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Just as she thought she might give in and take a step toward him, maybe even do something horrendously stupid, the sound of the bell ringing above the store's front door helped return her wits to her. Quickly looking away from him, she was relieved when she heard him shuffle slightly back.

"Julia? Julia, are you still in here?" Came the call from the front of the store and Julia breathed a sigh of relief at hearing her friend. Though she realised alarmingly that she had to tamp down a little disappointment at the thought of having to leave the store.

"Please excuse me, sir," she said, dipping her head and curtseying slightly. Feeling her cheeks heat once more, she added, "And thank you for the book."

Then, just as quickly, she scurried around him. The tightness of the aisle was awkward for a moment and her skirts were difficult to manoeuvre, but the man bowed his head to her and pressed himself back against the shelf to let her pass. A part of her almost wished that he had tried to prevent her from leaving, that maybe he might have something further to say, or maybe even some kind of invitation to give.

"Good afternoon, miss," he said simply and she could feel his eyes still upon her even as she rounded the shelf and hurried toward the front of the store, forgetting all the other books that she had placed on the nearby table to purchase.

Only the one in her hand mattered now, though she almost forgot to pay for it in her haste to escape the bookstore. It was an odd sensation to wish to do so after the store had been such a safe haven to her over the years. She dared not even look back as she met Chelsea beside the door.

Almost immediately, her friend noticed the look on her face. Chelsea raised one perfect blonde eyebrow and asked, "What is the matter with you? You're looking all flustered."

"Hush!" Julia insisted, still able to feel eyes upon her, even though she was certain that she could hear the sound of heavy boots walking away. She had to be imagining it. After all, what possible reason could he have to still be watching her?

"The man behind me… is he watching?" she hissed under her breath at Chelsea even as she placed the Locke book on the counter to make the purchase. She cringed when Chelsea lifted her gaze and moved her head immediately to look over Julia's shoulder, making no attempt to be discreet about it.

"What man?" Chelsea asked, sounding a little confused and maybe even concerned. "I see nobody."

Julia breathed a deep sigh of relief. Maybe she had imagined feeling him watching her after all, but the thought of that was a little disappointing.

As if she saw the disappointment on her face, Chelsea leaned in closer and asked, "Miss Julia Pritchard, have you been talking to a gentleman?" There was excitement in her tone and a glint of amusement in her brown eyes. "Who is he?"

"No one," Julia insisted, though her stomach clenched the moment she realised that even if she wanted to, she could not properly answer her friend's question. After all, she had failed to gain the man's name. When she closed her eyes she could still see his handsome face and she couldn't help but wonder,what name would do such a beautiful man justice?

"Julia, are you going to pay for that?" Chelsea asked, her brow furrowing, and Julia realised she had once more lost herself in thought. Both Chelsea and the store assistant were waiting for her to complete the purchase of the Locke book.

"Forgive me, I think I have exhausted myself looking at all your wonderful books," Julia announced, her face heating all over again as she handed over the money for her purchase and waited for the assistant to finish wrapping it up for her.

"We should get going before we are missed," Chelsea pointed out as soon as the purchase was complete. "The modiste promised to have the modifications completed and said she would have her assistant deliver it in time for this evening's event."

"That is a relief." Julia smiled, though she didn't exactly have all that much interest in gowns after what had just occurred. She was just relieved that her friend hadn't lingered on the subject of the handsome and mysterious stranger. She was having a difficult enough time forgetting him without her help.

Even as she followed her friend from the bookstore, she couldn't help but wonder,will I ever be able to look at this book without seeing his face?

Chapter 2

Who was she?The question followed Gabriel Tatford, Earl of Sutthers, for the entire carriage ride home. The woman in the bookstore had dressed and spoken as if she were a lady and yet he couldn’t possibly believe her to be a member of theton. After all, what kind of lady of society spent her time in bookshops looking for titles written by John Locke, of all people? In fact, what lady of thetonspent any time in a bookstore at all?

Even when the carriage pulled up outside his London townhouse, Gabriel still could not remove thoughts of the young brunette from his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her beautiful blue gaze staring back at him and he cursed himself for not having even bothered to get her name.

He had been too intoxicated with her to even think about introducing himself. Though their conversation hadn’t been long and barely a proper word spoken, it had been a far more stimulating conversation than any he had shared with a woman since arriving in England two years earlier when his father had been named the earl before him.

“My lord?” came an inquisitive and almost concerned voice after the carriage door had been open for several minutes. Gabriel grunted, suddenly realising he had been allowing his thoughts to wander off with him. “Are you well, my lord?”

“Yes, very well. Thank you,” Gabriel said, climbing down from the carriage and allowing the coachman to close the door firmly behind him.

“Have a good rest of your day, my lord,” the coachman said, tipping his hat to the earl.

“I shall and you too, good sir,” Gabriel responded, tipping his own hat, though he couldn’t help but wonder if his day would be a good one after all. His morning had been quite pleasant, enjoyable even with his conversation in the bookstore, and yet now there was a deep-seated disappointment in his gut that left him feeling more than a little uneasy.

Taking the porch steps two at a time, Gabriel slipped through the front door of the townhouse that was automatically opened up for him by the butler as if the old man had been watching and waiting for his return.

“Did you have a pleasant trip into town, my lord?” Mr Peters asked as he took the earl’s coat and hat from him.

“Yes‌, Peters.” Gabriel nodded. For once he had not been sneered at or felt the watchful eyes of the English gentlefolk as they looked at the half-English, half-Italian man who had somehow become a lord.

At least, he had not noticed any such thing, though he thought it was likely continued behind his back, just as it always would be. Why would anyone try to find anything better to talk about than the natural-born son of an English nobleman and a poor Italian woman?

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