Three
Aramintahad to escape inside. Her humiliating tumble would be the talk of Woodhaven. Papa might even insist she get rid of SirWaddlesby or—God forbid—cook him, as Mrs. Clarke had so rudely propounded.
No. No.
Aramintacould not even begin to contemplate such a horror.
Howcould she eat her pet?
Granted, he had been intended for Christmas supper when Mr. Delbert had gifted the reverend the gosling three years ago. Naturally, the care of the young gander had fallen to Araminta. Since her mother’s death five years ago, Araminta had overseen the parish and household duties, except for Papa’s weekly sermons, of course.
Shecouldn’t help falling in love with the gander, who did quite behave like a cheeky puppy. Araminta adored SirWaddlesby, and he was a most loyal and loving pet, even if he tended to get into mishaps on an almost daily basis.
Thebegging and pleading she’d undertaken to convince Papa not to eat SirWaddlesby had been most persuasive. Thankfully, her father had finally conceded to her wishes. The family had enjoyed a rather skinny chicken that Christmas instead.
Insidethe bookstore, Araminta inhaled deeply, relishing the aroma of beeswax, leather, new books, and coffee.
SirWaddlesby hummed against her chest—his way of expressing contentment.
Hewasn’t an utter nuisance.
Heate slugs and kept stray cats away from the garden beds; no better watchdog could she ask for. Nevertheless, the goose’s obsession with gloves had caused more than one fracas. After this latest fiasco, if Papa didn’t insist on exiling SirWaddlesby, he would most likely demand confining the goose to a pen.
Holdinghim close, Araminta shuddered at the notion.
Hummingto herself, she glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of DariusWestbrook entering his establishment. She swiftly pretended absorption in the thoughtfully organized and cheerful interior.
Aglossy counter and a coal stove dominated one side of the L-shaped main room. The light from the windows streamed onto angled rows of bookshelves, some partially lined with crisp new books. Several comfortable chairs and sofas, arranged in cozy sections, invited readers to explore the books at their leisure.
Thoughnot ready for customers yet, the bookshop was taking shape.
Araminta’shalf-boots clicked on the parquet floor as she ventured farther inside. Still humming, she continued her exploration.
SirWaddlesby hummed in contentment too.
Theymade a ridiculous duo, but she didn’t give a flying fig.
Theentire back area of the bookstore remained vacant still.
Howwonderful and most opportune.
Aperfect place to tuck a small lending library.
Apeek into the largest adjacent room revealed the coffeehouse section of the establishment. Sleek square walnut tables and chairs filled the room’s center, and several alcoves contained additional overstuffed chairs, side tables, and small sofas.
Astaircase at the far side led to an upper floor.
Nodoubt the living quarters, which, given the size of the main floor, were quite extensive.
Obviously, a great deal of thought and planning had gone into the bookstore and coffeehouse’s design. Though unfinished, the tastefully decorated establishment exuded a welcome and charming air.
Whata marvelous addition to Woodhaven.
Aramintatried not to think about her rather embarrassing introduction to LordDariusWestbrook.
Howwas she to know SirWaddlesby would careen into LordDarius’s ladder?
Itwasn’t the first time her dear goose had gotten her into a scrape, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She heaved a deep sigh and kissed the top of SirWaddlesby’s head.
What’s done is done.
Besides, she was far more interested in LordDarius’s delightful bookshop than in reliving her earlier mortification.
Atleast, she thought she’d crashed into the twin who owned the bookshop. Then again, she couldn’t be positive. Unlike her twin sisters, Laurella and Callidora, the Westbrook brothers resembled one another so greatly it was difficult to tell them apart.
Hermuch younger sisters were as different as night and day. Laurella possessed Papa’s chestnut hair and brown eyes, while Callidora had Mama’s blonde hair and green eyes, as did Araminta.
Aramintahad planned on calling at LordDarius’s establishment prior to the grand opening and requesting permission to use a shelf or two as a lending library. She also hoped to ensure LordDarius carried MadamQuillheart’s books.
Notonly did Quillheart garner fame for writing novels featuring scandalously romantic stories, but her books also continued to gain popularity—which secretly brought joy and pride to Araminta, who, in fact, was MadamQuillheart.
Aramintabit back a smile as she patted SirWaddlesby’s silky feathers. No one, not even dearest Papa or her sisters, knew that she was a published author who wrote under the Quillheart nom de plume.
Papawould have an apoplexy if he ever found out. As the rector of SaintAndrew’s, her father considered himself the moral compass of Woodhaven.
The shame. The sin.
Hisdaughter writing such scandalous twaddle.
Lord above.
However, that scandalous twaddle generated a tidy income, thank you very much.
Papastill believed the sale of her embroidery work provided the occasional joint of ham for dinner, the Cheshire cheese he liked so much, the fine port he indulged in, and the LondonWeeklyTimes.
Lordknew the funds didn’t come from the so-called generous offerings collected every Sunday.
