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And he’d be spending more time with Lady Beatrice. Just like he’d dreamed about.
The dreaming stopped now.
“I swear to you that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Foxton from stealing the bookshop from you,” he promised.
He’d sworn to his mother that he’d never reveal his blood connection to Foxton and therefore he couldn’t tell the lady that he also had a personal motive for accepting her offer. Let her think he’d taken it solely for profit, and for the good report she would give her brother of his work.
Ford had vowed to never have his life or his fate controlled or owned by any man... there were no rules about bookish ladies.
Why would he say no? This was easy money.He’d have comfortable accommodations, a housekeeper to prepare his meals, a large bankroll, and he’d be impeding his grandfather’s plans.
It was a winning proposition all around.
And the offer came from an employer who was a damn sight more pulchritudinous than old Griff.
Though her allure was more of a warning bell than an incentive. He must keep his attraction to the lady firmly under control at all times. This was a straightforward business proposition.
A duke’s sister wouldn’t be allowed to spend too much time on the Strand. She’d be out most days hobnobbing with other highborn ladies and gentlemen.
What could go wrong? If she did visit the shop, he’d be working and she’d stay well away from him for fear of besmirching her costly silk gowns.
“I have a rule as well, Lady Beatrice.”
“Oh?” She inclined her head.
“Absolutely no bonnets trimmed with sonnets.”
A faint smile hovered at her lips. “I’ll never wear it again, Mr. Wright.”
“You could never see it again, if you chose. What if a strong gust of wind blew it off your head? Then it wouldn’t be your fault if it disappeared.”
“My mother’s choice of millinery, like her aspiration for my future, is bound tightly by stout ribbons and stifling social conventions.”
“What if your maid had left the ribbons only loosely tied and they slipped undone through no fault of your own?”
He caught the edge of one rosy silk ribbon between his thumb and forefinger and tugged steadily until the bow beneath her chin came loose.
Chapter Eleven
Beatrice’s breath caught as he loosened her bonnet ribbons. If he removed her bonnet, there would be no barriers left between them.
Would that be so very terrible?
He untied the red silk ribbons until they hung freely down her neck and over her bosom.
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t see much anyway because, predictably, her spectacles had gone murky, whether from his breath or hers. He was very near. Within kissing distance.
She’d just made him promise to never mention the subject of kissing.
You didn’t say anything about actual kisses, you dolt.
The carriage lurched to a halt.
She was saved.
When they alighted, Wright lifted a finger to the air. “What a strong breeze there is today.”
Before she knew what was happening, he’d plucked her bonnet off her head and flung it into the avenue, where it cartwheeled for a moment until it was squashed flat by carriage wheels.
