Page 56 of Maid for the Marquess

“If my lady wants it, then she shall have it,” Alexander said gallantly as he approached me, bearing an armload of books I had already chosen from the shelves.

“Oh, but your arms are already quite full,” I protested, thinking of how dear the tomes were.

Alexander wished to spoil me, but we had already been to the jeweler, the haberdasher, and the dressmakers on Bond Street. He had been adamant that no expense was to be spared. I had no notion of the cost of what he had already bought for me—gowns that would be custom made for me and delivered to his London town house later, an exquisite parure of emeralds and sapphires, and enough sewing notions and bonnets to keep me occupied for at least the next year. Still, I knew he must have spent a fortune.

“I will deliver these to the desk and be at the ready to hold more,” Alexander told me.

I bit my lip, feeling guilty at the expenditures.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said with a wink, not waiting for my approval. “Carry on with your book shopping.”

I sighed as he left, juggling the stack of books with ease, and then turned back to the book in my hands. I hadn’t had books of my own in years. The jewels and gowns were lovely, but nothing made me happier than the thought of books that were mine alone. And this one was so very handsome. I could read the poems to Alexander in the evening by the fire. He could rest his head in my lap.

It was settled. I needed this book. Another spine caught my eye, and I slid it from the shelf.

Alexander returned, dutifully collecting another armload before I was finally contented. As we returned to our waiting carriage with the promise that the books would be delivered to the town house later that day, I sighed in pleasure.

“I could have bought the entire shop,” I told him.

Alexander grinned. “I thought you might enjoy the bookseller. Now I know the true way to your heart. I had believed it would be jewels and finery, but it is merely ink on paper, bound in leather.”

Warmth stole over me. “I think you have already found the way to my heart, my lord.”

It was the closest I dared come to a declaration.

“Then perhaps we should return to the town house and skip the last stop I had planned.”

The lightness in his tone suggested he was teasing me.

“What is the last stop?” I ventured, curious.

He grinned. “It is a surprise, Maddie mine.”

Each shop we had visited thus far had been chosen by him. Some of them, he had informed me, with the help of Lady Beckett. For, as Alexander had confided, he hadn’t an inkling which mantua-maker to choose. We had paid a call upon Lady Beckett and her husband the day before, and I had been grateful to see familiar faces amidst the bustle of London.

“I suppose I shouldn’t ruin your surprise,” I told him, curious about where else he could have planned to take me. “Although I am already extraordinarily spoiled.”

“You deserve it, wife.”

“I don’t know if I deserve it, but I shall accept it just the same.”

He smiled, looking pleased. He cocked his head, studying me, then spoke.

“Maddie mine, I want to tell you something.”

ALEXANDER

The impulsive journey I had brought Maddie on was going splendidly. Watching her take in London was a treat. She loved the same things I did. Had the same dislikes.

Spoiling her was a joy beyond compare. She was as astounded and grateful by a small bowl of cream ice as she was the lavish gifts I bestowed upon her. When the jeweler laid the trays before her of the items I had picked out, she had stared at them, bewitched and shocked, for a full five minutes. When I slipped the ring I had chosen to add to the simple gold band I had placed on her finger on our wedding day, she gasped. It was delicate and lovely—much like my wife, the tiny sapphires twinkling in the lights.

“I wanted to add to my token,” I explained.

She gazed up at me with such adoration, my breath caught.

“Nothing you give me is a token, my husband. Everything has great meaning to me.”

Unable to control myself, I bent forward and kissed her.