She had expected the study to be a small room, perhaps with a desk in it, but like everything else in this house, it surprised her. It was a big and graceful space lined almost entirely with bookshelves and stuffed with comfortable furniture, including a cozy Knole sofa. Its damask upholstery matched the curtains of the street-facing windows. A writing desk Cordelia recognized from the Institute anchored one corner of the room, and a beautiful table took pride of place in the center, its surface inlaid with a chessboard of polished ebony and mother-of-pearl. On it, a chess set had been arranged for a game, the pieces intricately carved of ivory, half of them stained black, the other rich red.

“You told me you love chess,” James said. “Remember? At the Townsends’ party?”

She did remember. It was one of the many events he’d squired her to, a forgettable ball during a damp October. She recalled chatting to him as they danced, but could not have imagined that he would have remembered what she said.

She found herself wandering the room in a sort of daze, reading the titles on the spines of books, picking up a brass mantel clock and setting it down. Over the hearth hung a gorgeously flowing painting of the Lady of Shalott, adrift in her boat, her long hair tumbling around her in a curtain of scarlet. On a wooden stand near the window was a massive leather-bound volume.

“This can’t really be the New English Dictionary?” she exclaimed.

“Only through the letter K, I’m afraid,” James said. “I ordered it as soon as they released the latest bit. We can only hope it isn’t another twenty years before they release the rest. For now let’s hope you don’t need to look up words starting with L or M.”

“It’s wonderful, James. Lucie will be desperately jealous.”

“Lucie can come over and consult it whenever she likes,” James said. “But don’t let her start bringing her books over here or she’ll fill up the shelves I’ve left for you.”

Cordelia hadn’t noticed the empty shelves below James’s enormous collection of books, many of which she had seen him carrying around at one time or another. There seemed to be no subject James wasn’t interested in, and she spied volumes on topics ranging from naturalism to seafaring to The Wonders of Britain and a handful of Baedekers.

But he had left space for her. And the things he had picked out—the dictionary, the miniatures, the chess set—were thoughtful, beautiful. No wonder she had hardly seen James for the past few months. It must have taken him an incredible amount of time to create such a lovely space. It was perfect, everything she would have dreamed of and chosen for herself.

Though there were still the parts of the house she had not seen. The most intimate part, in fact. The bedroom.