14. Two Ices, One Surprise
Chapter Fourteen
Two Ices, One Surprise
Later that day near the Temple of the Muses
His gaze unfocused as his town coach lumbered through the streets of London towards Finsbury Square, Matthew replayed his first meeting with Catherine in his mind.
He had done so several times the night before, which had had him tossing and turning in his bed until he’d been forced to take his member in hand.
The release he had experienced whilst imagining her beneath him, her legs spread wide, her breasts bared and nipples taut, had been the most pleasure he had experienced since his days at university.
None of those encounters had been as satisfactory, though. None of them had left him feeling sated or particularly happy. Last night had been a wonder.
There had been that one moment in the bookshop when he was sure Catherine Kingston expected him to kiss her, if not on her lush lips, then on her cheek. Her hand had felt chilled when he first kissed it upon their meeting, but by the time they parted, it was warm and soft as satin.
He imagined how that hand would feel pressed against his bare skin. How it might feel wrapped around his turgid manhood, her thumb caressing the tip, coaxing him to readiness.
He adjusted his position in the squabs, realizing his manhood was reacting much as it had the night before. He would look the fool if he entered the Temple displaying the horn.
When the coach halted in front of the bookshop, Matthew winced at the thought Catherine might notice the faded coat of arms painted in gold on his coach door. When Cummings opened it, he instructed him to remain standing with the door open and to use his body to block the crest.
“Very good, sir,” the driver replied, his bushy brows furrowed in confusion.
Gathering his greatcoat tighter around his body—the winter chill had increased with each passing hour that day—Matthew hurried off to the front door of the establishment.
Once he was inside, he glanced around at the various displays, thinking Catherine might be waiting for him.
About to head for the set of stairs leading to the reading rooms, he inhaled sharply upon seeing her descending the steps.
Dressed in an emerald day gown with matching gloves, she carried her mantle over one arm, and a small emerald hat featuring a peacock feather dangled from the other hand. Her hair, styled in a riot of curls atop her head, gleamed red and gold beneath the chandeliers that lit the stair landing.
Swallowing hard, Matthew immediately regretted not having arranged for them to partake in a dinner.
Sharing a meal at a restaurant would have allowed them to remain in one another’s company far longer than sharing an ice at Gunter’s Tea Shop.
Thanks to the banknotes he had discovered, he even had enough funds to cover an extravagant meal with champagne.
Matthew knew the moment Catherine noticed him, for she paused in her descent and nodded in his direction before quickening her steps. She grinned when she saw him tug on his ear.
He bowed deeply and took her hand to his lips.
“Good evening, Mr. Higby,” she said, dipping a curtsy.
“Isn’t it, indeed?” he replied, his voice sounding from far away. He cleared his throat. “I had a thought that I should have invited you to dinner. You must be starving.” He helped with her wrap, glad to see it was heavy wool lined with satin.
“My lady’s maid sent me off with a luncheon this morning,” she replied.
“In a metal snap tin,” she added, lifting her reticule to indicate the tin was inside.
She placed her hat at an angle on her head, quickly securing it by tying the ribbons beneath her chin.
“Despite this weather, I have been looking forward to a bergamot pear ice all day,” she added.
“But if you haven’t yet had your dinner—”
“I shall not deny you your wish,” he said, offering his arm. “Gunter’s will have something for both our appetites.”
She placed her hand on his arm, ignoring the two men at the circular desk who openly gawked at them as they took their leave of the Temple.
“How was your day?” Matthew asked once Catherine was seated in the direction of travel. Although he had been tempted to sit next to her, he didn’t want her feeling uncomfortable and had instead settled onto the opposite bench.
“I made far more progress today than I did yesterday,” she replied brightly. “It seems someone in the past shelved all the books on botany together on the same bookshelf. They only required alphabetizing by author’s last name.”
Matthew chuckled softly. “Botany? You’re referring to plants?”
“I am. Large gardens and conservatories are quite in fashion these days. Seems there are a number of aristocrats and naturalists who collect plants whilst on their travels and attempt to grow them here in England. I think some of the more exotic ones require a greenhouse, though.” She motioned to the window, where snowflakes appeared beyond the glass.
“Otherwise, they would not survive this weather.”
