In the back of her mind, she fleetingly realized she didn’t hear the sound of someone walking around.
“Addie,” Lottie whispered.
“Yes?” She started on the second stack of books. She really should sort them better when they arrived, put categories together. But like everything else in her life, things just seemed to get jumbled up.
Lottie cleared her throat. “Addie, I think you should stop that for now.”
“No. I know it’s here. I remember seeing it when I unpacked the cartons yesterday.” She moved to the third stack. “Just give me a minute.”
“Excuse me, miss.” A very deep, very male, voice rumbled through the room.
Addie bolted upright, smoothing back the hair that had fallen from her topknot. “Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t see you enter.”
The man frowned. “Lord.”
Addie stared for a minute. “What?”
“Lord. I am Lord Berkshire.”
Oh, good grief. Another aristocrat looking down his nose at her, most likely disapproving. She cleared her throat and assumed a more professional demeanor. “As in the Earl of?”
He nodded. Apparently speaking more than a few words at a time was too much effort for his lordship. Now that she’d gotten a good look at him, she remembered him from numerous social events years ago where he looked right through her. Berkshire represented every man she’d ever met in London.
This man, as she recalled, was a widower and some sort of scandal had surrounded his wife’s death. Since Addie was not friends with the gossipers and those ‘in the know’ she had nothing more than that scant bit of information. She’d always thought, however, that despite his mien of arrogance and privilege, he had sad eyes. Like an abandoned puppy.
His dark blond hair was cut in the first state of fashion. Despite the current trend for mutton chops and mustaches, Berkshire was clean-shaven, leaving his aristocratic features and the sharp lines of his jaw quite visible. His deep brown eyes regarded her with a mix of annoyance and impatience.
He was also dressed quite fashionably in a dark gray superfine wool suit, lavender and black waistcoat, and black ascot.
“Miss?” There was that slight rumble again of his voice. Deep, raspy, and . . . impatient.
She was appalled to realize she’d been staring at the man. Flustered, she said, “My apology, my lord. How may I help you?” Although she had recognized him, he apparently did not remember her at all. Which was no surprise. It was rather difficult to recall someone you’d never really looked at. But then again, one did not expect to see a lady one had met at a ton event working in a bookstore.
“I am in need of a book. I had hoped if you did not have what I require, you can perhaps order it for me.” Goodness, the man’s nose was so far up in the air, he would most likely drown in a rainstorm.
“That I can do,” she said, “what book are you looking for?”
Just then Lottie tapped Addie on the shoulder. “Excuse me. I will come back for my books later. I have two students arriving shortly.”
“All right. I will have them for you when you come by for tea.” She smiled and waved at her friend, then turned her attention back to Lord Berkshire, who was frowning at her.
She sighed inwardly. Patience was obviously not a strong point with his lordship. “I apologize once again, my lord, what book did you say you were interested in?”
“I am hoping to find a book that teaches sign language.” His words were clipped, almost as if he disliked saying them.
Addie tilted her head and tapped her lips with her fingertip. “Sign language? I am afraid I am not familiar with that term. What is it?”
A slight slumping of his lordship’s shoulders was the only indication of his distress at her words. “It is a practice over a hundred years old, but not well-known, I’m afraid. It is a way for people who are deaf to communicate with others. They use their fingers and hands to form letters and words.”
“Oh, how very interesting.”
He nodded, his demeanor undergoing a considerable change as he spoke. “There are even schools that teach it to children who are afflicted with deafness. It’s a growing movement.” His eyes were bright, and his initial stiffness gone.
She became enthralled as he continued to acquaint her with the beginning of sign language and how it had progressed over the years. His handsome face grew even more so as he smiled—he had a dimple—waved his hands about—large, strong hands—and his body relaxed—truly a fine, admirable form.
Addie was fascinated as she watched and listened to the man. This subject was a passion for him, leaving her curious. When he stopped speaking, looking a bit uncomfortable at showing such enthusiasm, she said, “My goodness. You certainly know a lot about the subject. Is there a particular reason you find this subject so fascinating?”
He nodded, his earlier stiffness returning. “Yes. My son is deaf.” He glared at her. “There is nothing wrong with his brain. He simply cannot hear, so therefore, he cannot speak. He merely grunts.”
She reared back at the fire in his words. This was obviously a very sensitive matter for him.
“I agree, my lord. While I cannot say I have spent time with those who are deaf, I have no reason to believe that not being able to hear results in a loss of intelligence. I am certain your boy is very bright.”
His smile returned, and in truth he looked as though he wanted to kiss her. Almost as if he read her thoughts, the very proper, high-brow earl said, “If it was not totally improper, I would kiss you for saying that, Miss…”
“Mallory. Miss Addie Mallory.”
Lord Grayson Berkshire was still focused on his reaction when he first entered the bookstore to find this young lady with her nicely shaped derriere in the air as she bent over a pile of books. Since Margaret’s death two years before, he had not availed himself of female company, and based on his reaction to this mere store clerk, it was time he sought some.
She was pleasingly plump, the sort of woman that always appealed to him. Her curves were just enough to make a man comfortable embracing her. No sharp elbows poking him in the stomach or bony knees causing damage to his nether parts. This woman was all feminine cushiony softness.
