The Bookseller and the Earl Read online

  “Instead of buying a book on it, would it not be more practical to find someone who knows sign language and have them teach it to Michael? And I imagine to you, as well, if you are going to communicate with your son.”

  They continued to walk, their feet moving, but Berkshire continued to stare at her until she felt the very familiar flush creeping up from her middle to her face.

  “That is a wonderful idea!” The tension in his body seemed to leave him, and he smiled. “If you are not careful, Miss Mallory, I will make an inappropriate statement again and suggest I should kiss you for that.”

  Grayson studied the flush rising on Miss Mallory’s face. She was such an innocent. Of course, having a man she barely knew suggest twice in their short acquaintance that he should kiss her might fluster any young lady.

  He didn’t understand why he was so charmed by Miss Mallory. She was pretty, of course, and had a wonderful figure, but more than that it was her intelligence and kindness that kept drawing him in.

  Much like Margaret had drawn him in before she destroyed his life. But her words had all been false. Sweet, kissable lips spewing lies. He’d sworn after his wife’s death, he would never again allow a woman to worm her way into his heart, only to smash it into pieces and scatter the remnants to the wind. And laugh while she did it.

  No, he would not allow that to happen again, but he could still be friends with this woman who fascinated him so. “I admire how open and accepting you are of my son’s shortcomings.”

  She studied his face for a minute, and then seemed to make a decision. “I have my own shortcomings, as well.”

  Just then the music came to an end and the couples on the floor strolled to their seats. He did not want to give up her company, but didn’t want to keep her from her friends if that was where she preferred to be. He might want to spend time with her, but he had no way of knowing her feelings on the matter.

  He decided to take the plunge, anyway. “Would you care to continue our walk outside, Miss Mallory? I believe I could use a bit of fresh air. We could walk the path from the church hall around the rectory and then return.”

  It only took her a couple of seconds to smile and nod. “Yes. I believe I could use some fresh air myself.”

  The sun had disappeared behind clouds since they’d entered the church hall and the air was a bit chilly. “Are you cold? We can return if you would like.”

  “No. I’m fine.” She took his proffered arm and they began their stroll.

  A few minutes passed, and then Miss Mallory said, “I have word blindness.” She didn’t look at him but instead continued to stare straight ahead.

  He frowned. “You have a vision problem?”

  She offered him a soft smile and looked up at him. “No. It’s something called word blindness. It’s a strange way to describe it, but what it actually means is that I see things—words mostly—different than other people.”

  “I don’t understand. Do you mean like color blindness?”

  She blew out a deep breath. “No, not like that. I’m afraid I don’t understand it very well either. All I know is when I read a book, I must go slowly because the letters switch around.” She looked up at him and shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it better. What you see as the letter ‘d’ for example, looks the opposite to me. But to make it more confusing, that doesn’t happen all the time. Sometimes a ‘d’ looks like a ‘d’ and other times it looks like a ‘b.’

  “I tend to lose my place when I’m reading, so I guess the rest of the sentence. Sometimes I can only skim the page, and my eyes land on certain words which tells me what the author is saying on that page.”

  Berkshire let out a slow whistle and shook his head. “So that is why you said you were not a voracious reader even though you own a bookstore?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “Amazingly enough, I love books. I always have. But they, unfortunately, do not love me back.”

  How very odd that the one person he met who showed understanding and sympathy for Michael has an issue of her own. On the other hand, there was nothing odd about it. She most likely had to deal with criticisms and misunderstanding all her life.

  “Also,” she continued, “I find directions confusing. What I mean is, not only left and right, but forward and backward, up and down.” She offered a soft, somewhat self-deprecating laugh. “My parents were always afraid when I left the house.”

  What an amazing woman. Not only did she live with this unusual affliction, but she had the courage to open a business. “You are an incredible person, Miss Mallory.”

  She came to a halt. “Why, thank you, my lord.” She flushed again and dipped a slight curtsy, apparently wanting to lighten the conversation.

  “You mentioned before that your parents allowed you to live your dream to own a bookstore. Do they live in Bath, also?”

  “No. They live in London. It took some persuading to convince them I would be just fine on my own. However, they insisted I bring my companion and chaperone—goodness at my age I hate that term—Mrs. Wesley.”

  They made their way around the rectory and headed back to the church hall. The air had grown chillier and he was aware of Miss Mallory rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

  “Would you care to wear my jacket?”

  “No. Thank you very much, we are almost back to the church hall.” Almost as a second thought, she said, “I assume from our conversations you do not remember me?”

  Grayson frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  Miss Mallory studied the last of the summer flowers along the path. “I have been subjected to six years of London Seasons. I have seen you with a few of your friends several times at various events.”

  “You have?” How could he not have remembered her?

  She nodded. “Do not fret, my lord. I am not the sort of woman who gains attention from gentlemen. If you saw me at all, it was probably after I walked into a footman carrying a full tray of drinks.”

