Where was Upton? Was he with Isabella Langford? The thought flashed across Jane’s mind without her permission. Oh, what did she care? Hopefully, she’d find the book and be gone before the scoundrel made it back from whatever degenerate pursuit he was about.

The butler led her down a corridor and paused before great mahogany double doors. The dogs stopped and sat at attention. The servant grabbed the handles and pushed open the doors. The room beyond stole Jane’s breath.

She walked into the large space and spun in a wide circle. Library indeed. The room was perhaps the largest she’d ever seen in a town house aside from a grand ballroom. It was deliciously, perfectly, pleasantly, rightly lined with scores and scores and scores of books. Books! Books! Books!

Jane may have squealed. She only guessed as much because the dogs and the butler stared at her with heads cocked to the side. “Oh, I— My, I … didn’t know Mr. Upton had such a big…” She couldn’t stop staring at the rows of books.

The butler cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. What had she been saying? Oh, yes. Books! “I had no idea Mr. Upton had such a vast collection of books.”

“Reading is one of Mr. Upton’s favorite pastimes,” the butler added.

Jane nearly tripped over the thick carpet she’d been traversing in order to get a better look at the contents of the room. Reading was one of Upton’s favorite pastimes? Were they speaking of the same Mr. Upton? She hadn’t stumbled upon the home of one of Garrett’s cousins or … no, Garrett had no living male cousins. Not to mention the portrait on the far wall looked a great deal like Garrett. It must be his father. The man had passed away not very many years ago.

“Mr. Upton enjoys reading?” she asked, strictly for clarification’s sake. Perhaps he was just someone who hoarded books or had become obsessed with collecting things. For all she knew he had a collection of dolls or tin soldiers or something equally odd elsewhere in this town house.

“Yes, miss,” the butler replied. He shook himself as if he realized he’d already said too much about his master’s personal habits. “I’ll leave you to it. Mr. Upton says to inform you everything is alphabetized in the order of the author’s last name. Please ring if you’d like me to bring tea.”

Jane opened her mouth to say, “That won’t be necessary,” but she took another look at the huge collection and changed her mind. She could happily die here. She’d need sustenance. She thought her father had a large collection, but nothing in her house could compare to even one small part of the literary feast in front of her.