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“If you prefer,” Featherington groused. He stepped in front of Berkshire to assist her into the carriage, crushing his foot in the process. Berkshire grunted and she wished she could explain to Berkshire that Featherington’s tromping on his foot was most likely accidental.
She settled back in the seat, and once they were all comfortable, Featherington tapped on the ceiling of the carriage and the vehicle rolled away.
Michael stared out the window while the adults remained quiet. Uncomfortable with the silence, Addie said to Featherington, “How is your mother, my lord?”
“Quite well, thank you. Your mother is still a bit distraught at your rebellion.”
Addie straightened, her stomach muscles clenching. How dare her mother refer to this as a rebellion. “This is not a rebellion my lord. This is my life.”
“Bravo,” Berkshire said.
Featherington waved her off. “One I’m sure you would be more than happy to give up for marriage and a family.”
Addie ground her teeth so hard they would surely be in crumbles before they arrived at the restaurant. “No, my lord. I am sorry to disagree, but I have no plans to give up my bookstore. Or my life here.”
Berkshire stepped in, most likely not wanting his son to witness fisticuffs, and made a comment about the roads and the city’s need to fix them. That resulted in a less threatening conversation that took up the remainder of the time until they reached Wolcot Street.
The restaurant was one Addie was familiar with but had only eaten at a couple of times. They were led to a table near the south wall, where they all settled in and perused the menu. While not exactly crowded, the restaurant had a decent number of diners.
Addie was taken by Michael who sat quietly in his chair, watching his father’s every move. When Berkshire asked Addie what looked good to her, the boy then looked over to her. Her heart broke a little bit at the confusion on the child’s face. She vowed right then to help Michael in whatever way she could.
After about five minutes, the waiter appeared and took their orders. Addie just wanted the meal to be over before another contentious conversation began between her and Featherington, or one of them caused some damage to the restaurant.
“So tell me, Berkshire, how is it you survive so well here, away from London?” Featherington smirked, obviously thinking that there was no place like London to call home. More specifically: Mayfair, London.
Berkshire placed his fork alongside his plate. “I was never fond of London. Too noisy, too crowded, too hot in the summer.” He shrugged and wiped a spot on Michael’s mouth with a napkin.
“What about your boy here? He would benefit from hobnobbing with the other lads of his rank.” He looked at Michael who was busy eating his food, ignoring the adults who, of course, he could not hear. “He’s a very quiet one. Is there something wrong with him?”
Addie sucked in a breath at the man’s audacity. She quickly looked over at Berkshire who was calmly chewing his food. He took a sip of wine, swallowed, and looked Featherington in the eye. “My son is deaf.”
“Ah. Too bad. I guess you’ll have to put him away soon.” Featherington continued to shovel food into his mouth, oblivious to Berkshire’s mounting rage.
“I would no more put my son ‘away’ as you stated than Miss Mallory would sell her bookstore and move back to London.” Addie could almost see the steam coming from the man’s ears. It appeared if there were to be fisticuffs it would be between him and Lord Featherington.
Featherington actually looked surprised. “I meant no insult. It’s just that—”
“Perhaps we should change the conversation, my lord.” Addie interrupted Featherington before he made an even greater fool of himself. “I believe the subject of England’s weather or the queen’s next birthday celebration are always interesting benign topics.”
Thankfully, Featherington nodded, but instead of the conversation switching to something less volatile, the rest of the meal was consumed in relative silence. She finally breathed a sigh of relief when Featherington signed the bill and they all stood to leave. She would need a tisane when she arrived home to relieve her of the pounding headache that had been served up with her dinner.
“How long do you plan to stay in Bath, Featherington?” Lord Berkshire asked, once they were all settled and the carriage on its way back to her bookstore.
Featherington looked over at Addie. “Not long.” When Addie didn’t look his way but continued to glare out the window at the passing stores, now all darkened for the evening, he added, “In fact, I will probably leave tomorrow.”
“Good,” Berkshire muttered, as the carriage rolled over the cobblestones of Bath.
Chapter Five
“I rearranged a few of your books that were placed incorrectly on the shelves.” Mr. Morton, one of Addie’s most loyal customers placed three books on the counter for her to wrap.
“Thank you so much. I can’t imagine how they got misplaced.” Addie hoped her red face didn’t give away her guilt. Because of her word blindness she oftentimes misread the book titles and authors and the books ended up in the most peculiar places.
“I am happy to help. I am sure you have a lot to take care of, running this business by yourself.” Mr. Morton was not only her most loyal customer—he claimed he never bought a book anywhere else—but he
had also been one of her very first customers.
She remembered the day Once Upon a Book opened for business under her new name. Mr. Morton, with his graying hair, slight paunch, and devil-may-care attitude had strolled through the door, looked around, smiled at her, waved his cane about, and declared, “This is my new favorite bookstore. I love the name.”
