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CHAPTER FOUR

Desdemona entered the bookshop bright and early that Saturday, searching for several new books.

Coins jingled in her purse and she was looking forward to picking up both a new book of poetry and several Gothic novels.

Her mother begrudgingly allowed her to read whatever she wished, as she realized there were worse things Des could be devoting her time to.

The door bell sounded and the shopkeeper smiled as he greeted her. “Miss Oldstone, always a pleasure.”

“Likewise, Mr. Elliot,” she said, bobbing him a curtsey. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten anything new in the back that hasn’t made it to your shelves yet?”

Elliot chuckled. “I think I may have a few. I’ll be right back.” The older man made his way into the back of the store.

Des wandered into the first row of stacks, glancing at the titles, pulling a book of poems off the shelf to peruse. She then moved to the travelogues, selecting one on Greece.

“I didn’t care for Greece myself,” came a lazy, masculine drawl from the next row over. “Italy was much more entertaining.” A handsome man with silvery-gold hair came around the stacks. His coat matched his jade green eyes, and the smile he gave her would have sent any other lady into a swoon.

“I’ve been to Italy as well. A lovely country with very warm and friendly people.” She moved down the stacks, glancing up at the titles again. “I’ve never been to Greece.”

“Lovely beaches, but not much else to recommend it,” he said dismissively.

“Well then, I suppose I should read the book instead of visiting there,” she replied.

He paused a few moments, then grinned. “Touche.” He bowed to her, taking her hand. “Lord Marcus Richmond.” Looking up through his lashes, he said, “I know I should wait for a proper introduction, but I heard Elliot say your name, Miss Oldstone, so we’ve already been introduced.”

She curtsied to him, studying him carefully. “Lord Richmond.”

He tucked her hand into his elbow and escorted her to the next row of stacks. “Miss Oldstone, what else do you care to read?”

She shuffled her books in her arms. “Novels, poetry, travelogues. Anything to let me escape to other places, even for a few moments.” She gently pulled her hand from his arm and reached for a tome of poetry, then headed back to the front counter.

Mr. Elliot was returning from the back room with several soft covered books.

“Here you go,” Elliot said, “the two newest ones from Lady Anon.”

Lord Richmond strolled up and said, “Please, allow me,” he said, glancing at the shopkeeper.

Des shook her head, opening her purse. “You cannot, my lord. It would be improper.” She set the coins on the counter and collected her purchases, putting them in the canvas bag she carried. She bid the shopkeeper good day, then headed to the exit.

Lord Richmond followed her to the door. “If you won’t let me gift you the books, perhaps you would join me for luncheon and maybe a ride in the park.” He opened the door and reached for her hand again when another voice greeted her.

“Miss Oldstone!” Ambrose called warmly, glancing at the other man. “Richmond,” he said, nodding.

“Silvers.” He met Ambrose’s gaze. “You know Miss Oldstone?”

Desdemona gave him a pleading look.

“I do,” Ambrose replied. “In fact, we were meeting for tea this morning,” then turned his attention back to Des. “If you’ve finished your shopping.”

“I have,” Des said, her eyes filled with relief. She pulled her hand from Lord Richmond’s grasp. “Thank you for the conversation, my lord.” Then setting her hand on Ambrose’s arm, they walked towards his waiting carriage, leaving Richmond behind.

“Another time, then, Miss Oldstone,” Richmond called. “I’ll see you at the club, Silvers.”

Desdemona gave Richmond a polite smile then turned her attention to Ambrose as he handed her up into the carriage before taking the seat across from her.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said, her relief evident. “His lordship did not want to accept my rejection.”

“Glad to be of service, Miss Oldstone. Richmond is a rake, and is quite proud of the fact. He seemed quite taken by you.” He tapped the roof, setting them quickly on their way.

“I am certain for all the wrong reasons,” she said plainly. “I have been approached by his kind before.”

“I am not surprised,” he answered. “You are quite lovely.”

She met his gaze, cocking an eyebrow. “I was not fishing for compliments, my lord.”

Ambrose smiled rakishly. “Of course not, but you will garner them in any case.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She glanced out the window. “Where are we going?”

“I believe I said I was meeting you for tea, and since it gives me the perfect opportunity to check up on an investment, we are headed to Lady Primrose’s.”

Desdemona’s jaw dropped. “It is near impossible to get into Lady Primrose’s unless you’re a member--”

“Or an investor,” Ambrose finished. “And luckily, I am both.”

“Lord Silvers,” she started.

“Please, my name is Ambrose.” His smile wasn’t rakish anymore, but softer, almost pleading.

“And you must call me Desdemona, Ambrose.” Her voice was soft, shy.

He nodded. “As I was saying, Desdemona, I wanted to visit with my man of affairs, and he was to meet me at Lady P’s. Unless you’d rather not go.”

She shook her head. “No, I would love to go,” she said quickly.

“I remember reading about the tea room when it first opened, and I thought I would love to go, just once to see how it was done up.” She chuckled then, “There were book salons in Paris, where I did my apprenticeship, but I never had the time, nor the entre into them.”

“Then this should be a fantastic experience for you.” Her enthusiasm was contagious, and they chatted amiably as his carriage pulled into the drive of a large manor-style home.

He handed her down, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as he greeted the majordomo by name.

