“Didn’t you understand my signal?” he asked.
“I thought I did, but you weren’t there, so…”
“You didn’t wait very long.”
“Really, Ned. What did you expect? I’ve no experience with subterfuge.”
“You seemed to fare all right the night you came to Fleet Street.”
Sophie flushed. “That was different.”
“Fair enough.” He extended a hand to her. “Come. I want to talk with you awhile.”
She hesitated before sliding her hand into his. His fingers closed around hers, warm and strong. “Where? Outside? I’m not dressed for it.”
“No. Inside. Or, more precisely, in the library. I’ve been investigating and I’ve discovered that it’s usually empty at this time of day.”
Sophie allowed him to lead her across the entry hall and down the corridor to the set of dark, wood-paneled doors that led to the Appersett House library.
The cavernous room, two floors high, was filled to bursting with leather-bound books from generations past. It smelled of beeswax and lemon polish, a fragrance that always reminded Sophie of the long winter days she’d spent as a girl, nestled in one of the oxblood leather chairs by the fire, reading.
“Someone once told me that a well-used private library was the sign of a truly successful gentleman.” Ned shut the doors behind him. “A man in possession of one must not only have the ability to read, but the funds to purchase a surfeit of books, and the leisure time to enjoy them.”
“I’d never thought of it that way before.”
“You wouldn’t. You’ve always had access to this, haven’t you?”
“My whole life.”
He looked around. “Have you read all of these books?”
She laughed. “Hardly. I can’t even claim to have read half of them. They’re mostly treatises on agriculture and natural philosophy.”
“Not topics very much to your liking, then.”
“Not entirely, no. Though I’ve recently purchased a new book which might qualify as both.” She moved to the high wooden shelves on the opposite wall and extracted a volume bound in green cloth. “It’s rather controversial,” she said as she extended it to him.
Ned took it, his eyes sweeping over the gilt lettering on the spine. “Charles Darwin?”
“Papa doesn’t know I purchased it. He wouldn’t approve.”
“I’m not sure I approve.” Ned flipped through the pages.
She moved to take it back from him. “Are you the sort of gentleman who’d restrict a lady’s reading?”
He held it out of her reach. “Don’t be hasty. That isn’t what I meant. I simply don’t know if I agree with the man’s theories.”
“And why not? You of all people should see the wisdom in his hypothesis. He believes that living creatures adapt and change in unique and interesting ways. That this very adaptation is what ensures their survival.”
“He also believes that human beings derived from monkeys. Or, possibly, worms.”
She gave him a look of mild reproof. “You’ve been reading Punch.”
“I’ve seen the caricatures. They’re not very flattering to Darwin’s theories.”
“Punch isn’t flattering to anyone. I wouldn’t put much stock in their opinions. Mr. Darwin’s theories on natural selection have been endorsed by countless men of science. And they seem perfectly reasonable to me. What I can understand of them.”
He returned her book. His blue eyes grew serious. “Is that really what you think I’ve done? Adapted and changed to ensure my survival like some plant or animal on an island somewhere?”
“Not exactly. Plants and animals have little in the way of free will. But the idea is the same, isn’t it? Adaptation and survival? Only for human beings there’s an element of choice involved.”
“I’ve never considered it.”
“I have. Indeed, it seems a particularly important point in our modern world. Every day there’s a new idea, a new invention. We can no longer be content to stay in the same place, doing the same things as generations before us. We must alter our behavior. We must adapt ourselves to the times or risk being left behind.”
Ned looked at her for a long moment. And then, very slowly, an expression of understanding came over his face. But not just understanding, she realized. There was something else there as well. A brief glimmer of compassion. Of tenderness. “You’re seeking to rationalize your father’s obsession with modernization.”