Chapter Four
Chandler’s Books and Periodicals
Mayfair, London
Penny nodded to Mr. Chandler as she came into the bookshop that morning.
Then she smiled at Mrs. Chandler, who came out of the back room to bring her husband his typical mid-morning cup of tea and two jam cakes on his saucer.
It was a dear little tradition the two had probably indulged in every day over the course of their nearly forty-year union.
I wish I’d had that in my own.
Those little acts of love would have gone a much longer way in winning over her affection—possibly love—instead of being gifted parures of jewelry, expensive clothing made of sumptuous fabrics, or having yet another piece of art installed at one of the properties.
Much of which she didn’t inherit anyway. They’d gone to Weymouth’s brother.
“Good morning, dear. I trust you enjoyed a lovely night?” Mrs. Chandler, with her mostly graying blonde hair and her soulful, blue eyes, smiled and immediately put Penny at ease.
“As a matter of fact, I did. It was one of the most relaxing I’ve had in a while.
” Which had been odd. For the past six months, she’d done nothing but prepare Weymouth’s properties and staff for the new marquess.
“My brother took me home; dinner was waiting for me thanks to my excellent staff. Then I had tea in bed with a good book.”
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason, she’d wager.
It had been that dratted kiss from Major Montogomery shortly before closing last night.
Though he’d been everything lovely and solicitous, there had also been air of curiosity and scandal about him that even now sent awareness shivering over her skin.
Mr. Chandler chuckled. His bald pate fringed with gray hair gleamed in the weak, February sunlight shining into the shop through the front window. “You only need a cat.” The sound of his voice yanked her from her thoughts.
“Or a man,” his wife said, with a wink and a broad grin.
“Ha! Our Lady Weymouth? She’s far too independent,” he said, with an equally broad grin. “There’s not a man out there who can take her on long enough to marry. She’s grown a backbone since we’ve known her, don’t you think?”
“Oh, you dear man. I said nothing about wedding,” Mrs. Chandler responded with another wink. “Penny has already had a husband. She should at least have fun now.”
The owner peered at his wife over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. “What makes you think she didn’t have fun?”
Mrs. Chandler chuckled. “If she were and her husband had been worth his salt in all the ways that mattered, she wouldn’t have taken a position here which keeps her away from home three days out of the week, hmm?”
Before Penny could get in a word, Mr. Chandler set his cup and saucer on the wooden counter with a speaking glance at his wife. “But anything else is rife with scandal.”
“A bit of scandal every now and again isn’t going to hurt anyone.
” Mrs. Chandler bustled over the floor. She then flipped the hand-lettered card in the front window so that it read “open” from outside.
“But none of this is for us to say. If Penny wishes to have someone in her life, she’ll do so on her own time. Not ours or her mother’s.”
“You two are so sweet.” They were like an additional set of parents she’d never known she needed until she’d met them. “For the time being, I’m perfectly content helping in the bookshop and being surrounded by books.”
Of course, memories of that kiss tumbled about her mind at the inopportune moment. She ignored the lazy heat that rose in her cheeks, for she’d probably not see the major again. At best, he’d only been flirting, which was something he was exceptionally good at, if one went by the rumors.
The older pair shared a speaking glance. Mrs. Chandler looked quite troubled, but it was Mr. Chandler who broke the silence first.
“I have been meaning to talk with you about this bookshop and the future of it,” he said with a bit of a frown.
“Mrs. Chandler and I have bought a lovely cottage in the Cotswolds, to retire there, you see, do a bit of gardening, perhaps get a dog. Been toiling all our lives.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve sold the shop.”
“You have?” All her high spirits from before plummeted. “To whom?”
He shrugged. “Some self-made man who wishes to try his hand at running a bookshop. Connected to a lending library, so he’ll have a stream of books I don’t have access to.”
“Oh.” Penny frowned as she removed her pelisse of a dove-gray sarsenet.
It matched the day dress beneath it. She draped it over the wooden counter.
It was quickly followed by the matching bonnet.
“When will said gentleman take possession of the shop?” Suddenly, the life she thought she’d have, had been yanked from beneath her feet.
“May first,” Mr. Chandler said with a nod. “That’s when we’re moving house to the country. Do a bit of living before we’re dead, you see.”