“I believe my mother acquired a rhododendron in that manner,” he said.
“Does she still have it?”
Matthew blinked. “Well, she doesn’t, since she died many years ago—”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“—but that bush is still growing next to the house in Berkshire. It’s quite large, and the flowers are pink,” he explained.
“My mother has been gone for nearly a decade.”
“I’m sorry for your loss as well,” he replied. “Have you a stepmother?”
Catherine scoffed softly. “Not yet, but my father is courting, so I expect there will be one shortly.”
Matthew gave a start. “You don’t seem pleased.” He noted how she dipped her head before she directed her gaze out one of the windows. The coach lantern illuminated her face in a golden glow, and he was struck by how lovely she appeared despite the conflicting emotions that played across her face.
“I am happy for them both, but their impending marriage is the reason I sought a position at the Temple of the Muses. I’m losing my position in my father’s household, you see,” she explained. “To my best friend.”
Her last words had Matthew wincing. “That must be awkward.”
“Indeed. But I am making the best of it by working with books,” she said, a wan smile appearing to lighten her face.
“Arranging them by subject and by author’s last name.
I would catalogue them as well, but I was told that’s only required at the lending libraries.
I think the clerks must keep track of them somehow, though.
They’re advertised in a catalogue for buyers, so they must know what they have so they can fill the orders. ”
Matthew thought of the note another caddie had delivered earlier that afternoon.
Once again, Chessings had been vexed that a street urchin would come to the front door, but the boy wasn’t the least bit apologetic as he insisted the missive be given directly to Lord Wingfield and not to any servant.
He was willing to wait if necessary, especially if he there might be a mug of saloop involved.
“He ’as to read it ’afore he meets his lady for ices,” the boy had insisted.
Matthew had to suppress a laugh as he listened from his study. Then he realized exactly what the boy had said and quickly sobered.
How did a caddy know Matthew was taking Miss Kingston to Gunter’s Tea Shop later that day?
Emerging from his study to confront the young boy, he asked, “What is your name, and how is it you know my business?” He took the note from the boy’s grubby hand.
“Teddy, my lord, and they was Titan’s instructions,” he said as he pointed a stubby finger at the folded note. “Said you’d want ta’ know before ya’ meet your lady for ices,” he repeated.
“How…?” Matthew clamped his mouth shut. The only other person who knew he was to fetch Catherine for a trip to Gunter’s Tea Shop was Catherine.
“Titan has ’is ways, my lord, as does Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” Teddy claimed. “G’afternoon, my lord.”
Matthew watched as the caddy raced off before he turned to discover Chessings regarding him with a questioning gaze. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I am courting a lady, Chessings,” he admitted, deciding the servant should know.
The butler’s eyes had rounded before he resumed his usual staid expression. “Very good, sir.”
Chuckling softly at the reminder of why he had stuffed Titan’s note into his waistcoat pocket, Matthew leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
“Would I be correct in assuming you would prefer to be the proprietress of your own book company?” he asked.
He wouldn’t have known she had a desire to run her own publishing company without Titan’s timely missive.
He also wouldn’t have known the matchmaker had established a timeline for when she expected him to be married. He thought it terribly cheeky of the older woman, but he supposed she was merely anxious to collect her fee.
Catherine gave a start. “Well, I had hoped to inherit my father’s publishing house,” she replied. “But he hasn’t yet committed to the idea. I think he’s still holding out for an heir.”
Matthew angled his head to one side. “May I ask why it is you don’t simply start your own publishing company?” he queried, watching as her eyes widened.
“I… I hadn’t considered the option,” she admitted.
“Might I put forth a proposal?”
She seemed to regard him with suspicion before she finally said, “Go on.”
“If we marry, I would be willing to… to assist you… in the creation of your own publishing company,” he stammered, hoping she wouldn’t think of the offer as a bribe to marry him.
He could hear her soft inhalation of breath the second before the driver’s call of “Whoa!” had the coach suddenly slowing.
“We’re here,” she said, her gaze having gone once again to the glass. Beyond it were the well-lit windows of Gunter’s Tea Shop. Inside, brightly dressed patrons were seated at small round tables, obviously engaged in lively conversation or private discussions.