  He tried very hard to keep the pity from his eyes. With this woman’s courage, pity was the last thing she deserved. “Ah, so that is why the escape to Bath.”

  “I like to think I was not escaping. I liken it to not running from but running towards.”

  “A very good way to think about it.” They had reached the end of the path that led them back to the church hall. “Thank you for the walk. I will escort you inside and then I will take my leave. I promised to read to Michael.”

  They entered the hall, the noise of dozens of conversations greeting them. The orchestra was playing another waltz, and there were several couples on the dance floor. Grayson led Miss Mallory to the table, pulled out her chair, and gave a slight bow to the others at the table. “I wish you all a good day.” With those words, he turned on his heel and headed toward the bride and groom. He offered his felicitations and explained the reason for his early departure was his promise to Michael.

  “Give him our love,” his cousin said. Diana was perhaps his favorite cousin, one of the few who did not look at Michael as an oddity. “You must come and bring Michael for a visit once we have returned from our wedding trip.”

  “If I get to London, I will surely send word. Enjoy your trip.” He shook hands with Mr. Calvert, Diana’s new husband, and made his way to the door.

  “Be sure to make time for me, young man.” Aunt Mary thumped her cane a few times as he passed her table. He bent and kissed the weathered cheek. “I will be there.”

  “And bring your young lady, too.”

  There was no point in telling Aunt Mary there was no young lady, and if he had his way, there would never again be a young lady.

  Liar.

  Chapter Four

  The Monday after the wedding, Addie sat at her small desk at the back of the store working on her ledgers. The task was laborious and with her deficiency, torturous. Once she felt the business could absorb the cost, she would hire a bookkeeper. But until then, she forced herself to do a little bit of the work each day, so it didn’t
pile up.

  Two women who had arrived together browsed the shelves, commenting to each other on various books they looked through. Another woman with a small child was going through the shelf of children’s books. She really should see about ordering some more. Her children’s section was gaining more and more visitors each week.

  The day before a torrential rain and windstorm had kept her from attending church, something she never did. She also had a bit of a cold and decided staying indoors with a warm toddy and a book would be fine with the Lord. Her newest read was Miss Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Even though it was an old book, she was thoroughly enjoying reading about times past.

  Miss Austen had lived in Bath for a short time. Rumor had it that she didn’t care for the city, but there were some spots she did enjoy. In any event, she could not have disliked it too much since two of her books, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, were both set in Bath.

  As was usual, the day after a storm brought clear, crisp air and bright sunshine. The golden rays streamed through the window next to her, bathing her in warmth and light. She looked up at the sound of the door chime. A gentleman unknown to her stepped in and glanced around.

  Addie rose from her desk and walked to the front of the store. “Good morning, sir. I am Miss Mallory, owner of Once Upon a Book. Is there something particular you are interested in?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “You.”

  She startled. “Excuse me?”

  “I came to see you.” He removed his bowler hat, tucking it under his arm, and gave a sharp bow. “I am Lord Featherington. My mother is a friend of your mother and since I was making a trip to Bath for business purposes, the ladies asked if I would stop in to see you. Maybe escort you to dinner, or the theater while I am here.”

  Oh, Mother, no. Please, no.

  Since she never expected to see him outside of a London ballroom, she had not recognized the man immediately. Lord Featherington was known to her. Unfortunately. “How very nice of you to visit our city, my lord. How long do you plan to stay?”

  He winked. Actually winked! “It depends.”

  She would not play into his hand and ask what his visit depended upon. “Well, I hope you have a wonderful visit. I am quite busy right now, if you would care to take a look around, I am sure we have something here that will pique your interest.”

  The words had no sooner left her mouth than she wanted to snatch them back. Just as she feared, he immediately used them against her. “I have already found something—or should I say someone—to pique my interest.”

  She groaned inwardly. Mr. Featherington was the male version of her. He was not socially adept and had a horrible habit of crashing into the things she managed to miss. She’d witnessed him falling into the Serpentine one time chasing his dog, being thrown from his curricle when he took a corner too fast, and missing the last step entering a ballroom, stumbling into Lady Montrose, bringing them both to the floor.

  She could only imagine the disaster that would occur if they joined forces and stormed a restaurant or theater. She shuddered to think of the carnage.

  “As much as I would enjoy dinner or the theater, I have quite a heavy schedule.” She waved in the direction of the bookcases. “Running the store takes up all my time.”

  He shook his head and offered what she was sure he thought was a charming smile. It looked to her like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. “I refuse to believe you don’t even take time for lunch or dinner. I will pick you up here at six o’clock, which is the time your sign says you close.” He waved his finger in her face. “I will not take no for an answer since I must report back to my mother upon my return to London.”

  Oh, good heavens. I’ll bet you do. The mothers would be waiting with bated breath.

  The only way she could refuse was to be downright rude and her mother might very well make the trip to Bath to chastise her in person if she did. The last thing she needed was Mother visiting her again. She still had not recovered from her last visit. “Then if you insist.” She gave an imitation of a smile.

