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Addie placed the feather duster under the counter. “I have the two books you requested, so that should give you days and days of happiness.” She bent over a pile of books near the front door and began sorting through them.
The bell on the door chimed once again, but Addie continued searching for Lottie’s books. She continued what she was doing since most times customers preferred to walk around the store, browsing the shelves to see what interests them, rather than have the attention of the salesclerk immediately.
In the back of her mind, she fleetingly realized she didn’t hear the sound of someone walking around.
“Addie,” Lottie whispered.
“Yes?” She started on the second stack of books. She really should sort them better when they arrived, put categories together. But like everything else in her life, things just seemed to get jumbled up.
Lottie cleared her throat. “Addie, I think you should stop that for now.”
“No. I know it’s here. I remember seeing it when I unpacked the cartons yesterday.” She moved to the third stack. “Just give me a minute.”
“Excuse me, miss.” A very deep, very male, voice rumbled through the room.
Addie bolted upright, smoothing back the hair that had fallen from her topknot. “Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t see you enter.”
The man frowned. “Lord.”
Addie stared for a minute. “What?”
“Lord. I am Lord Berkshire.”
Oh, good grief. Another aristocrat looking down his nose at her, most likely disapproving. She cleared her throat and assumed a more professional demeanor. “As in the Earl of?”
He nodded. Apparently speaking more than a few words at a time was too much effort for his lordship. Now that she’d gotten a good look at him, she remembered him from numerous social events years ago where he looked right through her. Berkshire represented every man she’d ever met in London.
This man, as she recalled, was a widower and some sort of scandal had surrounded his wife’s death. Since Addie was not friends with the gossipers and those ‘in the know’ she had nothing more than that scant bit of information. She’d always thought, however, that despite his mien of arrogance and privilege, he had sad eyes. Like an abandoned puppy.
His dark blond hair was cut in the first state of fashion. Despite the current trend for mutton chops and mustaches, Berkshire was clean-shaven, leaving his aristocratic features and the sharp lines of his jaw quite visible. His deep brown eyes regarded her with a mix of annoyance and impatience.
He was also dressed quite fashionably in a dark gray superfine wool suit, lavender and black waistcoat, and black ascot.
“Miss?” There was that slight rumble again of his voice. Deep, raspy, and . . . impatient.
She was appalled to realize she’d been staring at the man. Flustered, she said, “My apology, my lord. How may I help you?” Although she had recognized him, he apparently did not remember her at all. Which was no surprise. It was rather difficult to recall someone you’d never really looked at. But then again, one did not expect to see a lady one had met at a ton event working in a bookstore.
“I am in need of a book. I had hoped if you did not have what I require, you can perhaps order it for me.” Goodness, the man’s nose was so far up in the air, he would most likely drown in a rainstorm.
“That I can do,” she said, “what book are you looking for?”
Just then Lottie tapped Addie on the shoulder. “Excuse me. I will come back for my books later. I have two students arriving shortly.”
“All right. I will have them for you when you come by for tea.” She smiled and waved at her friend, then turned her attention back to Lord Berkshire, who was frowning at her.
She sighed inwardly. Patience was obviously not a strong point with his lordship. “I apologize once again, my lord, what book did you say you were interested in?”
“I am hoping to find a book that teaches sign language.” His words were clipped, almost as if he disliked saying them.
Addie tilted her head and tapped her lips with her fingertip. “Sign language? I am afraid I am not familiar with that term. What is it?”
A slight slumping of his lordship’s shoulders was the only indication of his distress at her words. “It is a practice over a hundred years old, but not well-known, I’m afraid. It is a way for people who are deaf to communicate with others. They use their fingers and hands to form letters and words.”
“Oh, how very interesting.”
He nodded, his demeanor undergoing a considerable change as he spoke. “There are even schools that teach it to children who are afflicted with deafness. It’s a growing movement.” His eyes were bright, and his initial stiffness gone.
She became enthralled as he continued to acquaint her with the beginning of sign language and how it had progressed over the years. His handsome face grew even more so as he smiled—he had a dimple—waved his hands about—large, strong hands—and his body relaxed—truly a fine, admirable form.
