The Historical Collection 2018: The Duchess Deal / From Duke Till Dawn / His Sinful Touch / His Wicked Charm

It’s better this way, he told himself. Better to hurt her now rather than later.

Right. And if he repeated that balderdash a thousand times, he just might start to believe it.

Chapter Twenty-Two (#ulink_17092a99-2308-5896-bbd7-f2f76ab720fb)

“Here’s another.” Nicola came up for air and added a new book to the towering stack Alexandra was holding for her. She seemed determined to take at least one book from every shelf in Hatchard’s bookshop.

Emma tilted her head and examined the spines. “History of the Thames, Roman architecture, Viennese cookery, mechanical engineering . . . Is there some thread that connects all these?”

“Naturally, there is,” Penny said. “It’s somewhere in the tangle of Nicola’s brain.”

“I heard that,” Nicola called from two shelves down.

Alexandra didn’t lift her head from her reading. She had Nicola’s tilting tower in one arm, and in the other hand she held a single book of her own. Something about stars.

“It was a compliment. You know how I marvel at your intelligence.” Penny leaned against the bookshelves. “Just think, if we could put your brain, my soft heart, Alexandra’s common sense, and Emma’s eye for fashion together to make one woman. We’d be unstoppable.”

Alex used her thumb and teeth to turn a page of her astronomy book. “We’d be a well-dressed woman who spends her days tinkering with clockwork and baking biscuits to feed the forty-three ducks, goats, cows, and hedgehogs crammed in the back garden.”

“Only forty-three?” With a skeptical harrumph, Nicola added another book to the stack in Alexandra’s arm.

This time, however, she’d added one too many. The tower swayed, wobbled, and ultimately crashed to the floor.

Everyone in the shop turned to glare at them in silent censure.

Nicola’s freckled brow knitted as she stared down at the heap of books. “I should have known that would happen. See, this is why I need the books on engineering.”

Alexandra chased after her own book, which had landed a few yards from the rest. After having retrieved it, however, she collided with a gentleman—and this time, both of their books scattered to the floor. She began stammering her apologies at once, even though the gentleman’s back was still turned. When he swung to face her, however—

She went silent.

They all did. None of them could speak.

The man standing before Alexandra must have been the most dangerously handsome gentleman in all of London. Even Emma, foolishly taken as she was with her own husband, could see it.

Well-formed features. Roguish green eyes. Brown hair that misbehaved just the right amount.

The gentleman bowed to Alexandra. “My deepest apologies.”

“N-not at all,” she stammered, blushing. “The fault was entirely mine.”

“Allow me.” He crouched at her feet and retrieved her book from the floor, handing it to her before he went about collecting his own.

Alexandra’s eyes went bright enough to attract moths in daytime.

Nicola paid no attention. She was busy stacking and restacking her books in different combinations, trying to find the sturdiest formation.

Penny’s gloved hand latched on to Emma’s wrist. “He’s flirting with her,” she whispered through unmoving lips.

“I know,” Emma whispered back. Although, to be fair, she suspected he was the sort of man who flirted with every woman he encountered.

“You seem to know something about books,” he said to Alexandra. “Perhaps you could be so good as to lend me your expertise.”

“Surely you don’t need my help.”

“I think I do. You see, I need to purchase some books for a pair of young girls, and I’ve absolutely no idea where to start. What do you think of these?” He showed her the collection he’d amassed, leaning close.

“Oh.” Every bit of Alexandra froze. Even her eyelashes. After several moments, she seemed to recall she was meant to examine his books. “They’re all fairy stories.”

“That seemed the logical place to begin for girls. Which ones do you recommend?”

“Er . . . I don’t know.”

“Well, which were your favorites?”

Alexandra still hadn’t blinked. “I . . . I couldn’t say I . . .”

Emma’s face burned with second-hand embarrassment. Poor Alex.

At length, Alexandra finished her sentence in a whisper. “. . . had any.”

“Well, then.” The gentleman didn’t miss a beat, but continued on as if Alexandra had said something fascinating. Or something at all. “I suppose that means I’ll just have to buy them all, doesn’t it? Don’t know why I didn’t think of it. Thank you, Miss . . .”

“Mount.” A long pause. “Batten. Mountbatten.”

“Miss Mountbatten, I am indebted to you for your kind assistance.” A dashing smile, a gallant bow, and he was gone.

Penny waited all of three seconds before pouncing on poor, flustered Alex. “Why didn’t you talk to him?”

“I didn’t know what to say. When I was a girl, I wanted to read about pirates. I never cared about fairy stories.”

“Well, let me tell you, a great many of them start just that way.” Penny cast a wistful look after the gentleman. “You might have at least asked his name. That could have been the beginning of a romance.”

“A tragic one,” said Nicola. “He’s no doubt a shameless rake.”

“Yes, let’s tell ourselves that,” Emma said.

“Oh, no!” Alex moaned, heedless of their romantic musings. “I can’t believe it. Look.” She held up the book in her hands for their view.

“A Compendium of Stories for Obedient Girls?” Emma read aloud. “Well that sounds dreadful.”

“It is dreadful. The gentleman must have confused my book for one of his. He’s stuck me with fairy stories, and he’s walked away with Messier’s Catalogue of Star Clusters and Nebulae. It could take me months to find another used copy. I can’t afford it new.”

“And that is why you ought to have asked his name,” Penny said.

Emma intervened. “Be gentle with her. Any one of us would have panicked. Including me, and I’m married to an intimidating fellow myself.”

An intimidating, unfeeling, insulting beast of a fellow, to put a finer point on it. She was still smarting after the way he’d rejected the wardrobe. Well, it was what she deserved for putting her heart into it. Someday she might learn to stop throwing that fragile organ under men’s feet.