Whispers in the Reading Room by Shelley Gray Page A

his feet but didn’t move a single inch. “You were right about one thing. Coming here was a mistake,” he snapped as he looked around her small receiving room with disdain. “Though now that I am here, I see it. You are obviously extremely far from being a suitable bride.”
    Had Mr. Marks’ warning been correct then? Jason had wanted her because he needed money? It made no sense since everyone knew his family was wealthy.
    But if he had, indeed, only proposed because he’d assumed her dowry could ease his financial straits, how very disappointed he must be.
    Almost as disappointed as herself.
    Grabbing the top hat he’d thrown carelessly on the coffee table when he’d first sat down, he said, “I will leave you with one bit of advice. Sebastian Marks is not who you think he is. He is as far from the cream of Chicago society as one of the actors in Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West show. He is from the depths of the poorest class. Keeping his company should be avoided by ladies at all costs.”
    She knew he was wrong. He had to be. She recognized the fine cut of his suits and the expensive fabrics he wore. “I am sure you are mistaken.”
    “I am not. You may never imagine that I know more about anything than you, but I can promise you, in this instance, you are sadly out of your depth. Don’t let your pride get in the way of common sense.”
    “Is he dangerous?”
    “Of course he is,” he bit out. “Most men in Chicago know who he is and fear him.”
    “I don’t know—”
    “Furthermore, most women who have the misfortune to know who he is make sure to never even meet his gaze.”
    “But—”
    “Besides,” he added darkly, “he eyes you in a peculiar way. I saw it in the lobby of the hotel. I saw it when he was staring at you from across the room.”
    “He is concerned for my welfare.”
    “No, he wants you in his life.”
    A chill inched up her spine. “We are merely friends.” Actually, they weren’t even that, no matter what she said. She didn’t have friends. The invitations received to parties and balls had no doubt been sent in deference to her father’s position and then out of pity for a widow and her daughter.
    But she did know one or two afternoon’s conversations did not a friendship make.
    “He is not looking for a friend, Lydia. At least, not the type of friend you are thinking of. And let me tell you this. If you aren’t careful, you are going to discover things about Marks that will mark you as well.”
    She imagined he used the word mark on purpose. As a play on words. It would have been mildly amusing if his words weren’t so foreboding.
    Though his warnings were scaring her, she wasn’t about to give Jason the satisfaction of seeing her afraid of him again. “You are being rather dramatic, Jason.”
    “It would only be seen as dramatic by the naïve.” He walked toward the door. “I promise you this, Lydia. If you don’t break all ties with Marks, something is going to happen. And it won’t be pleasant or easily removed. Actually, you might never recover from it.”
    Before she could ask him to explain himself, he set the hat on his head, strode to the door, and exited.
    Closing the door behind him, Lydia looked around the quiet, dim foyer.
    The artwork that used to decorate the walls was gone.
    The servants who used to keep floors swept and the furniture glistening were gone.
    She truly was alone. Responsible to secure her mother’s future yet not knowing if she would ever marry. In the dark about what was and was not true about her new friend.
    Soon, they were going to have to sell the chandelier in the dining room. After that? Her mother would be forced to give up even more of her jewelry. And how much longer could they afford even this townhouse?
    Perhaps she would be forced to investigate other avenues for employment, not that she had any idea what she could do. Be a governess perhaps?
    At the moment, all she had to trust were her treasured books and the