Chapter 19
“Mr. Howard, you found the bookshop!” Tilly said, her voice high-pitched and squeaky. She then rose from the seat she had hastily fallen into after that kiss.
Dear Lord, she’d just let a man touch her breasts and loved every second of it. In fact, she’d wanted more. Wanted to feel his skin beneath her hands as she stroked them over his chest.
She shot Ambrose a look and noted he was now standing behind a bookshelf. His eyes were on the man who had just arrived, breaking up their… tryst? That did not seem the right word for what she’d just experienced.
Her body still hummed with the strength of what he’d made her feel. Her breasts felt swollen, and her skin the wrong fit suddenly. She fought the need to touch her mouth. The imprint of his lips would be there for a long time to come, she was sure.
Dear Lord, what would they do now? Surely, they could no longer ignore what just happened between them?
“I did find Lolly’s Bookshop because your directions were precise, my dear Miss Wilson. What I hadn’t expected was the delightful surprise of finding you here, or Lord Talbot.”
She watched Mr. Howard bow and Ambrose move out from behind the bookshelf to do the same. Unlike her, he didn’t appear flustered and was still every inch the gentleman he’d been raised to be.
Unfortunately for Mr. Howard, standing next to Ambrose did not put him in a good light, which annoyed Tilly excessively now that she’d unscrambled her wits and could think clearly.
She did not want to be aware of that man, but it seemed to always be the case, a feeling that had now compounded after what they had just shared.
“I called at your house once more, but you were not there, and your mother told me where to find you,” Mr. Howard said.
“I’m glad you did. There are many wonderful books here,” she lied. In fact, right then, she wished he’d stayed away so Ambrose could continue what he had been doing to her. Clearly she was a woman of loose morals.
Did he often kiss women?
“What have you found to read up here, Miss Wilson?” Mr. Howard asked.
“Many things,” she said. Tilly wasn’t sure why she didn’t want Mr. Howard to see the book she had opened, but she didn’t. However, it was too late because, as she reached for it, he was there, turning the cover of the book so he could read the title.
Becoming a Trinitarian Christian Master Mason.
“That looks interesting, but it surprises me that a woman would want to study such a thing. To the best of my knowledge, you are not allowed to be a Freemason.”
“I am looking at these for my father,” Tilly said, improvising.
She could feel Ambrose standing there watching them.
The weight of his gaze was burning into her spine.
Will I always be aware of this man? What about when he is married?
That thought settled in her belly like lumpy porridge.
She’d just kissed and allowed a man who would marry another to touch her breast. He can never marry you even if he wished to, she reminded herself.
“Do you know anything about Freemasons or Societas Rosicruciana, Howard?” Ambrose asked. The words didn’t exactly come out as a demand, but it was a near thing.
“Not a great deal. I had an uncle who was a Freemason. I remember him mentioning odd handshakes and a few other things, but I’ve not heard of Societas Rosicruciana, sorry.”
Mr. Howard was a genuinely nice man, Tilly thought, but she felt nothing when she looked at him. There was no little spike of excitement, let alone a burning need, but then perhaps that was a good thing.
She wasn’t sure after that kiss if she could handle too much passion. Surely a man that kissed like that could get a woman to do what he wished? Or was it only Ambrose who could make Tilly respond as she just had?
“What interest has your father in this, Miss Wilson?” Mr. Howard asked.
“Well, as to that—”
“Howard, I believe you have an excellent eye when it comes to horses,” Ambrose said, cutting her off.
Mr. Howard smiled. “I would not say excellent, but it is definitely passable.”
While the men discussed horses, Tilly stacked the books she wished to purchase. She needed to leave and get away from Ambrose so she could think clearly again. Think about that kiss.
“Is your maid waiting for you downstairs, Miss Wilson?” Mr. Howard enquired when he noted she was preparing to leave.
“My maid is not with me today as she is unwell. I am also past the age of needing a constant companion, sir.”
Mr. Howard clearly wanted to say something else about that, but unlike the man at his side, he refrained, which should have made her like him a great deal more.
Ambrose snorted. “Apparently the rules that other young ladies follow do not apply to Miss Wilson,” he said.
“Oh, do shut up,” Tilly snapped, much to the shock of Mr. Howard. She then walked around them both and back down the stairs to the counter.
