sorry,” Kit said. “Have you been long without them?”
    “Long enough,” she said. “Now, before we head to Cheswick tomorrow, let’s go over a few things.”
    The sudden change of subject took Kit by surprise. Had the conversation become too personal, or was Miss Ingram loath to reveal anything of herself?
    “As you probably know, libraries are often arranged according to the owner’s specifications,” she said, and from her tone, Kit realized that the earlier intimacy would not return.
    “A collector may group his prizes together by subject, date of publication, date of acquisition, or any other method that strikes his fancy or the fancy of whoever handles the purchase and cataloging of the books,” she said.
    “Well, that’s helpful,” Kit noted drily.
    Miss Ingram’s mouth quirked at that, and Kit realized just how rarely she smiled. Here in the glow of the firelight, even that gentle curve of her lips was delightful and alluring—and all too fleeting. What had made her so serious, and how could he coax more smiles from her when their situation was not exactly humorous?
    “One famous collector housed his volumes in presses decorated with Roman personages, so there would be no way of knowing where to find something without looking through his ‘emperor system’,” she said. “And Samuel Pepys shelved according to size.”
    Her descriptions only confirmed Kit’s opinion that their search was futile. But he knew that she would not be satisfied until she realized the truth: that they weren’t going to find a copy of the Mallory. If he didn’t know how dangerous the book was, he might even wish for her to obtain it, if only as reward for her dogged persistence.
    “So how do you expect to find anything, let alone a volume that’s been missing for a century?” he asked.
    “I’ll see when we get there.”
    Kit did not bother to ask how they were going to gain access to the Earl of Cheswick’s library. Perhaps tomorrow, Miss Ingram would see for herself that her quest was impossible. And then…like the gentleman that he was, Kit would have to deliver her safely into the hands of her uncle. Unharmed. And untouched.
    Kit might rue his earlier claim, but it was not something he could deny. Although honor was not much discussed in the Marchant home, his father had madehis expectations clear, and his children did their utmost to live up to them. It had not required much effort on Kit’s part. He had never been tempted by the dissipations that once had threatened Barto’s future, and his most difficult challenge had been holding the Mar-chants together after the death of their parent.
    But now, alone in a shadowed bedroom with a woman like no other, Kit began to sweat. Somehow, he didn’t believe that this was the sort of test his father could ever have imagined.
     
    Bringing Bay to a halt at the edge of the hill, Kit looked down at the house that lay nestled below. The afternoon sun lent a golden glow to the front of the neat stone structure and glittered off three stories of windows. Cheswick wasn’t one of the grandest homes in the land, but it was grand enough to make Kit think twice about breaking into it.
    “Well, here we are,” he said, turning to his companion. “What do you suggest we do?”
    Kit had expected that Miss Ingram might veer from her course when confronted with the sight of the ancestral home of the Earls of Cheswick. But she evinced no doubt or confusion, simply eyeing the estate with her usual calm deliberation.
    Then, glancing around her, she frowned. “First, we need to find a place where I can change.”
    Kit swallowed a grunt of surprise. He could understand her wish to get out of boy’s clothing, but how? He only hoped that she