Aramintaalmost scoffed aloud but settled for the slightest skewing of her upper lip.
Howabsurd that several of the community’s loftiest members, who perched so regally upon their pews every week, adorned in their Sunday finest, regularly pointed out others’ supposed sins while presenting themselves as the most virtuous of congregants. They were, by far, the stingiest people who held tightest to their purse strings.
Mrs. Clarke’s dour visage sprang to mind.
Aproverbial miserly hypocrite if ever there was one.
Theonly thing Mrs. Clarke ever offered was unsolicited advice and constant condemnation.
Papawould be even more shocked if he knew Mama had encouraged Araminta’s writing.
Lookingback, Araminta understood that her beloved mother must’ve known for quite some time that she was not long for this world. She never quite recovered from Laurella’s and Callidora’s births and had passed from this world when the twins were but five-years-old. At nineteen, Araminta had become a surrogate mother to her sisters.
Nevertheless, JaneWeldon had done everything within her limited means to help ensure their family had financial security by imparting her talent for embroidery to Araminta and, more importantly, by encouraging her daughter to submit her books for publication. Mama had even helped Araminta choose MadamQuillheart as her nom de plume.
Thegiggles they’d shared coming up with the pen name.
Stingingtears misted Araminta’s eyes, but she blinked them away.
“MissWeldon, I haven’t opened to the public yet,” LordDarius said from behind her.
“Please forgive my intrusiveness, my lord.”
Anopportunity had fallen into her lap, and she couldn’t waste it.
Swiftlyblinking away the moisture pooling in her eyes, she shifted the hefty goose to her other hip. Pasting a bright smile on her face, she turned to face the handsome bookshop owner.
“You are LordDariusWestbrook, the proprietor?”
“I am.” He began unpacking books from a wooden box and setting them on a nearby shelf.
Aramintacouldn’t help but notice how his shirtsleeves and silver and black jacquard waistcoat stretched over his taut muscles as he moved.
Ofcourse, she already knew who he was.
Histall form, dark hair, and navy blue eyes had drawn her attention at church since the first day he’d attended.
Aramintaalso accepted he had no idea who she was.
Shewasn’t feeling sorry for herself. It was the truth. Tall, slender, fair, and without a single new gown to her name, she couldn’t compare or compete with MissEudoraClarke’s sable-haired loveliness.
Thepampered and spoiled beauty’s lushly rounded figure and lavishly styled gowns had gained her another admirer—just like many other smitten, eligible bachelors in the area. What a shame that men were such shallow creatures and didn’t realize Eudora’s charms were only skin deep.
Still, it wasn’t for Araminta to inform LordDarius of Eudora’s shortcomings.
Howcould she do so without sounding petty and jealous?
Nevermind that she’d been on the receiving end of Eudora’s unkindness for years and had first-hand knowledge of the soul-deep meanness that fetching smile concealed.
LordDarius lifted a full crate of books onto another crate, and Araminta found herself mesmerized once again, this time by the bulging muscles in his forearms.
Get on with it.
Shecleared her throat.
“I promise I shall leave you to your work directly, but I have a proposition for you.” At least her gumption hadn’t completely deserted her despite the embarrassing fiasco that initiated their meeting.
Hecocked a raven eyebrow in askance. “Oh? And what might that be?”
Aramintacouldn’t blame him for his reticence. She hadn’t exactly been at her best when she knocked him from the ladder in front of half the township, including Eudora and Mrs. Clarke.
Eudoracouldn’t quite conceal her gloating at Araminta’s humiliating mishap, but LordDarius hadn’t seemed to notice. Or maybe he had and didn’t care.
Thatthought didn’t sit well in her belly.
Ifonly Araminta could relive the last half hour.
Theday had begun innocently enough. She’d put bread on to rise and spent an hour in the garden. Her shabby work gown smudged with dirt, she had just entered the parish kitchen to put the bread on to bake. Arms full of firewood, she’d left the door agape, and SirWaddlesby had seized the opportunity.
He’dsnatched Mrs. Tenney’s newly finished glove off the table and tore off like the hounds of hell chased him. Araminta had spent a fortnight embroidering the gloves, and Mrs. Tenney was supposed to take delivery of them tomorrow.
Naturally, Araminta had no choice but to chase her errant goose through town.
“Yes, MissWeldon. I confess. You have stirred my curiosity as well.” LordDarius’s equally handsome twin brother sauntered over and leaned a shoulder against the same bookshelf LordDarius stacked books on.
Aramintaexamined the brothers, studying every element of their countenances. Hmm. She tapped her chin with her index finger, contemplating their identical features. And yet… “Ah. Yes. NowI see the difference.”
Thebrothers exchanged flabbergasted glances.
“You do?” the unnamed Westbrook twin asked. “We used to switch places when we were boys, and not even our parents could tell.”
LordDarius’s skeptical glance spoke for him.
Hedidn’t believe her.
Well, Araminta would prove it then.
Shegave a firm nod. “I do.”
