As impatient as he was, Carter still managed to wait several days before again visiting the bookstore. However, he was disappointed to find Lady Pamela in charge and Miss Danvers nowhere in sight.
“G-g-good afternoon, Mr. W-w-westbrooke.” Lady Pamela greeted him as he entered. He tried very hard not to show his disappointment since he didn’t want to insult Lady Pamela.
“Good afternoon to you as well, Lady Pamela. You are looking quite well.”
She blushed. “T-thank you.”
He glanced around the store, then casually asked, “The last time I was here, Miss Danvers was in charge. Do you take turns?” Hopefully that question wasn’t too blatant, but by the slight smile she offered him, he didn’t think he’d fooled her.
“Yes, we d-do take t-turns. Her d-day is t-t-tomorrow.” Although it was quite painful to listen to the poor girl, Carter allowed her to take her time to say what she wanted to say. Stuttering must be a very annoying affliction.
Trying to dispel the real reason for his visit, he nodded. “I will take a look around.”
He browsed for about fifteen minutes finding two books he would add to his library, when the door opened, and Miss Danvers entered. His heart sped up and he chided himself for his foolishness.
She didn’t see him at first, and to keep it that way, he moved behind a bookcase that blocked him from her view. She pulled off her gloves and having spotted Lady Pamela, moved toward her. “How is business?”
“Fine. We have been busy enough.”
Carter was amazed at how easily Lady Pamela had responded to Miss Danvers. Apparently, her stutter was less prevalent when she was speaking to a friend. He wasn’t overly familiar with the affliction, but that explanation made sense.
The two women put their heads together and Carter knew precisely when Lady Pamela told her he was in the store because Miss Danvers stiffened, and for a moment, he thought she would flee. Before she could do that, he stepped out from behind the bookcase. “Good afternoon, Miss Danvers.”
“Mr. Westbrooke.” she nodded at him. “Such a surprise.” Her smirk baffled him. Was she pleasantly surprised, or annoyed?
“I am afraid w-w-e are about t-t-to close the store for our t-t-tea break,” Lady Pamela said. He then noticed the store was empty except for the three of them. “W-w-would you c-c-care to join us f-for tea?”
Miss Danvers swung her eyes to Lady Pamela with an expression that should have set the poor woman’s clothes on fire. The polite thing to do was refuse since it was obvious Miss Danvers did not want him there, but he could not let this opportunity pass him by.
Instead, he bowed. “I would be delighted to have tea with such charming ladies. Thank you very much.”
Lottie wanted to shake Pamela. The last thing she wanted to do was sit down again with the earl’s son. That was how she’d thought of him since their ill-fated lunch when she learned he was a member of the ton. He must surely know her mother. Or at least know about her. As she tossed and turned in bed that night, she had the horrible thought that perhaps he’d even availed himself of her services.
It was that consideration which sent her to the water closet to bring up the little bit of food she’d eaten that day. Then she calmed herself with the thought that if he knew her mother that well, he would have noticed—and most likely commented on—the likeness between them.
She had been much happier living in Bath dealing with her young charges and her two friends before Mr. Westbrooke had entered her life. Why couldn’t he go away and leave her alone? Then she wouldn’t have to acknowledge this ridiculous pull she had toward him.
As they made their way to the back of the store, Lottie fought the beginning of a megrim. She glanced at Mr. Westbrooke as they all settled in the chairs surrounding the table that held their tea things. He was still studying her in a way that only put her more on edge. He was such a wonderful man, she hated that he might think she didn’t care for him.
She did care for him. Probably much more than she should. But she could not change who she was or who he was. His family no doubt expected him to make an excellent match and that certainly did not mean a courtesan’s daughter. They would be appalled.
Pamela hopped up and retrieved another cup, saucer, and plate for their guest and began to pour the tea.
Lottie was afraid to even pick up her cup since she knew her hand was shaking like leaves clinging to the branches in a windstorm. If she were to get through this, she had to gain control of herself. She was a strong woman, and it was only tea.
She took a few breaths and looked Mr. Westbrooke in the eye. “I see you have two books there, Mr. Westbrooke. What have you selected today?” She congratulated herself. Despite the perspiration that had broken out on her upper lip and forehead, she managed to speak like a normal person.
She had actually put two sentences together and did not trip over her words or sound like a squeaking mouse. Nor had she dropped a biscuit in his lap, or dumped tea over his head.
The smile he bestowed on her alarmed her. It was apparent she’d made him happy by simply speaking with him.
Please, no. No, no, no.
He picked up the two books and looked at the covers. “Flatland by Edward Abbot Abbot.” He grinned. “I don’t know why he has two of the same names.” He placed that book back down on the table and read the other one. “A Little Tour of France by Henry James.”
“Oh, Mr. Westbrooke, d-d-did you know M-m-miss Danvers went to s-s-school in France?” Lady Pamela said.