Mrs. Chandler came over the floor and slipped an arm about Penny’s shoulders. “Don’t fret, dear. And don’t look so sad. You can come out to visit any time. You’re the daughter we never had.”
Her heart trembled, for that was a lovely compliment.
“Except you didn’t give the shop to me or even ask if I wished to buy it.
” She pressed her lips together in a frown.
“I’ve been here for years, know every nook and cranny, each book on the shelves.
I can list our customers off by heart. I get on well with the men we buy books, stationery, and other wares from.
Why wouldn’t you consult with me before doing this?
” With every word, her heart cracked, for she adored this little shop.
Without it, she had nothing. Especially since Weymouth’s brother would soon arrive in London to take possession of his family townhouse. Once that occurred, she would have no purpose except existing.
That all sounds horrible.
“Oh, but dear, you are a marchioness. Running a bookshop is well beneath your station,” Mrs. Chandler said with an encouraging nod. “You are meant for better things in this world, I think.”
“What is better than having a bookshop being surrounded by books and all the possibilities therein?” A bit of heated panic rose in Penny’s chest.
“While I agree, you’re still young enough that your mother and brother will see you married to a lovely man, I’ll wager.”
Penny broke away from the other woman. “When will everyone around me discover that I’m capable of making my own decisions? That, for once, I’d like to do what I think is best for me?” She blew out a breath. “That I might not wish to follow what society deems I should do, or think, or be?”
Mr. Chandler cleared his throat. He bounced his gaze between her and his wife.
“I’m sorry, Penny,” he said and there was concern and alarm in his expression.
“It didn’t occur to me to ask you about the shop.
I only thought that it would be the gentle urge you needed to put yourself back into society and get on with your life. ”
Though she wanted to be enraged at them, at everything, she simply couldn’t because they were the dearest people she knew.
With a sigh, she bussed Mrs. Chandler’s cheek and gave her a hug.
“Think nothing of it. Perhaps it was a hopeless dream of mine.” Because what else was there besides marrying a second time?
If she wished to be a mother, that was the only way it could happen.
“I would be delighted to visit you in the country.”
“Good, good.” Mr. Chandler nodded, then took a sip of his tea. “There are still two and a half months here. We’ll make them the best. Don’t you fret.”
“You are no doubt right.” She gathered her outerwear and then went into the back room to hang them on one of the wooden pegs in the wall. It had been a foolish dream after all. Yet why were all her dreams so unattainable?
*
An hour before teatime, the Chandlers retired upstairs to their private rooms above the bookshop, which meant they would both have their customary nap then enjoy tea afterward.
This afforded Penny at least two and a half hours alone by herself in the shop, perhaps three if they slept over their regular naptime, or more if they had errands afterward.
A few customers had come into the shop in the owners’ absence, but Penny had assisted them in finding what they’d needed.
Then the bell tinkled as the door opened again, and when she glanced up from a ledger book where she wrote the titles of the books she’d sold, she tamped on the urge to gasp, for Major Montgomery came into the space, looking for all the world as if he had mischief on his mind.
“Oh, Major, back so soon?” That was quite surprising, for after the kiss the night before, she thought she’d made her answer clear.
“I am.” He nodded, and there was such an intensity to his brown eyes that she gave into a shiver as awareness crept over her. “I thought to do a more thorough browse of the shop now that daylight has arrived. Just to make certain you have nothing to offer.”
“Ah.” Not wishing to have him trap her behind the counter as he’d done last night, she quickly scuttled around it toward one of the shelves. “Where can I direct your attention, then? There are many different subjects we have available in the shop.”
“While I appreciate that, the subject I am interested in is a bit rare and elusive.” As he spoke, he stalked her with determined steps despite his use of a cane, and once again, the determined set of his face set her heartbeat accelerating.
Did he talk about her? Not knowing, Penny popped behind the first shelf, yet he followed her, tracking her as if he were a large jungle cat and she, his prey.
“That might be difficult to find, and I’m not certain it’s available in this shop.” When he continued to prowl, she retreated around the second shelf.
“I don’t mind exploring or digging deep if I have to.” As he chuckled, frissons of both alarm and need twisted down her spine.
What the devil is wrong with me?