Chapter Three
Wolcott House
Hanover Square
William wondered if he screamed out his bedroom window, would anyone hear him, and if they did, would it make a difference in his life?
Probably not.
He’d had a meeting with his man-of-affairs around noon, shortly followed by a visit by his solicitor, both regular monthly meetings. Now, he was bored with nothing to do, so he’d rung for his valet to help with changing his clothing.
“Are you going visiting this afternoon, Your Lordship?” his valet, Cooper, asked as he headed into the adjoining dressing room and the clothespress therein.
“I haven’t decided yet. However, I do plan to pick up a new book.”
Cooper harrumphed as he rummaged for a jacket. “You could always send a footman.”
“How would a footman know my reading tastes and moods?”
“There is that.”
God, societal rules were more of a bother than anything else. “Perhaps the bottle green superfine this afternoon. It’ll go well with these tan breeches.”
“Of course.” The valet brought out the requested jacket as well as an ivory and green striped satin waistcoat. “Are you hoping to see someone in particular while out?”
“Not really; I merely wish to appear to advantage in the event I do.” He shrugged, then submitted to the assistance of his valet.
“To be honest, it’s been a while since you’ve had scandal in your life. Perhaps you should work to court a new one, hmm?”
“Yet that is hardly what society would advise.” A grin curled his lips.
“And you always say society and its rules can go hang.” Cooper’s gaze went to William’s close-cropped beard and mustache.
“Frankly, life is short, Your Lordship. Do what you want, but remember, you still must do your duty at some point. Perhaps if the stars align, you can accomplish both at the same time.”
“Ha! I’ll bear that in mind.” Once his toilette was finished, he thanked the groom who brought his curricle around, and with an admiring glance at the pair of matched bays, he threw himself onto the bench, then urged the horses into motion.
As he drove, memories of the dinner at Scarborough’s home last night swam into his mind.
The two eligible women they’d managed to find for him had been almost laughable.
One had a long horse face and a braying laugh to match.
While the other one had been a widow and a few years his junior, but she had been so damned critical and condescending of everyone and everything, he’d been immediately turned off despite her decent looks.
Once the evening had ended, he couldn’t wait to leave. Frankly, he’d been exhausted after that. If those were the types of women left to wed in London, he wanted no part of trying to find one good enough.
After a few other stops—he procured a new cravat, picked up a parcel he’d ordered for his sister since her birthday was coming, and then returned a parure he’d originally bought for his mistress—he didn’t wish to go back home quite yet.
Once he left his curricle in the nearest mews, he sought out a bookshop on foot.
The one he favored was off Fleet Street.
It would be pleasant to have a new volume.
New reading material. Poetry or prose, it mattered not; he only needed something to occupy his mind and provide a distraction.
A tin bell above the door rang cheerfully when he came into the shop.
He nodded to an older man who stood behind a polished wooden counter with a stack of books in front of him then he went to pursue the nearest shelf in the small space.
The only other customer inside was a woman past the first and second blooms of youth.
He barely gave her a passing glance, for she wore a pair of silver rimmed spectacles.
The dismissal might have been premature, for as she moved closer as she perused one of the book shelves, the scent of her perfume wafted to his nose, and he found himself inhaling that ethereal, indescribable scent that put him in mind of angels and something closer to Earth, something intimate and cozy, almost as if skin had a scent.
That was when he turned his head and took her in with his gaze.
Though she was quite petite, perhaps only standing a couple of inches over five feet, she had enough curves to tempt a saint into sinning.
Multiple times. Impossibly blue eyes were slightly magnified behind those lenses, and as he sidled closer under the pretense of searching the stacks, he discerned a smattering of brown, almost golden freckles sprinkled along the tops of her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose.
But it was her décolletage that captured and held his attention.
Of course it was, because he was a rogue and a rake.
Golden freckles lay flung across the skin of her chest. Because she wore a crocheted shawl, he was given a peek of the tops of her full breasts that also featured a collection of freckles, and that was the moment he knew he’d need an introduction.
It didn’t matter who she was, with a form like that and the elusive scent that would haunt him for the remainder of the week, he had to know who she was.