“Yes. Miss Danvers shared that information with me.”
“How very odd that you chose that book,” Lottie said. It could have been a coincidence, but she didn’t think so. “Just as strange as you popping up in Lottie’s bookstore twice in the past week.”
He had the decency to flush. “I’ve always had a great deal of interest in France, actually. And books.” Mr. Westbrooke laid that book on top of the other one. “Now I have a question for you ladies.”
Force of habit had Lottie sitting quite still, almost as if waiting for a blow.
“Y-yes, Mr. W-w-westbrooke?” Pamela sat forward; her pretty face full of curiosity.
“I would love to escort both of you lovely ladies to the Assembly Rooms Saturday evening.”
“Oh, how lovely,” Pamela said. She turned to Lottie. “Isn’t that wonderful, Lottie? We’ve always wanted to go, but never had an escort.”
“Yes. Just lovely.” Lottie glared at Mr. Westbrooke who had the temerity to grin.
Lottie paced her small bedroom thinking of every excuse she could possibly come up with to add to the partially written note, addressed to Mr. Westbrooke, sitting on her desk in the corner of the room.
Whatever had possessed her to agree to attend the Saturday Assembly with Mr. Westbrooke and Pamela? She’d purposefully avoided all social events since her arrival in Bath, except for the occasional trip to the theater with her friends.
She stared at the note and chewed her lower lip. Truthfully, she was so very tired of hiding. She was young and enjoyed all the things a young lady would enjoy. Theater, museums, Assembly dances, strolls in the park, dinner at a fancy restaurant. Perhaps she could never have a suitor since she wasn’t fit for marriage, but she could certainly attend more events than an infrequent night at the theater.
The wedding in London had not resulted in disaster, so perhaps it was time to enjoy a bit of social life. Before she could change her mind, she tore the note into shreds and dropped it into the rubbish. Then dusted her hands off with determination and opened the door to her closet to select a gown for the evening.
She chose a deep green satin with black trim that she’d worn to a ball in France. The bodice was a modest cut with a row of black lace edging. The fabric was snug against her waist and tummy and gathered in the back in a slight bustle.
Her black slippers that matched the lace on the gown were still in perfect shape, a reminder that she had attended that ball as a teacher and chaperone, so had not danced.
She managed to wrestle her dark brown curls into a simple topknot with a few strands resting on her neck and at the sides of her face. A sweet little matching green hat with black netting sat on top of her head, nothing more than a decoration.
Quite satisfied with how she looked, she picked up her cloak and waited in the parlor for Mr. Westbrooke to arrive.
Within minutes, she heard the sound of carriage wheels and then a slight knock on her front door. She opened the door and her breath caught. He looked dashing. Why did he have to be so charming and handsome?
He extended his elbow. “Are you ready, Miss Danvers?”
She contemplated chastising him for the way he’d maneuvered her into attending the Assembly by asking Pamela. But then decided to allow him this one sneaky ploy.
“Yes, Mr. Westbrooke. I am ready.”
Lottie had to admit she was enjoying the excitement of arriving at the Assembly Rooms. She’d never seen them before and was quite taken with the glimpse she’d gotten of lovely pale blue walls, white trim, and numerous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The room was three or four times the size of her entire flat.
They handed off their coats to a man stationed at the door, then taking a deep breath, Lottie took Mr. Westbrooke’s arm. He extended his other elbow to Pamela, and the three of them entered the room.
It was like a fairyland from a child’s book. The women were all dressed in lovely evening gowns of various colors. Deep blue, red, green, and gold gowns flashed by as the dancers swayed and dipped to a waltz. Every sort of fabric was represented, too. Satin, silk, fur-lined collars of light wool gowns, and even a few velvets.
The gentlemen were as well turned out as the ladies. Dark trousers, stark white shirts, colorful waistcoats, and well-tied ascots, all covered with dark jackets. She watched the dancers for a while, noting none of the gentlemen were as handsome as Mr. Westbrooke.
He bent toward Lottie’s ear, the warm scent of his bath soap tickling her nose. “I take it since you teach young ladies how to move about in Society that you are an excellent dancer.”
Lottie loved to dance. In France, she had been allowed to attend a few events as a guest and not just a chaperone and enjoyed the dancing so much she even wore out a pair of slippers one time. “I don’t know that I am an excellent dancer, but certainly an enthusiastic one.”
“Ah. Modesty on top of all your other qualities.” He grinned, the light from the chandeliers reflected in his eyes. Her heart took an extra beat and the smile she intended to give him faltered. She did not know what to make of the effect he was having on her.
The music ended and the dancers scattered from the middle of the floor. Some to join friends on the side, some to avail themselves of the refreshments at the long table on the south wall of the room.
“Westbrooke. Why is it you always end up with the most beautiful ladies in the room?” A tall, slender man slapped Mr. Westbrooke on the back and stared at the two women, with a particular interest in Pamela. “Do I get an introduction?”
