The Season (Season Series #1)

Chapter 17.1: Library Secrets

"How did you...?" I started, once again at a loss for words. Andrew smiled that lopsided smile of his.

"Honestly, Libby, I grew up in this palace - I know my way around the service corridors. You weren't in your suite, so I guessed you'd be here," he said, glancing down at the envelope in his hand.

"You came looking for me?" I blurted out before I could think up something more intelligent to say.

"James had been going on and on about inviting Ella out for a walk, so I figured I'd seize my opportunity to figure out why you've been avoiding me," Andrew said, crossing the room to collect the book of legends and turn it over to look at the cover, "Why are you putting this away? Surely you're not so fast a reader that you've already finished it,"

"She's sending me home," I blurted out again. Andrew's smile died.

"Why?" he asked, still holding the book.

"Because James is about to tell her that you and I are...friends," I said, my words tumbling out in a rush, "It's why he didn't want me to chaperone them on the walk with Emily and Rosanna. Ella's already figured out that I've been lying about seeing the seamstress for fittings, so-"

"James isn't telling her," Andrew said, cutting me off.

"How can you know that?" I asked. Andrew tucked the envelope he'd been holding into his jacket pocket, looking down at the book in his other hand.

"Because I told him not to," he said, lifting his green eyes to meet mine. I said nothing as a tentative twinge of relief blossomed in my chest.

"It was apparent after I'd seen you last night that James hadn't been honest with me," Andrew said, "He'd told me that you hadn't wanted the ticket, so when I came upon you at the theatre I may have said some dreadfully unkind things to him after the intermission,"

"Then how can you be sure he's keeping his word and not telling Ella?" I asked.

"James may be many things, but he is still my best friend. He was attempting to act in my best interests, but our views on what those are aren't exactly aligned," Andrew said, "I left no uncertainty where the matter of informing your cousin was concerned,"

"Thank you," I said, clasping my hands together when I realized I'd been about to touch his arm in gratitude.

"Don't thank me just yet," he said, "Because I still have to ask you why you were throwing yourself at William Weatherington last night,"

"I wasn't throwing myself at Weatherington," I protested, moving to turn away to hide the heat rising into my cheeks. That Andrew had noticed my utter failure of an attempt with William was downright mortifying.

"I'll admit your simpering needs some work," Andrew said, catching my arm as a grin tugged at the corners of his lips, "But you're not answering my question,"

I couldn't think about anything except his hand on my arm, the heat rising in my cheeks in earnest this time. I wasn't able to string together a coherent thought, let alone a lie for why I'd done what I did the night before, so I settled for blurting out the truth.

"My parents have ordered me to find a husband before the end of the Season," I said, my eyes turning towards Andrew's of their own accord. His thumb ran a circle on my arm before he let it go, my skin tingling even once his hand was gone.

"And of all people you set your sights on William," Andrew said.

"I didn't set my sights set on anyone," I huffed, "My mother sent me a list and his name was on it. Or at least it used to be,"