But how to manage it?
Come, Wolcott, you are a connoisseur of women. Surely you can charm her.
On the pretense of browsing the books, William “accidentally” bumped into her arm, and when a soft gasp left her throat, he sprang back with a false apology.
“Good heavens, how careless of me.” Easily, he retrieved the book from the floor that she’d dropped and offered it to her.
“I didn’t mean to crowd you. In fact, I didn’t fully see you there. Carried away by the titles, I suppose.”
“Oh.” Surprise reflected in her eyes behind her lenses. Her gaze slid over his face, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she searched for. “Do you enjoy reading?”
It was an easy answer. “I do. When I can’t escape the crowds or filth of London or the rampant disappointment therein, I turn to books. There is no better escape than into books.”
“I agree.” Her voice of mellifluous, even if she was a tad soft-spoken. There was a specific sparkle in her blue eyes that immediately made her more interesting. “What is your favorite subject?”
Women?
But with a glance at the shop owner who was busy inspecting the books before him, William shrugged.
He focused his attention on the woman in front of him and said aloud, “What isn’t?
I have interests in many things.” When he offered her a grin designed to disarm, and she returned it, hot lust streaked through his shaft.
God, but he wanted to know this woman far deeper than this ordinary meeting.
“By the by, I’m the Earl of Wolcott, or William, if you’d rather.
” That was flirting with what was proper, but he didn’t care.
There was something about her he needed to know more about, and if that happened between the sheets, all the better.
“An earl.” Shocked was infused into the surprised whisper.
“Oh, goodness.” A blush colored her cheeks as she clutched the book to her chest. “I’m Miss Primrose.
Viscount Lambertson’s youngest daughter.
” She glanced about the shop, seemed almost guilty.
“My maid should be along shortly. I sent her on a couple of errands….”
“Ah.” Interesting. Was she nervous about being alone in a man’s presence? Did that mean she was yet an innocent? That fascinated him even more, which was odd, for he made it a point not to dally with women who had no experience. “Well, Miss Primrose, I shall leave you to your browsing.”
Her expression fell a bit. “There is no need to scurry off, my lord.”
“Hmm.” Sending another glance at the proprietor, who examined a stack of books behind a polished wooden counter at the other side of the room, he nodded before concentrating on Miss Primrose. He couldn’t pass up this odd boon. “What are your favorite subjects?”
“Oh, perhaps thrilling stories, or ones that offer romance.” With a gloved forefinger, she pushed her spectacles onto the bridge of her nose.
“I adore fairy tales because they offer hope and even inspiration at times, but I also enjoy scandalous journals or traveler accounts of journeys around the world.”
“Ah, wonderful topics, all. Is travel something you are interested in?”
“Yes, of course, but unless something changes in my life, I don’t see how that will ever be possible.” Her nearly full lips pulled into a frown. “Papa says he’s tired of spending coin on me when I remain unmatched.”
Another interesting tidbit. “Understandable.” How did a woman attain her age without taking during Seasons?
From what he remembered of her father, he had three older children.
The girls were married and the son was due to speak vows next month.
And more to the point, how the devil could he coax a kiss out of her without causing a huge gossip thread?
“Getting back to books, I am looking for one of poetry or prose that flirts with the edge of scandal. Have you seen anything like that in this shop?”
“Oh…” Another blush filled her cheeks, and it was quite fascinating. “I’m not certain I’ve come across anything of the sort, my lord. I would have remembered.”
“I see.” As they spoke, William urged her toward the edge of the shelf, trapped her between it and his body.
Damn, but she was so soft with curves that fit into his hard angles.
Thankfully, the owner wasn’t paying them any mind, as the whole of his attention was on one of the books on his counter.
“Please, refer to me as Wolcott or William should we find ourselves in private. None of this formal ‘my lord’ stuff.”
Her eyes widened behind the spectacular lenses. “But I barely know you, my… er, William,” she said and as she looked up at him, her lips curved slightly into a smile.
“While that is true, we can certainly fix that.” There was no rational thinking on his part, for he leaned into her, and daring much, he brushed his lips over hers.