Mr. Westbrooke turned to her and Pamela. “Ladies, may I make known to you, Mr. Nicholas Smith.” He gestured toward the man. “Smith, this is Lady Pamela and Miss Danvers.”
They both gave a slight dip and Mr. Smith bowed. “I will certainly be happy to take one of these lovely ladies off your hands, Westbrooke.” He turned to Pamela. “May I request a dance, Lady Pamela?”
“Y-y-yes. That w-would be f-f-ine.” Pamela’s blushed rose from the top of her bodice to her hairline. Yet, she was speaking to a stranger and agreeing to a dance. It seemed to Lottie that the two of them were facing their demons tonight.
She swore Mr. Westbrooke had tensed when Mr. Smith mentioned taking one of them off his hands and then visibly relaxed once he chose Pamela.
The four of them chatted about the usual things, England’s weather, parliament’s latest blunder and the horrible condition of the roads. Mr. Smith was a pleasant man, of average looks, but with the way of smiling that transformed his face into something much more attractive. And he seemed to be doing a great deal of smiling in Pamela’s direction.
The Master of Ceremonies announced the next dance, a quadrille, which had Lottie already tapping her feet before the music even began.
“It appears you are anxious to join the others on the dance floor,” Mr. Westbrooke said. He took Lottie’s arm and moved them to the end of a line of dancers. Mr. Smith and Pamela were right behind them and took the positions next to them.
It was a lively dance, and Lottie was pleased to discover that Mr. Westbrooke was a wonderful dancer. The intricacies of the steps didn’t allow for much conversation, but she found herself smiling quite a bit.
And Mr. Westbrooke smiling right back.
She took a deep breath as the number ended. “That was fun.” She realized as soon as the words were out that it had been quite some time since she uttered those particular words. It had, indeed, been fun, and she was quite happy with her decision to come to the dance.
He took Lottie’s arm. “I believe a bit of liquid refreshment would be just the thing right about now.”
When they reached the refreshment table, Lottie realized that Mr. Smith and Pamela had not followed them but were in conversation with three other people. Lottie could tell by Pamela’s stance that she was uncomfortable.
“Perhaps I should rescue Lady Pamela from that group,” Lottie said as she accepted a cup of lemonade from Mr. Westbrooke.
He glanced over at Mr. Smith. “I think she is doing all right. Smith can make anyone relax. He owns a very successful gambling club and can talk a miser out of his coins. I won’t tell you how successful he is with the ladies because that will only send you off in Lady Pamela’s direction. But be at ease, he would never do anything improper with an innocent young lady.” He took the empty glass from Lottie’s hand and placed it on the table. “Let’s take a stroll. You worry too much about your friend.”
They’d gone about half the room when two gentlemen approached them. Lottie immediately stiffened at the look on their faces. Nothing threatening, but a bit too . . . hungry was the only word that fit.
Mr. Westbrooke must have sensed it because he covered her hand on his arm and gave it a slight squeeze.
“Westbrooke, are you going to introduce us to the lady?”
Mr. Westbrooke hesitated slightly and then said, “Miss Danvers, may I present Lord Sterling and Mr. Clancy. Gentleman this is Miss Danvers.”
“I say, Miss Danvers, you do look familiar.” Lord Sterling took her hand and kissed the air above it and studied her a bit too closely for her comfort. “Do you spend much time in London?”
“No. Not at all.” She withdrew her hand from his and placed it behind her back. She knew she sounded breathless and wanted more than anything to race from the room and return home. She turned to Mr. Westbrooke. “I think I would enjoy a cup of lemonade.”
He gave no indication that they had just had a glass but instead nodded to the two men. “If you will excuse us.”
“Wait just a minute, Westbrooke. We’re not going to let you hog this beauty all night.” Lord Sterling looked in her direction. “May I request a dance, Miss Danvers.”
“And I as well.” Mr. Clancy smiled brightly, and she broke into a sweat. Oh, God, what was she to do now? Lord Sterling thought she looked familiar and she knew why. If she spent any time with him, he would surely make the connection.
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I am feeling quite lightheaded. I think it’s the heat in here.” She turned and gave Mr. Westbrooke a pleading look.
He returned a warm smile then turned toward the two men. “Some other time, Sterling. I think I will escort Miss Danvers outside for a bit of air.”
“Yes. A bit of air is probably best for the young lady. We will accompany you,” Mr. Clancy said.
There was nothing to be done for it. If she insisted they not join her, it would cause too much attention and that was the last thing she wanted. “Very well.”
The four of them made their way to the French doors that led to a gravel pathway. Lottie turned to see Pamela dancing with another gentleman. She didn’t look at all distressed, so Lottie assumed she didn’t have to worry about her friend. What she did notice was that Mr. Smith didn’t look pleased at all as he watched Pamela and her partner.
Lottie only had to worry about herself and this man who thought she looked familiar.