“You will take all three of these, Miss Wilson?” Mrs. Lolly asked.
“I will, thank you.”
“Allow me to see you to your carriage, Miss Wilson,” Mr. Howard said when she’d paid for her purchases.
“I will find a hackney,” Tilly said.
That shocked the man again.
“Come, I will take you home in my carriage,” Ambrose said.
“She cannot go alone in your carriage, Lord Talbot. Surely you know that is improper?” Mr. Howard said.
“I think we’ve established Miss Wilson does not give a fig about society or its rules. So I shall take her home. Good day, Mr. Howard,” Ambrose said.
The man did not want to leave, but a lord had told him to, so he did.
“Good day to you both, and I shall see you this evening, Miss Wilson. If you could put me on your dance card, I would be grateful,” he said.
“I will put you down for two waltzes,” she said to annoy Ambrose. But would it annoy him? She couldn’t be certain of that.
“That man has clearly shown an interest in you, Tilly, so don’t lead him on,” Ambrose said when Mr. Howard had left.
The words shocked her so much, her mouth actually fell open.
Regaining her wits, she said, “You have no say in anything I do or say simply because you amused yourself by kissing… and… ah, doing the other thing with me.” She picked up her books after that pathetic speech, and before he could reply, ran out through the door and straight into Mr. Greedy.
“Miss Wilson, are you all right?”
“Mr. Greedy. How fortuitous. Please enter Lolly’s Bookshop and help Lord Talbot. His head is paining him terribly, and he is refusing any help to alleviate it. You could convince him, I am sure.”
“I will at once.”
Tilly ran on then, down the narrow lane until she reached the last shop on her right. Stepping inside, she closed the door quickly. She hoped Ambrose had not seen the direction she had taken and that Mr. Greedy was in fact keeping him occupied.
Please don’t let him follow me.
The scent in the shop hit the back of her throat and made Tilly gag. An assault of rose, bergamot, something sharply citrus, and beneath it all, a musky smell she couldn’t identify. The combination was extraordinary and overwhelming in equal measure.
The elderly man behind the counter addressed her. “Good day to you. Are you wishing to have a scent made?” He had kind eyes and a sweet smile that had her returning the gesture before she looked over her shoulder to check no one had followed her in here.
“I’m just browsing,” she said, taking the handkerchief out of her sleeve as she turned away and pressing it briefly to her nose.
How did the man stand being in here with those scents?
She couldn’t define a single one, as there were so many, layered one upon the other until the air itself felt thick with them.
“If I may suggest, rose is popular, and when combined with orange blossom or vanilla can be quite something,” the man said.
“That does sound wonderful,” Tilly said, moving toward the window and peeking out at the lane beyond again.
There was no sign of Ambrose. Good. She exhaled slowly, relaxing. Well, as much as she could relax after being ravished for the first time in her life. He’d kissed her before, which had been wonderful, but that had been different. It was so much more.
Why did he continue to kiss her when he clearly didn’t like her overly much? In fact, he treated her as an annoyance most of the time. Then there were his words about Mr. Howard. “Do not toy with him.” Tilly could honestly say she’d never been accused of that before.
She left the store twenty minutes later, no clearer as to why Ambrose had kissed her, but sure he’d left the lane, believing himself to be in pursuit of her.
The proprietor had convinced her to order two scents, created in a surprisingly pleasant consultation with the gentleman she now knew was called Mr. Martine, who had turned out to be extraordinarily knowledgeable and not remotely offended when she’d requested something that smelled less like a drawing room and more like old books and autumn air.
He’d genuinely laughed at that, and they’d built something together from sandalwood and dried leaves and just a touch of something green she couldn’t name.
She stepped back out into the lane, feeling almost cheerful.
Almost.
The sky had darkened considerably while she’d been inside, the way London skies sometimes did in the late afternoon when weather rolled in off the river.
The narrow lane felt different now. The bright bustle of midday had dimmed.
There were still people about, but the crowds had thinned considerably.
Tilly adjusted the parcel of books under her arm and started toward a main street where she’d be certain to find a hackney.
She had gone perhaps twenty steps when a feeling settled over her.
It was nothing she could pinpoint after looking around, just a prickling at the nape.
Was she being observed? Tilly took another look, but saw no eyes focused on her.