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The day before a torrential rain and windstorm had kept her from attending church, something she never did. She also had a bit of a cold and decided staying indoors with a warm toddy and a book would be fine with the Lord. Her newest read was Miss Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Even though it was an old book, she was thoroughly enjoying reading about times past.
Miss Austen had lived in Bath for a short time. Rumor had it that she didn’t care for the city, but there were some spots she did enjoy. In any event, she could not have disliked it too much since two of her books, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, were both set in Bath.
As was usual, the day after a storm brought clear, crisp air and bright sunshine. The golden rays streamed through the window next to her, bathing her in warmth and light. She looked up at the sound of the door chime. A gentleman unknown to her stepped in and glanced around.
Addie rose from her desk and walked to the front of the store. “Good morning, sir. I am Miss Mallory, owner of Once Upon a Book. Is there something particular you are interested in?”
“Yes.” He grinned. “You.”
She startled. “Excuse me?”
“I came to see you.” He removed his bowler hat, tucking it under his arm, and gave a sharp bow. “I am Lord Featherington. My mother is a friend of your mother and since I was making a trip to Bath for business purposes, the ladies asked if I would stop in to see you. Maybe escort you to dinner, or the theater while I am here.”
Oh, Mother, no. Please, no.
Since she never expected to see him outside of a London ballroom, she had not recognized the man immediately. Lord Featherington was known to her. Unfortunately. “How very nice of you to visit our city, my lord. How long do you plan to stay?”
He winked. Actually winked! “It depends.”
She would not play into his hand and ask what his visit depended upon. “Well, I hope you have a wonderful visit. I am quite busy right now, if you would care to take a look around, I am sure we have something here that will pique your interest.”
The words had no sooner left her mouth than she wanted to snatch them back. Just as she feared, he immediately used them against her. “I have already found something—or should I say someone—to pique my interest.”
She groaned inwardly. Mr. Featherington was the male version of her. He was not socially adept and had a horrible habit of crashing into the things she managed to miss. She’d witnessed him falling into the Serpentine one time chasing his dog, being thrown from his curricle when he took a corner too fast, and missing the last step entering a ballroom, stumbling into Lady Montrose, bringing them both to the floor.
She could only imagine the disaster that would occur if they joined forces and stormed a restaurant or theater. She shuddered to think of the carnage.
“As much as I would enjoy dinner or the theater, I have quite a heavy schedule.” She waved in the direction of the bookcases. “Running the store takes up all my time.”
He shook his head and offered what she was sure he thought was a charming smile. It looked to her like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. “I refuse to believe you don’t even take time for lunch or dinner. I will pick you up here at six o’clock, which is the time your sign says you close.” He waved his finger in her face. “I will not take no for an answer since I must report back to my mother upon my return to London.”
Oh, good heavens. I’ll bet you do. The mothers would be waiting with bated breath.
The only way she could refuse was to be downright rude and her mother might very well make the trip to Bath to chastise her in person if she did. The last thing she needed was Mother visiting her again. She still had not recovered from her last visit. “Then if you insist.” She gave an imitation of a smile.
“I do.” He took her hand and stared into her eyes. “I will see you at six o’clock then.” With those words, he turned on his heel, walked to the door, barely missing a table with books displayed on it, and left. She breathed a sigh of relief that the store was still standing.
Grayson stopped in front of Once Upon a Book and released Michael’s hand to smooth his hair and check the rest of his appearance. Grayson could never understand how the lad could do nothing more than ride in his carriage and come out looking like he’d been rolling down hills in the park. But then again, four-year-old boys did have a way of messing themselves up. He should know since he’d been a boy once himself.
He wanted to explain to Michael that he was visiting a friend, but until he found a way to communicate with his son, he lived with the frustration of the damnable silence. He gave him a warm smile, hoping that would tell him this was somewhere pleasant.
Taking his hand once again, he opened the door to the store and entered. Miss Mallory was at the back of the store, sitting at a desk, hunched over a ledger. He walked toward her, noting four customers browsing the shelves. Grayson checked his watch again. He purposely timed his arrival near to closing time in hopes that he could persuade her to join them for dinner.
“Good evening, Miss Mallory.”
She looked up, a bright smile covering her face, and bringing one to his. She must have been struggling with her books because her hair was falling down in tiny wisps near her temples and ears. There was a smudge of lead pencil on her chin and she’d opened the top button of her shirtwaist. Yet she looked so appealing, he had a hard time finding his voice and controlling the thumping of his heart.
“I would like to introduce you to my son, Master Michael Thompson, the Viscount Falmouth.”
She pushed her chair back and came around the desk to squat in front of Michael. She cupped his cheeks in her hands, laying her thumbs on his neck, and spoke directly to him. “Such an impressive title for a little boy. Hello, Michael.” Then she smiled. Of course, Michael didn’t know what she said, but the smile told him all he needed to know, apparently, because he smiled back.
Grayson was stunned to see tears in her eyes when she looked up him. “He’s beautiful.”
Damnation, he hated how his heartbeat continued to increase, and how warm he felt inside. This woman could be dangerous to him. Yet he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And like a moth, if he continued to dance around her, teasing himself, getting closer and closer, he would go up in flames.
However, he did enjoy her company, and her interest in his son, so he would just need to keep her at a distance to protect his heart. And avoid incineration.
“We are ready to make our purchases,” one of the customers had wandered back to Miss Mallory’s desk.
