There was hardly a need to grimace about the thought of being attached to her. In fact, hewasattached to her. He simply didn’t know it. She opened her mouth to question his distaste about being involved with her, but he interrupted her.“To answer your question, the bookstore owner, Mr. Garvis is young and handsome…and happily married. The selection there is slim, but he is happy to order books for you if there is one you are interested in.”
She would be gone in less than three weeks. “I don’t think there will be time for that.”
He didn’t react to her words. If anything, his whole body stilled almost imperceptibly. “Ah, I suppose you are correct.”
“But I would be happy to browse what he does have. My evenings with Mrs. Tucker are quiet, and Mr. Bennion’s selection of books is nearly nonexistent.”
He nodded and let out a puff of air, as if it pained him. “I have a small collection of books in my room. If you are interested in Shakespeare, Dickens, Dumas, or various poets, I may have something for you to borrow. No need to buy books if you are only going to be here a few weeks.”
She hadn’t been counting the words Mr. Harrison had spoken to her, but she would wager that this sentence was his longest. It also showed a side of him that she hadn’t seen before. Mr. Harrison was a reader. Why had Lady Bridgewater never mentioned that? And Dickens. She loved Dickens. It would be nice to be able to read Dickens in the evenings. And to have one of Mr. Harrison’s books? She might grow closer to him from that than from riding in his cart. “It sounds to me as though ye have more books than the bookstore.”
He tipped his head to one side. “I haven’t counted Mr. Garvis’s collection, but you might be right.”
Had he packed a library when he ran away from their impending wedding? “How did ye go about collectin’ so many books?”
He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think a cart driver can enjoy reading?”
“’Tisn’t that. ’Tis just…”
His back straightened. “You don’t think I can afford it.”
“I did wonder how…”
He shrugged. “Reading is important to me. I don’t need much living on my own, but it didn’t take me long to discover I needed books. It was the one thing I missed when—” He stopped.
She didn’t press him. She didn’t need to. It was the one thing he missed when he left Bridgewater House.
Was he taking money from his family? She had always assumed Lord and Lady Bridgewater never knew his location, but were they somehow supporting him financially? She glanced at his clothes. They were clean, but rough and worn. She hadn’t seen where he lived, but in her conversations with Mr. Bennion before he’d left town, it was clear that Mr. Harrison rented a room. One room. If his parents were helping him, he wouldn’t be renting a solitary room and delivering goods every day. Books must be more important to him than clothes.
That was a delightful change from his mother.
Mr. Harrison pulled the cart to a stop.
“This delivery might take some time. You are welcome to stay in the cart.”
They had stopped in front of a small house, just a few streets from the main part of town. “If it takes some time, shouldn’t I join ye?” Mr. Harrison glanced at the house and then back at her. With a sigh, he raised his shoulders as if to saydo whatever you wish. “I’ll come.”
He picked up his package, descended, and helped her down. Whatever was in that package with the red bow was going to a person at this house. Had he bought it, or was it another package a young lady asked to have delivered, when she very well could have brought it home herself?
“Why will this delivery take longer?”
“This one is a gift. I’m going to stay while she opens it.”
“She?”
“Miss Garvis.”
“The daughter of the bookstore owner?” Mr. Harrison nodded. “But you said Mr. Garvis is young.”
“He is young, but old enough to have a daughter.”
Mr. Harrison knocked on the door. On either side of them, the Garvis family had planted rows of flowers, which left Lucy little choice but to stand either behind Mr. Harrison or right beside him. She edged forward. She certainly wasn’t going to stand behind her fiancé while he delivered a present to another woman. Besides, it wasn’t her fault that the flowers were so confining.
The door opened and a flawless woman with dark hair appeared. When the woman saw Mr. Harrison, her face broke into a captivating smile.
Lucy gritted her teeth and eyed Mr. Harrison. How old was Mr. Garvis, exactly? Would Mr. Harrison consider a man of forty to be young? A man of forty could possibly have a daughter this age.
“Mr. Scarper!” the woman said. “It’s wonderful to see you.” Her brilliant emerald eyes flashed to Lucy. “Who have you brought with you?”