Whatever sort of hairdo she had begun her day with, wisps of brown curls were already falling onto her forehead and alongside her cheeks. Her very creamy cheeks that right now were a bright red from his comment about kissing her. He had no idea where that statement had come from.
“I apologize, miss. That was not an appropriate thing to say.”
She waved him off, but the glimmer in her deep blue eyes held a touch of laughter, despite her blush. A woman with a sense of humor.
“You are forgiven. However, since I am unfamiliar with sign language, you must realize I have no books on the subject. But I do receive a bulletin each month with new books that have been released. I can go through all the ones I’ve received since I’ve owned the store to see if anything presents itself.”
His brows rose. “You are the owner?”
She drew herself up, but still the top of her head only reached his jaw. “I am, indeed, my lord. I own the store.” She grinned, which had him grinning back like they shared a secret of which he was unaware.
“I meant no insult, Miss Mallory, but it is quite unusual for a woman, especially at your age, to own a bookstore.” He hoped he hadn’t offended her because he was beginning to enjoy the young lady’s company. Aside from his initial attraction to her, he found her easy to talk to and was rather enjoying their banter.
“I know what you say is true, but I have wonderful parents who allowed me to choose my own path.” The smile she offered told him she did not feel wounded by his words.
“And your path is to own a bookstore?”
“Yes. I love books.” Her lovely face glowed with pleasure. She was truly a happy person, someone with whom he would enjoy spending time. Considering what he was dealing with, he could use some cheering up.
“You must be a voracious reader.”
Her smile faltered. “Um, not exactly.” She looked sad, making him want to take her into his arms and comfort her. He gave himself a mental shake. From where were all these random thoughts coming?
Leaving him with those questionable words, she continued, now all business. “I will be happy to check my stack of bulletins. Plus, Mr. Evans, the man who sold the store to me, left a huge pile of the ones he had received over the years. I will be happy to go through them for you, as well.”
Not sure why her manner changed so abruptly at his question, he was not yet prepared to finish the conversation, but it was obvious from her movements that she was ready to have him leave.
“Thank you very much. I appreciate it.” He turned toward the door and once his hand was on the doorknob, he turned back. “I would be happy to help you sort through the bulletins. I imagine you have quite a bit of work to do with running the bookstore.”
Hopefully, she didn’t see the desperation in him. He wanted more than anything to help Michael, especially with the threat hanging over their heads, but he would also like to spend time with this intriguing young lady who owned a bookstore.
But was not an avid reader.
She studied him for a minute, then said, “Yes, I could use the help, but I don’t wish to impose upon your time.”
He brightened, feeling quite silly at how happy it made him to be invited back. “I can certainly find time, and you are the one doing me the favor.”
“Very well. If you wish to return when the shop closes at six this evening, we can go over the bulletins then.” Her blush told him she was most likely not used to the attention of men, which he found quite peculiar given her lovely visage and charming personality. There were many things about Miss Mallory that intrigued him, and so many questions he’d like to ask her.
“I look forward to it.” He opened the door and took one step back and then looked over at her. “I won’t be keeping you from some prior engagement, will I?” That was a very sneaky and subtle way to find out if Miss Mallory had a young man who would be disappointed if she were forced to work in the evening.
She gave him a slight curtsy. “Not at all, my lord. My evenings are generally free.”
Generally free. He smiled and continued on his way.
Chapter Two
The next afternoon Addie stood back and eyed the small table she’d just set with tea things. Her very favorite pink and white china teapot, along with a sugar bowl and small pitcher of milk. Three matching cups and saucers sat alongside a plate of tiny sandwiches of watercress and butter, thinly sliced cucumbers with cream cheese, and lemon tarts.
The front door of the bookstore opened, and she greeted her two friends as they entered. Every day at precisely three o’clock they gathered in Once Upon a Book for tea. It had been their practice since Addie had been in Bath.
Lottie had arrived at the bookstore the very day it opened to introduce herself and let Addie know that as an avid reader she would be a steady customer. She, in turn, had introduced her to Lady Pamela Manning, the third woman in their group. Another escapee from the London Season, Pamela was the oldest of the group at twenty-seven. Like Addie, she had been a veritable failure at the marriage mart and had fled to Bath right after her fifth Season, three years before.
A pretty woman, although painfully shy, Pamela also had a pronounced stutter that made itself worse when she was nervous. And she was always nervous at social events.
Unfortunately, Pamela’s family did not approve of her move from London, so she made a comfortable life for herself in a lovely flat near the center of Bath, by teaching piano and voice to young ladies in order to support herself. Just as Addie was drawn to books even though reading was difficult for her, Pamela loved singing, despite her difficulty with speech. She never stuttered when she sang, and she had the voice of an angel.
The three women had cheerfully labeled themselves The Merry Misfits of Bath. They loved their lives, enjoyed each other’s company, and had no need for men.
Or so they stated.
Emphatically.
Every time they gathered together.