  “I do.” He took her hand and stared into her eyes. “I will see you at six o’clock then.” With those words, he turned on his heel, walked to the door, barely missing a table with books displayed on it, and left. She breathed a sigh of relief that the store was still standing.

  Grayson stopped in front of Once Upon a Book and released Michael’s hand to smooth his hair and check the rest of his appearance. Grayson could never understand how the lad could do nothing more than ride in his carriage and come out looking like he’d been rolling down hills in the park. But then again, four-year-old boys did have a way of messing themselves up. He should know since he’d been a boy once himself.

  He wanted to explain to Michael that he was visiting a friend, but until he found a way to communicate with his son, he lived with the frustration of the damnable silence. He gave him a warm smile, hoping that would tell him this was somewhere pleasant.

  Taking his hand once again, he opened the door to the store and entered. Miss Mallory was at the back of the store, sitting at a desk, hunched over a ledger. He walked toward her, noting four customers browsing the shelves. Grayson checked his watch again. He purposely timed his arrival near to closing time in hopes that he could persuade her to join them for dinner.

  “Good evening, Miss Mallory.”

  She looked up, a bright smile covering her face, and bringing one to his. She must have been struggling with her books because her hair was falling down in tiny wisps near her temples and ears. There was a smudge of lead pencil on her chin and she’d opened the top button of her shirtwaist. Yet she looked so appealing, he had a hard time finding his voice and controlling the thumping of his heart.

  “I would like to introduce you to my son, Master Michael Thompson, the Viscount Falmouth.”

  She pushed her chair back and came around the desk to squat in front of Michael. She cupped his cheeks in her hands, laying her thumbs on his neck, and spoke directly to him. “Such an impressive title for a little boy. Hello, Michael.” Then she smiled. Of course, Michael didn’t know what she said, but the smile told him all he needed to know, apparently, because he smiled back.

  Grayson was stunned to see tears in her eyes when she looked up him. “He’s beautiful.”

  Damnation, he hated how his heartbeat continued to increase, and how warm he felt inside. This woman could be dangerous to him. Yet he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And like a moth, if he continued to dance around her, teasing himself, getting closer and closer, he would go up in flames.

  However, he did enjoy her company, and her interest in his son, so he would just need to keep her at a distance to protect his heart. And avoid incineration.

  “We are ready to make our purchases,” one of the customers had wandered back to Miss Mallory’s desk.

  “Yes. Of course.” Miss Mallory laid her hand on Michael’s head, but spoke directly to his face. “I won’t be long.”

  While she chatted with the customers, took money, and wrapped books, he brought Michael to the children’s section of the store and pulled out a few books. They sat on the wooden bench situated along one wall near the window.

  Even though he knew the boy couldn’t hear, Mrs. Banfield thought they should read to him out loud. He did notice that Michael’s eyes moved from the page to his mouth, back-and-forth, the entire time he read. Was he learning to lip read?

  After about fifteen minutes, Miss Mallory joined them. “I think that is probably the last customer of the day.”

  He checked his watch. “Yes. It’s almost six o’clock.”

  She casually fingered Michael’s hair as he continued to turn the pages of a picture book. “I want you to know I have been searching, asking publishers’ salesmen, and writing letters trying to find books on sign language.”

  He nodded. “I really appreciate that. I sent a letter to the headmaster at Institution Nationale des Sourds-Muets à Paris.”

  “That
was an excellent idea. I’m sure he can help in your search. Have you had any success in finding someone who knows sign language and can teach it to you both?”

  “Since I sent that letter to Paris, I have discovered the Royal School for Deaf Children in London, which is of course, much closer than Paris. I have sent off a letter to them, also. One thing I asked in both my letters to the schools was if they knew of someone in this area who could teach it.” He shook his head and looked at his son, happily going through the pages of a book. “If I cannot find someone, I will have to take Michael to London and enroll him.”

  Miss Mallory handed Michael another book when he closed the one he’d been looking at. “Will you stay with him, then?”

  He nodded. “I would have to. He is much too young to be left at a school with no one nearby to contact in case of an emergency. As much as I would not want to relocate to London, I would have no choice. At least I can conduct my business from there, so it would not be as much of a burden as Paris would have been.” He grinned. “Except I don’t like London.”

  Just then the doorbell sounded. “Oh, I hope this customer doesn’t want to stay long.” Miss Mallory checked her timepiece fastened to her bodice. She stood and shook out her skirts. “It is six o’clock. I will have to tell them they must return tomorrow.”

  “There you are. I thought you were hiding from me.” A corpulent man of about thirty years strolled up to them and took Miss Mallory’s hand. “I am here for our dinner date.”

  Dinner date? Grayson’s stomach knotted and everything competitive and male in him rose to the surface.

  “Good evening, my lord. I didn’t realize it was six o’clock already.” The lie slid off her tongue like warm honey. Here she was enjoying her conversation with Lord Berkshire and his delightful little boy and totally forgotten her ‘date’ with Lord Featherington.