“Why did you need me in the village?” she asked once they were on the walk.
“I had hoped to find gifts for my nieces.”
Yes, of course. His world revolved around his nieces. “I have some very good ideas based upon conversations today. However, I’m not certain everything can be found in Willanton.”
“What is not here can be ordered.” He held out his arm. “Where to, Miss Claywell?”
Chapter Nineteen
WhilePreston’sideamaynot have been brilliant, it was still very good and had struck him while he wandered through Ambrose Hall, hating the silence.
Miss Claywell was in the village with his nieces, as were the shops where he might purchase gifts, so after he’d allowed what he believed was sufficient time for his nieces to be measured and whatever else females did at a dressmaker, he’d gone to retrieve them.
What he hadn’t expected was to walk in and find Miss Claywell draped in the loveliest of green wool, a color Charlotte had created. A perfect match to her eyes. However, when Delia had asked his opinion, he couldn’t voice the words. In fact, he bit back his observations of her beauty because others were present.
Then, when he said that he was in need of her, his mind went to what he truly wanted, though thankfully none of the females knew his thoughts, or he would have been further embarrassed.
His nieces were present, and he should not have been thinking about what he’d like to do with Miss Claywell.
However, setting that aside, she was now with him and if he were lucky, they’d not be returning to Ambrose Hall for some time.
Preston offered his arm, and thankfully she took it. Touch was important, even if layers of material separated skin, and the two set off toward the sundries store. However, after passing the hatmaker, Miss Claywell paused before an empty shop.
“What was here before?” she asked while trying to peer in the windows.
“It was a lending library when I was younger. It closed after I join the cavalry and before Matilda learned to read.”
Miss Claywell chuckled. “Does she know this?”
Preston groaned. “No. I haven’t had the heart to tell her.”
“Perhaps it may be one again someday.”
“That would make my niece quite happy, I can assure you.”
“I might even be the one to own it,” she mused quietly.
Preston leaned in. “What did you say?”
“That perhaps I should open a lending library.”
“But you are the niece of a viscount. You are not a widow or a spinster. What of London?” Even though she said that she’d tired of the Season, Preston also believed that she’d change her mind and wish to return come spring.
“I don’t believe I will ever attend a Season again and will be quite happy for it.” She turned and they continued their walk.
“If you open a lending library, I’ll lose my governess,” he said when he really worried that she’d leave his household.
“I promise not to leave unless you’ve found a replacement,” she chuckled. “Besides I won’t have funds to open a lending library for a year and a half, which gives you ample time to advertise for the position.”
She was making light of the conversation, but deep down, Preston panicked.
“I could live above the establishment as Monique lives above her dress shop. It would be quite nice to enjoy such independence.”
He didn’t want her to be independent. Preston wanted her to need him.
They paused outside of the sundries store. “I believe this might be the only place you will find presents for the girls, or at least put in an order.
He held the door for her. “After you, Miss Claywell.”