“I have b-b-een asked to s-s-ing at a wedding!” Pamela glowed with happiness as she took her seat at the table and shook out the snowy white napkin to place on her lap. Her stutter almost never troubled her when she was with her friends. It was a sign of her excitement and probably nervousness, too, that brought the affliction back.
“Oh, how very exciting.” Lottie clapped her hands. “Whose wedding?”
“Mr. Calvert and Miss S-s-shepherd from our church are getting married n-n-next Saturday. They had planned on her cousin s-s-singing, but she fell ill, and they are c-c-concerned she won’t be recovered in t-t-time. So they asked me to s-s-step in.”
“That’s wonderful. What a great opportunity for you to show off your talent.” Addie reached across the small tea table and hugged her friend.
They chatted as Addie poured tea for the ladies and passed around the plate of small sandwiches and tarts that she picked up each day from the local bakery. This was such a pleasant time for them: when Addie locked the front door and put out the ‘closed for lunch’ sign, while they enjoyed the food and each other’s company.
“I have a f-favor to ask y-you b-both.”
Lottie placed her fingers on Pamela’s hand resting on the table. “Be at ease, darling. We’re your friends.”
“I k-know.” Pamela took a deep breath. “I would l-like you both to come to the w-wedding.” She looked hopefully at her friends.
Addie offered her a bright smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Me, either,” Lottie said.
“Thank you so much.” Pamela let out a huge breath and took a sip of her tea. “I am very n-n-nervous about singing in p-p-public. My mother forced me to perform so many times for her friends that I swore once I moved I would never again do this. But I couldn’t turn down the v-v-vicar when he asked me to fill in for the bride’s c-c-cousin.
Also, there will be a wedding breakfast for the b-b-bride and groom at the church hall, where we will all be w-w-welcomed. I m-m-met with Mr. Calvert to discuss t-t-the music and asked if I c-c-could bring two friends and he s-s-aid yes.”
“Wonderful.” Addie wiped her mouth. “I guess I will have to look through my wardrobe to find a dress appropriate for a wedding.”
“Yes. Me, too,” Lottie said. She swallowed the last of her sandwich and looked over at Addie. “I rode by the store last night and you were locking up.” She glanced at Pamela and smirked. “With a man.”
Addie shrugged, hoping the blush she felt in her middle didn’t rise all the way to her face. “A customer.” She fiddled with her napkin, not meeting her friend’s eyes.
Lottie looked at Pamela again who was staring at Addie wide-eyed. “Really? It seemed the two of you were chatting away quite comfortably.”
“Well, of course.” Addie raised her chin, aware that her face was most likely red as a beet. “I talk to all my customers. It’s good business.”
Lottie smiled and leaned back in her chair. “True. But . . . this was about a half-hour after you normally lock up.”
Addie sighed. “All right. What is it you’re asking me?”
Lottie leaned forward as did Pamela. “Who was the man?”
“In fact, you know him, Lottie. Well, you met him. Or rather, you saw him.” When Lottie tilted her head and frowned, Addie added, “Yesterday you were here about your two romance novels when Lord Berkshire came in.”
“Oh. Yes. Now I remember.” Lottie crinkled her nose. “He seemed rather rude, to me.”
“Not really rude. More abrupt. Or impatient, actually.” She thought back to how comfortable he’d become when he began to speak about his son and his hopes to help the lad learn to communicate.
Pamela took her last sip of tea. “Since you know his name and he was here last night—past closing time—tell us more about him.” She grinned. �
��And you.”
“There is no me and him. Or him and me, rather. Or maybe it’s him and I? I always get that mixed up. Anyway, he is looking for a book on sign language and I told him I would search through all the bulletins I have from publishers on new books to see if I can find one.” She looked back and forth between the two. “That’s all. No mystery. Nothing like you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what we’re thinking?” Lottie smirked and Pam nodded.
“Because you are my best friends and I know that look. And since there is nothing for me to tell you about his lordship, except that I am helping him find a book, why don’t we change the conversation to Pamela’s wedding?” She looked over at Pam. “What are you singing? Do you get to choose any of your own pieces, or are they all ones chosen by them?”
Thankfully, the ladies were willing to move onto the wedding and what the three of them would wear. By the time they all decided on their wardrobe, it was time for Addie to re-open the store. They all hugged each other farewell. Lottie was off to the Foundling home where she volunteered her time one day a week and Pamela was returning home to meet her next reluctant pupil.
Addie checked herself in the mirror one more time and then satisfied that she looked presentable enough for a wedding, drew on her gloves and picked up her reticule. In light of the event she was to attend, she left her bicycle and had her carriage brought around. She would pick up Lottie and Pamela and they would all head to the church.
Addie had been present at a number of weddings of friends, distant cousins, and even the Mallory family cook, who then presented them with her resignation the next day. The newly married woman was packed and off with her new Scottish husband to the County of Dumfries that very evening. Meals were quite dismal until Mother hired another cook.
Of course, when she was younger, Addie would sit in the church and imagine herself as the bride, and a handsome, kind, considerate-of-her-disability gentleman stood alongside her. That never happened, and somewhere over the years she’d begun to view weddings as a reminder that it would never happen for her. But she could still be happy for the joyful couple.
The Bookseller and the Earl Page 2
