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I laugh. But he’s serious. And just like that, my interest dies. What a pompous, boring man. I can tell from that action alone that he’s not much different from the people in this town. The only difference is he has chosen to speak to me. A gesture I appreciate lesser with each second that passes.
“Thank you, sir. But I’m quite all right. I possess enough coins to purchase my own coffee,” I say, before walking away.
“Do tell, what is your name?” he asks, stepping in front of me.
He is as slow at reading the room as he is pompous. Swallowing, I fashion another smile before bowing. “Olivia, sir.” My attempt to make a turn around him is yet again obstructed.
“Olivia, I will forgive your apparent disinterest as it’s clear that you do not know who I am. I am Heath, otherwise known as Lord Everton. I have quite the hefty estate. One that all these women would love to get their hands on,” he starts.
“Well, congratulations, My Lord. You must be so proud,” I respond, though my feet face outward, toward the door.
“Indeed. But I’m looking for someone to be lady of that estate and until now, I’ve never seen a finer prospect. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, however lacking in jewels and silks you may be. You do not seem to twitter as much as the other ninnies that gawk at me,” he whispers. “I must have you, and I’m sure that someone like me could be the answer to your every prayer…” He looks at me from head to toe as if he pities me.
“Lord Everton, please. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I can’t be lady of your estate. I’m sure if you reconsider, you’ll find that other prospects are more suitable,” I respond, gasping at his boldness and arrogance.
“But dear Olivia, there’s plenty of time to get to know each other after marriage, wouldn’t you say?” he asks, reaching out to touch me but restraining himself when I look down at his hand.
Marriage? That’s it. This man is positively insane. “Sir, I’m not property. You can’t just look at me, decide you’ll have me, and then attempt to purchase me with whatever riches you may have. I appreciate your proposal, but I’m not interested.”
Coffee no longer seems satisfying to me, and I spin, making my way toward the exit. I can hear him at the heel of my slippers. “Sir, please. Don’t follow me. You’re frightening me,” I gasp.
With that, he stops in front of me, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I must appear quite eager, but I mean you no harm. Your countenance is just so pleasing. It complements my own so perfectly, I think we’re a match handpicked by angels,” he says.
Inhaling deeply, I gulp. “Lord Everton, matches are founded on more than just one’s agreeable good looks or riches. We may not even like each other…” I say too quickly, before needing to amend my words, before he’s made aware of my truth. Heaven knows how he would react to that insult. “…if we were to get to know each other better.”
“Then let us get to know each other. Promise me you will,” he says while I’m at the door. My escape is near, and I say what I must to reach it.
“Perhaps, one day, Lord Everton.” Curtseying, I pick up my skirts and hurry away, almost running into a carriage coming down the street. The wheels screech against the pavement, and the horses neigh in complete fright.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say to both horse and carriage driver before hurrying away and ducking into the first shop I find. A smile brushes across my face when I see that it’s a book shop. My venture today hasn’t yielded many friends. And if Heath is to be my only friend, I can think of no greater misfortune. Books will provide me with the company I need.
“Are you lost, young lady?”
The grey-haired shopkeeper, balding in the middle, with large and unflattering sideburns, looks up at me over his spectacles. “Lost? Why would I be lost?” I ask, catching my breath and fanning myself to cope with the building heat beneath my layers. Towering shelves of hard-bound books surround me, quickening my heart.
“Well, very few young ladies show much interest in reading. And you appear to have been running from something.” He gestures toward the door.
“Right.” I sigh. “Well, I guess I’m one of the lucky few interested in feeding my mind. I was a governess back in Glenindelle,” I confess. That’s one thing the gossip ladies got right. Except for the part where I smell like fish. I don’t… at least, I don’t think I do. I cut myself off before revealing that when my father and I decided to move to Colderidge, we did so in such a rush that I couldn’t bring my books.
My father still hasn’t made me aware of the reason for our rush. He’s claimed to be too excited to wait.
“I love a great story. Especially those published by female authors.” I smile.
“In any case, you don’t appear to be able to afford the books in my store. Try the traders down by the market,” he says with a look at me from head to muddied hem.
“On the contrary, sir, I can afford to purchase several of these fine books,” I respond, shaking my reticule. “I’ll pay the market a visit another time as I’m sure their books are just as fine. But, as night is swiftly approaching, I’d like to purchase a book before making my journey back home,” I respond.
He looks at his pocket watch, sceptically. The truth is that there’s still some time left before nightfall, but as I walk here, it’ll take me much longer to return home. Supposing I spend some of my pin money on a carriage, I’ll arrive home much sooner, but I need not spend money on such frivolities.
“Very well,” the shopkeeper responds with a turn of his nose. I almost want to remove myself from the shop without fattening his pocket. Why do they all look at me the same way? With a deep breath, I reach for one of the first books I see, a poetry book, and I pay for it swiftly before making my way out the glass door.
At least something good has come from my journey out today, even if much of it has been miserable. But I’m looking forward to reading these poems under candlelight tonight.
As I approach our brick-and-mortar home, on a decently sized estate, I notice the glowering lantern light flickering through all the windows. Uh oh. I gasp. Chance neighs from the stable, and my heart plummets. Taking a deep breath, I consider my words as I venture up the steps and approach the door slowly.
The front door hasn’t even opened all the way before my father’s feet stomp along the wooden floors toward me.
“Where on earth have you been?” he asks, raising his voice slightly. His anger is temporary, however, when his brown eyes soften.
