“I didn’t figure you to be such a prude,” she teased.
“And I didn’t figure you to be such a wanton!”
“If I weren’t so deep in my cups, I wouldn’t have dared ask,” she admitted.
“Precisely why you will not be imbibing in public anymore,” he said with a chuckle. “Curse it all, it’s already past midnight,” he exclaimed, after a close examination of his fob watch.
“Are you leaving so soon?”
He dropped a kiss on top of her head as he rose. “Unfortunately, I must go. I have an early meeting in the morning with my solicitor to go over some of my investments.”
“I think I may visit the bookstore in the morning, would you like to meet for lunch at Pascale’s?”
“I’d like that, let’s meet at noon.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Jillian perused the shelves of the small bookshop, pulling out volumes and pouring over the pages. This was her favorite establishment and one of the few places on Bond Street that she frequented. Radcliffe’s Gothic novels, as well as historical accounts, were some of her favorite finds, so she was delighted to come across a newly published account of the Colonial Uprising.
She collected the armload of books she had chosen and carried them to the front, where an elderly gentleman took them from her and totaled her purchases.
“Oh, Lady Penroth, before I forget. I set aside a book I received last week that I thought you might enjoy.” He pulled a heavy volume from the shelf behind the counter and set it down in front of her. It was ornately decorated with a jewel-encrusted crest that looked very much like a royal insignia of sorts. Her hands caressed the softness of the leather cover as she opened the book to the first page.
The Fall of the Roman Empire
“Oh it’s perfect!” she exclaimed. “Thank you for thinking of me. Where did you get it?”
“It is believed to be from a royal family’s personal library in Russia. I cannot verify this, but it is very old.”
“It certainly is lovely. All right, Mr. Littleton, how much will this beauty set me back?” she asked, smiling at him. She knew a bout of good-spirited bargaining was about to commence.
He pretended to give it some thought and then offered it to her for the modest sum of fifty pounds.
“Fifty pounds!” she exclaimed. “I won’t give a shilling over ten.”
“This is an antique!” he protested. “From one of Russia’s finest royal families. I couldn’t possibly sell it for less than forty pounds. Why, it cost me nearly that much to acquire it!”
She looked at him in amusement. “It is a fine book, to be sure. I suppose I would be satisfied with twenty pounds.”
“Done!”
“I knew I should have offered fifteen,” she grumbled.
He smiled at her. “Shall I have them delivered this afternoon?”
She pondered for a moment. “No,” she decided, “I’ll take them with me.”
“Are you sure? They are quite heavy,” he said doubtfully.
“My carriage is just down the street. I can carry them that far.” She stacked the books in her arms and started for the entrance. Mr. Littleton opened the door for her and bade her farewell.
Barely able to see around the mound of books in her arms, she craned her neck looking for her carriage. Once she caught sight of it, she shifted the heavy load and started in the direction of the street. She surmised she was about halfway when suddenly she was knocked to the ground, books flying in all directions. She heard a muffled curse.
“Oh, do pardon me,” she apologized, still unable to see who she had run into. She struggled to get up, hampered by the many books surrounding her. Suddenly she was boosted up as strong hands assisted her to her feet.
“You really should watch where you are going, Lady Penroth.”
Recognition dawned, and she got a good look at her rescuer. “Oh, it’s you,” she muttered, taking in the duke’s annoyed expression.