ShiftingSirWaddlesby once more, Araminta wagged her finger at LordDarius. “You have more pronounced grooves around your mouth, LordDarius.”
Sheangled her finger toward the other twin.
“While you have deeper creases across your forehead, my lord.” Cocking her head, she smiled. “I would venture that LordDarius is the more precocious, jolly, and daring twin, while you, my lord, are the more serious, sensitive, and practical.”
LordDarius’s brother’s jaw dropped.
“ByGod, Dare, she pegged us. Spot on.”
Aramintashrugged, then tilted her head. “I have younger twin sisters. One is more gregarious and the other more demure. A common occurrence, I dare say.”
Thelaugh lines bracketing LordDarius’s firm mouth and the slight furrows creasing his twin’s forehead provided a convenient way to tell them apart. Her attention lingered on LordDarius’s mouth for a moment—lips just the right fullness.
Nottoo thick or thin and not moist and slobbery. UnlikeClarenceButton who always had wet lips and was forever trying to steal a kiss from her.
Aramintacouldn’t prevent the shudder that rippled across her shoulders at the recollection of Clarence and his grasping hands.
“MightI ask what your name is, sir?” She spoke to the as-yet-unnamed twin.
Howvery forward of her. Still, the men had been rather lax about introductions.
Thetwin bent into a courtier’s bow as LordDarius returned to placing books on the shelf.
“LordCassiusWestbrook, at your service.”
“Yes, of course. Your father is the Duke of Latham.” Heavens, her arms ached. SirWaddlesby needed to go on a reducing diet. “That makes addressing you easy, then. LordCassius and LordDarius, I am AramintaWeldon, the eldest daughter of ReverendZebedeeWeldon.”
“What is this proposal you mentioned, MissWeldon?” LordCassius asked, giving his brother a rather gloating glance.
Shesucked in a bracing breath. “I propose a quiet corner in the bookshop to operate a lending library. Many people in Woodhaven and the surrounding area cannot afford to buy books, yet love them just the same. I could bring my library here and occasionally purchase new volumes to lend to patrons.”
Onlyrarely.
Fundsremained tight even when she received her quarterly royalties.
“A grand idea.” Cassius clapped his hands. “What say you, Darius?”
LordDarius had turned to study her. His intense scrutiny in the bright room made her nervous. Even if he said no, she wouldn’t quit trying. Everyone deserved a chance to read, not just those who could afford to purchase books.
“I think…the idea…has merit.” Speaking slowly, he shifted his attention to his twin.
Agrin splitting his handsome face, LordCassius nodded. “I’d wager Mother and Father have several volumes at HefferwickshireHouse that they would be happy to donate.”
“Really?” Such a wave of relief engulfed Araminta that she almost dropped SirWaddlesby. He released an indignant honk, and she set him on the floor. After withdrawing a length of string from her other pocket, she tied it to his collar.
“I am so grateful, my lords. When may I call upon you to discuss the details?”
“Tomorrow. Come for tea,” LordCassius answered before his brother had a chance to. “No sense wasting time. We’ll need to organize a suitable area for you before the grand opening.”
“Indeed.” No enthusiasm riddled LordDarius’s droll response. “Can you bring a list of your current collection? We’ll need to discuss your hours of operation and how you will prevent patrons from walking out with books that are for sale.”
“Of course.” Giving an eager dip of her chin, Araminta angled toward the door. She must get home. She’d been gone far too long as it was. The rising bread likely had spilled over the bowl by now. Papa and the twins would want luncheon. “What time shall I call tomorrow?”
Ithad been so easy.
LordDarius was a good sort—not at all what she’d expected from a duke’s son.
Shehad been prepared to present her case, beg, cajole, and plead on behalf of those who loved reading and books but had little money to afford them.
“Four o’clock.” LordDarius picked up another stack of books. “Oh, and MissWeldon?”
Sheturned back. “Yes?”
“Leave your goose at home.” He gave SirWaddlesby a pointed look. “I don’t want goose excrement on my new floors.”
“Oh, he’s trained. He only goes outside.”
Doubtdrew his lordship’s firm mouth downward.
“Nevertheless, this is an establishment for humans—not glove-stealing, impertinent geese.” LordDarius hadn’t forgiven SirWaddlesby’s bad manners, it seemed.
Asif sensing he was being discussed in unflattering terms, SirWaddlesby raised his head and let out a displeased honk.
“Of course, my lord,” Araminta quickly agreed. “He’ll remain at home.”
Hopefully.
Onceoutside, she couldn’t prevent her triumphant smile. It quickly faded as LordDarius’s harshly uttered words carried out the open door to her.
“Why did you do that, Cassius? Of all the bloody hair-brained ideas. I have enough to do to prepare for the grand opening. Now you’ve saddled me with a provincial chit’s idealistic dreams for bettering mankind.”
Disappointmentsluiced Araminta, stealing her previous joy.
LordDarius toppled off the pedestal she’d placed him on.
She’dnot make that mistake again.