They were immediately shown to a linen covered table with blue china plates and gleaming silverware.

A black lacquered tea service was brought to the table by one of most handsome servers Desdemona had ever seen.

She watched as Ambrose sniffed the different cups of dry tea leaves before selecting one, which was emptied into the tea pot.

The server then filled the pot with steaming hot water before placing it in the center of the table.

Young ladies in light blue gowns and bright white aprons brought trays of pastries to the table, offering first apple, then strawberry tarts, along with biscuits dipped in chocolate and marzipan fruit.

Finally, the original server poured out two cups of tea then set the small pitcher of cream and dish of sugar chunks onto the tray next to the teapot.

At Ambrose’s nod of approval, they were left to their cups.

“This is amazing.” Desdemona cupped the black teacup in her hands and breathed deeply, enjoying the aroma. “What kind is this?”

“This is Bohea,” Ambrose replied, dropping a chunk of sugar into his cup.

He started to describe the particulars of the tea when Desdemona glanced around and her smile fell. “Oh no…”

Ambrose paused and turned to see what faded her smile. Two women, one tall, slim and aristocratic, one shorter, more earthy looking. They were headed to their table, smiling widely at Desdemona.

“Dizzy love,” the smaller woman called, waving. “We didn’t expect to see you here.” She glanced at the server and had the waiter bring over two more chairs and table services. “You don’t mind if we join you, do you?”

Desdemona gave a defeated smile, knowing there would no way of deterring them. “Of course not, Auntie Gail, Your Grace.” Ambrose stood quickly and faced both ladies. “May I introduce Lord Ambrose Silvers. Lord Silvers, Her Grace, The Duchess of Clearfield, my aunt, and Lady Gail Bennett.”

Ambrose made an elegant bow to them, then seated the duchess, then Lady Gail. Her Grace studied Ambrose with an intelligent eye. “Lord Silvers, how are you acquainted with our Dizzy?”

“Miss Oldstone and I met at the modiste,” he started.

“He was looking for a gift and I helped him find some fine lace for handkerchiefs,” Desdemona finished.

Lady Gail patted her hand. “Our Dizzy has such a talent with needlework.” She looked Ambrose up and down, then to Desdemona. “He’s a handsome one.”

Ambrose choked on his tea while Desdemona looked as if she wanted to crawl under the table. Ambrose recovered first. “Thank you, my lady.”

The duchess watched the exchange with interest. “Dizzy dear, I hope you’ll be able to join us next week for supper and the opera. The Duke was quite disappointed you missed our last get together, and I know how much you enjoy the opera.”

“Thank you, Aunt Imogen, I have it in my head to attend, but if I receive another rush order, I may have to skip again,” Desdemona replied.

“Nonsense,” the duchess said, waving her hand. “No one needs garments that badly that you can not have supper with your family,” nodding at Lady Bennett.

“Perhaps we could invite a friend or two of yours. Is Elise back in town?” Lady Bennett asked.

“No, Auntie,” Des answered, “not for another few weeks.”

“What about you, Lord Silvers, are you free next Tuesday to dine with us?” the duchess asked. “It will just be dinner with family and a few of the duke’s friends and associates. And our Dizzy, of course.”

Ambrose was surprised and turned to Desdemona, who blushed crimson. “I would be honored to dine with you all.” He grinned then, “My father will certainly be pleased I’ll not be attending to my usual entertainments.”

“Then it’s settled.” The duchess seemed quite pleased with herself. “Dizzy dear, we’ll send a carriage to pick you up at 6:45 sharp.”

“Or better yet,” Lady Bennett interrupted, “Lord Silvers, perhaps you could escort our niece? I’m certain the company of a friend would be make her less nervous about the evening.”

Ambrose turned to Desdemona. “It would be my great pleasure to escort you, Miss Oldstone.” A server then approached Ambrose with a folded not on a silver platter.

After reading the message, he set his cup back onto the saucer and rose.

“Unfortunately, I have an appointment with my man of business who has just arrived, if you would please excuse me.” He bowed to each woman, went to the counter to settle the bill, then with one final wave to Desdemona, he moved to another table across the room.

The duchess watched him go then turned her attention to Desdemona. “Dizzy dear, does your father know…”

“Father met him the other day when he came for tea.”

“I will speak with him tonight.” She smiled warmly at Desdemona. “We were hoping to settle you with one of your father’s business associates, but Silvers is the son of a marquess. Not the heir, of course, but still a wonderful catch.”

“Aunt Imogen,” Des insisted, “He is just a friend. I was at the bookstore and a man was bothering me. Lord Silvers was kind enough to discourage the man and brought me here to settle my nerves.”

“We saw how he was watching you, Dizzy dear,” Lady Bennett said. “It would not take much to turn this friendship into something more.”

“As long as the something more is a respectable more,” Her Grace added.

“Are you certain you both are not imagining things?” Des asked.

“Absolutely certain,” the duchess replied. “Perhaps you should consider whether you would welcome his attentions, my dear.”

As they finished their tea, Des remained quiet, pensive.

Was he actually interested in her for more than a fling or an arrangement similar to what her parents shared?

He was very handsome, charming, and kind.

She was well below his notice by ton standards, yet he rescued her from Richmond’s unwanted attention. Tea was almost an afterthought.