“Yet, you wish to keep your purchase a secret.”
A gentleman should never question what a lady purchased from a chemist or apothecary. It could be of a highly personal nature, though hers was not.
“I am a private person, Lord Bolton.”
He studied her then offered a slight nod. “I hope all is well with you.”
“It is.” She pushed past him just as her sisters turned from the work trunk maker, having not made a purchase.
They each nodded to Bolton and continued on to the lace vendor.
“I apologize if I intruded. I was simply concerned.”
What did one say to such a comment? Instead, Octavia simply nodded in acknowledgement.
“After the lace, we must visit the vendor with the painted fans,” Sabina announced.
Octavia chuckled. Of her three sisters, Sabina did enjoy shopping the most, but always purchased the least. She enjoyed looking and dreaming but held on to every shilling of her pin money unless it was something that she desperately needed. Her fear was that one day she would find something that she must absolutely have but would not have the means to make such a purchase because she had spent foolishly.
“This is the first time my youngest sister has visited The Bazaar,” she explained to Lord Bolton, who remained by her side. They had a brief conversation, which should have been enough since she assured him of her health. Anyone else would have moved on, but he walked with her. As the place was crowded with shoppers, this encounter was likely also to appear in tomorrow’s newssheet, which aggravated her to no end as she would like to have been inconspicuous to the ton.
He chuckled. “I can understand the appeal, especially when the day is rainy, such as this one.”
It had been raining since she woke, which made it impossible to enjoy any outdoor activity and none of them had wished to remain in the house. It had been Lavinia who suggested The Bazaar in Soho.
“We prefer to shop here than anywhere else,” Octavia said. “While not a widow by war, my sister would have been just as destitute as the women running these stalls if not for my brother.” She glanced around, noting that many of the vendors were tired. It was likely because when not here, they were at home creating more items to sell. Each of them, wives or daughters of soldiers who had lost their lives during the war with Napoleon.
“My dowry was returned to me and is mine,” she continued, not certain why she was offering him any explanation. “My sister’s husband, however, spent every shilling within the first two years of their marriage to repair his crumbling estate. She was returned home after his death with less than she took into the marriage, including clothing and jewelry.”
“My family has not suffered the same type of loss and we have been blessed.” Bolton glanced about the bazaar. “However, the reason it was established is why my mother will shop for what she needs here, first, before visiting any other shop such as those on Bond Street.”
Her sisters continued on to the next vendor, discussing the various items available while Octavia strolled behind, not interested in purchasing anything. Lord Bolton remained by her side. It was oddly comforting, yet she knew the two of them together would invite speculation.
Angelo couldn’t help but wonder what might be printed in the newssheets tomorrow.
Today it had been Lord B rejected again by Widow K. No conversation was overheard, but one must wonder what was said after Lord B approached the widow and she in turn walked away from him after a brief conversation. From a distance, Lord B was attempting to charm, but Lady K was not beguiled.
It really was becoming quite a nuisance reading his name beside hers when nothing had ever occurred other than a few conversations. So long as her name appeared next to his, she’d not take him to be her lover as rule number two had been violated each time their initials appeared in a newssheet.
Ah yes, the rules. He’d still not learned them all.
“May I ask what your third rule is?”
“It does not pertain to you and one you cannot yet break.”
This information had him rather intrigued. “Tell me anyway so that I might not unintentionally violate it.”
She smirked. “Never pursue a married gentleman and discourage any who may pursue me.”
He suspected that rule was because her husband kept mistresses. Still, he asked, “Is there a particular reason or do you simply consider it bad form?”
“No woman wants to know that her husband has been warming the bed of another, even if she is glad that he is there instead of in hers.”
Angelo couldn’t help but snort. He was certain there were many women within Society who would prefer that their husbands take their attentions elsewhere.
“In turn, the wife would have no choice but to cast the other woman as the villain of temptation. A wronged wife will not hesitate to toss the mistress’s name in the mud then drive over it with a carriage.” She glanced at him. “It is also bad form. No woman should do what they would not want done to them.”
“The very reason why I will remain true to my wife, once I wed,” he promised. “Though, I am not wed yet, but a bachelor with no ties.”
