Page 21 of Marie’s Merry Gentleman (The Bookshop Belles #2)

CHAPTER 20

Lord Ferndale Interferes

O n reaching the ground floor of the bookshop, Marie was delighted to see Ruth assisting Lord Ferndale, who’d come in to peruse their latest titles. The girl was such a shy little wisp of a thing, but she came alive when she was helping people discuss books.

Marie stayed close to the counter and out of the way, as Sebastian approached Ruth and Ferndale, looking at the book Ruth was showing the elderly baron.

Sebastian was giving her space and time to recover from her bruised emotions. She loved him for that. She cared so much for him, even though deep down she was well aware an earl marrying a shopkeeper could never happen. He could never be hers, but she’d handed her heart over willingly anyway. Sitting behind the counter, she feasted her gaze on his dear face, trying to keep her composure. Soon, he’d be gone, and she thought it highly unlikely they would ever meet again. Her heart was breaking at the knowledge.

For the next ten or so minutes, the men became deeply animated about books, especially rare books from the continent.

Ruth let them be and made her way to the counter so she could enter the titles of the books sold - when they eventually got to that part of the transaction. Louise came back into the shop with a stack of new folios from the printer to bind and set them down on the edge of the counter.

The tone of the men’s conversation developed a sharpness, as the two began to argue about which of them had the right to buy a book they both wanted.

It was time to break them up, as gently as possible, before this turned to acrimony. She patted her face to make sure the tears were all gone. Her skin felt cool again, so she hoped she was no longer a splotchy mess.

“Lord Ferndale, you live close by and can come into the shop any day you choose to browse the new titles. Please allow the gentleman all the way from Cumbria to buy the book. I shall order you a replacement.”

Ferndale wagged his finger and smiled as he mildly corrected Marie. “I keep saying you should call me Grandfather, my dear!”

“Sorry, Grandfather.” It was lovely saying that. She smiled fondly at him.

Ferndale then said, “Are you going to introduce us, perchance?”

Marie apologised for her lapse and introduced Baron Ferndale to the Earl of Renwick, then explained to Sebastian, “My eldest sister, Estelle, married Lord Ferndale’s grandson, Felix Yates, and…”

“... That’s why we’re now family,” Lord Ferndale said jovially, “and I am delighted to have four new granddaughters.”

Marie adored that Lord Ferndale and Miss Yates had welcomed all four sisters into the fold, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

“The Baxter women are truly lovely, and so very clever. Each in their own way,” Lord Ferndale said, ladling on the praise. “That’s why I encouraged the match between Estelle and my grandson in the first place. An excellent connection on all counts. Have you received any letters from them, Marie? They must be enjoying themselves far too much to write, for I have received only one missive.”

Marie burned with embarrassment. What she did not appreciate was Lord Ferdale’s obvious matchmaking attempts, following his marvellous success with Estelle and Felix. The elderly baron was looking from her to Renwick with a most alarming twinkle in his eye.

“Ah, er, I don’t know,” she stammered. “One might have come while I was away. I’ll ask Louise.” She looked about for reinforcements, but Louise had disappeared again. She had to break these two up or she might perish in agonised embarrassment. Lord Ferndale might have been able to convince his own grandson to see Estelle as a suitable match, but Renwick was an earl and under no obligation to appease anyone, much less an eccentric old man he’d just met in a bookshop.

“If you’ll come with me, my lord,” she said to Renwick, indicating they should walk to the counter with his book, “I’ll make sure Louise wraps this with as much care as your last order.” She was babbling now, but she had to get him away from their self-appointed family match-maker.

Louise reappeared, and nodded as Marie handed her the book. “A good choice, Lord Renwick. I’ll just get some oilcloth to wrap it.”

“I thank you,” he said, following Louise around to the side of the counter, before freezing in his tracks and looking down. Wondering what had happened, Marie was opening her mouth to ask the question when she saw the expression on his face turn to disgust.

“ ’Pon rep! I appear to have stepped in something.”

“Oh no. Pie!” Marie cried out in horror. “You little wretch!”

Ruth left the back of the counter to assist Lord Ferndale in his perusals, while Louise and Marie cleaned up the entrails.

“Oh yes, I was taking the cat home too,” Renwick said. “I suppose I’ll have to keep the windows closed in the carriage so he doesn’t scarper off on the way.”

Louise said, “We bought a basket for him to travel, so he’ll be safe and sound.”

“Excellent.” He sat on the stool when Marie brought it around from the counter and lifted his boot, so Marie could use a rag to clean the last remnants of entrails off the sole.

Her face was burning with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry about this, my lord…”

“I’ve stepped in worse, Miss Baxter.” His smile was kind, his eyes bright with genuine amusement.

There is the sweet, kind man I grew to know and love in Cumbria. Her heart ached as she put the rag in the ashpan. Louise had gone back upstairs to fetch the basket for Pie, and Ruth and Lord Ferndale were somewhere deep within the shelves, their voices drifting distantly. Marie knew her conversation with Renwick would not be overheard.

“My lord, as you suggested, I’d be happy to send you a list of new books we receive ahead of placing our regular advertisement in The Times.”

Was that too fast? Any time he needed, she’d happily pack a trunk of books and travel to Alston with them.

“That would be most convenient, I do appreciate it. And, of course, you needn’t travel all that way, you can post them to me.”

He was smiling as he said it, but a chill settled in Marie’s heart. He was dismissing her.

Louise came back out with the basket, lined with old cotton rags, with the half-grown cat safely contained within. “There’s some bowls here, and a little cut up chicken he might eat on the journey,” she said, handing Renwick a cloth bag. “You’ll need to provide a box of earth, of course, and his dinner…”

“I’m sure we can find a fish head or two at the inns we’ll stop at, eh, Pie?” Renwick accepted the bag and basket, and his most recent purchase closely wrapped in oilcloth to protect the book. “Thank you, Miss Louise.” He made her a polite little bow. “Miss Baxter…” He tilted his head towards the door, and Marie followed him out, heartsick. She watched as he placed the cat and his package inside the coach, drawn up waiting outside, before turning back to her.

“It has been an honour and a privilege to get to know you, Marie Baxter,” he said, his tone soft, and he picked up her hand and bowed over it, brushing the lightest kiss over the backs of her knuckles. “Thank you for… well, for everything.”

She was trying very hard to hold back tears. “Everything?” she said in a stiff little voice quite unlike her own.

“Indeed, I have so many things to thank you for! For travelling all the way to Cumbria in the dead of winter to satisfy my quite unreasonable demands for personal delivery, for your grace after being injured in the performance of that task, for your charming and entertaining company this Christmastide, for improving my sons’ French beyond recognition… and most of all, for opening my eyes to the damage I was doing to my own relationship with them. Thanks do not seem like enough for all you have done for us.”

She didn’t know what to say. So she bobbed a silly little curtsey and mumbled “It was all a very great pleasure, my lord, and no thanks are needed.”

He looked at her for a long moment, as though trying to fix her face in his memory, and then he said very softly “Goodbye, dear Marie,” and turned away and climbed into his coach.

Somehow, Marie managed to stand and wave until the coach was out of sight, before stumbling blindly back inside the bookshop and collapsing in tears of utter misery.