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“I tend to lose my place when I’m reading, so I guess the rest of the sentence. Sometimes I can only skim the page, and my eyes land on certain words which tells me what the author is saying on that page.”
Berkshire let out a slow whistle and shook his head. “So that is why you said you were not a voracious reader even though you own a bookstore?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “Amazingly enough, I love books. I always have. But they, unfortunately, do not love me back.”
How very odd that the one person he met who showed understanding and sympathy for Michael has an issue of her own. On the other hand, there was nothing odd about it. She most likely had to deal with criticisms and misunderstanding all her life.
“Also,” she continued, “I find directions confusing. What I mean is, not only left and right, but forward and backward, up and down.” She offered a soft, somewhat self-deprecating laugh. “My parents were always afraid when I left the house.”
What an amazing woman. Not only did she live with this unusual affliction, but she had the courage to open a business. “You are an incredible person, Miss Mallory.”
She came to a halt. “Why, thank you, my lord.” She flushed again and dipped a slight curtsy, apparently wanting to lighten the conversation.
“You mentioned before that your parents allowed you to live your dream to own a bookstore. Do they live in Bath, also?”
“No. They live in London. It took some persuading to convince them I would be just fine on my own. However, they insisted I bring my companion and chaperone—goodness at my age I hate that term—Mrs. Wesley.”
They made their way around the rectory and headed back to the church hall. The air had grown chillier and he was aware of Miss Mallory rubbing her hands up and down her arms.
“Would you care to wear my jacket?”
“No. Thank you very much, we are almost back to the church hall.” Almost as a second thought, she said, “I assume from our conversations you do not remember me?”
Grayson frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
Miss Mallory studied the last of the summer flowers along the path. “I have been subjected to six years of London Seasons. I have seen you with a few of your friends several times at various events.”
“You have?” How could he not have remembered her?
She nodded. “Do not fret, my lord. I am not the sort of woman who gains attention from gentlemen. If you saw me at all, it was probably after I walked into a footman carrying a full tray of drinks.”
He tried very hard to keep the pity from his eyes. With this woman’s courage, pity was the last thing she deserved. “Ah, so that is why the escape to Bath.”
“I like to think I was not escaping. I liken it to not running from but running towards.”
“A very good way to think about it.” They had reached the end of the path that led them back to the church hall. “Thank you for the walk. I will escort you inside and then I will take my leave. I promised to read to Michael.”
They entered the hall, the noise of dozens of conversations greeting them. The orchestra was playing another waltz, and there were several couples on the dance floor. Grayson led Miss Mallory to the table, pulled out her chair, and gave a slight bow to the others at the table. “I wish you all a good day.” With those words, he turned on his heel and headed toward the bride and groom. He offered his felicitations and explained the reason for his early departure was his promise to Michael.
“Give him our love,” his cousin said. Diana was perhaps his favorite cousin, one of the few who did not look at Michael as an oddity. “You must come and bring Michael for a visit once we have returned from our wedding trip.”
“If I get to London, I will surely send word. Enjoy your trip.” He shook hands with Mr. Calvert, Diana’s new husband, and made his way to the door.
“Be sure to make time for me, young man.” Aunt Mary thumped her cane a few times as he passed her table. He bent and kissed the weathered cheek. “I will be there.”
“And bring your young lady, too.”
There was no point in telling Aunt Mary there was no young lady, and if he had his way, there would never again be a young lady.
Liar.
Chapter Four
The Monday after the wedding, Addie sat at her small desk at the back of the store working on her ledgers. The task was laborious and with her deficiency, torturous. Once she felt the business could absorb the cost, she would hire a bookkeeper. But until then, she forced herself to do a little bit of the work each day, so it didn’t
pile up.
Two women who had arrived together browsed the shelves, commenting to each other on various books they looked through. Another woman with a small child was going through the shelf of children’s books. She really should see about ordering some more. Her children’s section was gaining more and more visitors each week.
