Page 21 of A Countess Never Tells

“As I am in hopes of partnering you in at least one dance there, I will remain here and hold myself in anticipation of seeing the new gloves and ribbons at the ball.” It likely wouldn’t do, in any case, for the two of them to be seen together shopping for something as intimate as gloves. Not unless they were married or affianced. Next thing he’d hear would be his name linked to Miss Tate’s in a betrothal, and while that was the ultimate goal, he wanted to woo her and her family before becoming the latest on-dit on everyone’s lips.

True to her word, Miss Tate and her maid emerged in little more than ten minutes. A swift shopper indeed. He offered his arm, and they were off to the bookseller in Becher Street.

“Have you been there before, my lord? It’s the one at the sign of the cow.” Her voice sounded playful, which was delicious in its own right.

“A cow? Why isn’t it a book, do you suppose?” Ash pretended to muse about it. “I’d think that was more forthright. I wonder if the proprietor gets many customers in looking for cuts of meat.”

Sputtering with laughter, Miss Tate shook her head, releasing several little wisps of hair from beneath her prettily trimmed straw hat. “I’ve never thought to ask him, my lord. I’ve always thought it was because books are usually bound in leather or calfskin.”

“That does make sense of a sort, I must admit.” A beautiful, witty, and playful woman was a rare find in society these days. “What also makes sense, Miss Tate, is for you to call me Ash. All my friends do, and after last night, I’d like to think of you as a good friend.”

Miss Tate stiffened beside him. She knew, as he did, that it was too soon for such an intimate request, and of course, the request should come from the lady, not the gentleman. “That is gratifying, my lord.”

So, she was thinking it over.

“But may I ask what your first name is?” She smiled her lovely smile at him, causing his heart to make that odd thump again. “It is customary for friends to exchange Christian names, is it not?” Miss Tate’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and Ash’s hopes of escaping this revelation sank. “Ash is a nickname, isn’t it, from your title? Unless your Christian name is Ashton, perhaps?”

Touché, Miss Tate.

“No, I fear it is not Ashton, nor Ashby, nor Ashlin.” Ash shook his head. He absolutely hated his given name. “It’s Galahad.”

“Galahad? Like the knight from King Arthur’s Round Table?” Miss Tate beamed at him.

“The same. I see that brings you joy, Miss Tate, therefore I am satisfied to have pleased you. However, I beg of you, if you will use an intimate name for me, please make it Ash.”

“Then you may call me Kitty, Ash. It is short for Catherine, but I too prefer the shortened version of the name.” Her smile broadened, as though he’d delighted her.

Ash’s smile was no less wide.

Kitty strode along beside him, apparently unaware that she’d taken another irrevocable step toward becoming his betrothed.

They arrived at the sign of the cow, and this time Ash did accompany Kitty and her maid inside. He was very interested in discovering what kind of books she read.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fisher. I believe you have something for me?” Kitty’s smile for the bookseller was no less genuine than her one for Ash.

“Good afternoon, Miss Tate. Yes, I do. It’s right here.” The little man handed her a slim volume. “Do you wish me to obtain volume three for you as well?”

“Yes, please. If volume two is half as good as volume one, I will wish to continue with the next one immediately.” The excitement in her voice and the way she clutched the book to her bosom piqued Ash’s interest.

“What book are you reading, Miss Tate?”

She turned to him, her head cocked, brows raised. “I believe you were to call me Kitty, if you remember, Ash.” She held the slim volume out to him. Calfskin embossed in gold.

He took it, realizing immediately what it was. “Richardson’s Clarissa?”

“Do you know it?” Excitement in every line of her face, Kitty looked as though she would dance for joy.

“Indeed, I do.” What self-respecting rake would not have read the most detailed plan for luring innocent young ladies into debauchery? “You’ve finished the first volume, then?”

“Oh, yes, weeks ago. I’d hoped Mr. Fisher had a copy of volume two, but he had to order it.” She took the book back from Ash, holding it reverently. “I am just at the point where Robert Lovelace has written to his friend, John Beltane, professing his love for Clarissa.”

“And you are enjoying the book so far?” Ash looked at her keenly.

“Of course.” Kitty looked incredulous that he should even ask. “I think her family is horrid to try to make her marry Mr. Solmes. He seems a most disagreeable person. Thank you, Mr. Fisher,” Kitty called to the man as they turned to go. She tucked her arm into Ash’s. “I’m ready now.”

Ash opened the door and escorted her out to the street. “What do you think of Lovelace?”

“Oh, he’s very dashing. So much better than Solmes. I’m hoping Clarissa will go off with him so they can be married.”