her.” With a beaming smile, Aunt Augusta lifted Pollux—or was it Castor?—as if Lucius should offer the creature some parting words.
The butler helped Lucius into his coat and held the door open for him, letting in a breath of the unseasonably warm air. Lucius knew he was only imagining the scent of violets that hung on the breeze.
“You will see about her? What exactly do you intend to do?”
Pollux stared up at him with innocent eyes, but his aunt wore a grin so full of machinations and mischief that it would have made a vicar blush.
The ticking at the base of his skull built to a crescendo. Jessamin Wright was an orphan, without family, with perhaps no other means of support than the bookshop she’d just lost. He owed her nothing. The woman had publicly disgraced him, if Mrs. Briggs was to be believed. Yet despite his aunt’s desire to see about her, he could not imagine returning to Berkshire without seeing about Miss Wright himself.
Even if the impulse was an ill-conceived one. And it most certainly was.
Even if it would be the last time he ever saw Jessamin Wright again. And it definitely would be.
The distraction of donning his hat and offering Castor, or perhaps Pollux, a farewell pat on the head allowed him a moment to silence the doubts and make his decision.
He wouldn’t be leaving London straightaway after all
Chapter Six
“M ISS W RIGH T , T H E R E ’ S a gentleman here to see you.”
Jess jumped at the sound of Jack’s voice. She’d been staring for nearly an hour at the faded photograph of her father she kept in the bookshop’s back office. In her mind, she was turning over what to tell their patrons, their lending library borrowers, and, mostly, what she would say to her father if he were still alive. How could she explain that she’d lost a business he’d managed to hold together, even through years of mismanagement?
Jack’s words pulled her back to the present and reminded her explanations were unnecessary. If Father hadn’t died, she wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. Then again, if she hadn’t kissed a viscount on some silly woman’s whim, Mr. Briggs might have had a bit more mercy.
But there was no use worrying over the past and what might have been. Her main task now was settling their patrons’ accounts and finding some form of gainful employment.
“Did you tell him the shop is closed? Permanently.”
“Seems he’s here to see you, miss.”
Jessamin stood and arched her back, working out the stiffness the straight-back chair had caused during her pointless, dejected woolgathering.
“Please tell me it’s not Mr. Briggs again.”
Jack quirked a queer little grin, which only piqued her interest.
“Well, who is it?”
“Didn’t give a name. Just asked for you.”
It couldn’t be good news. The way the day was going, Jess felt certain it could only get worse. After pushing a few stray hairs into pins and straightening her skirts, she took a deep breath and prepared to meet worse head-on.
She took three steps and halted so suddenly that Jack, who’d been following behind, bumped into her and nearly knocked her off her feet.
“It’s all right, Jack. Will you work on the borrower letters in the office?”
Jack made a noise that reeked of disapproval, but he obediently retreated. He peeked out at her through the office door before shutting it behind him, as if to signal he’d be available should she need saving.
Here, in the middle of her sunken business, stood the one man in England she was certain she’d never see again. It was the tall, dark viscount. The man she’d been hired to kiss—that rash and ridiculous kiss, the very reason for the second worst day of her life.
“Lord Grimsby.” There was nothing else to say. At least nothing civil or polite, nothing pleasant. She doubted very much that he’d wish to hear how her life had just broken into pieces.
Jess clasped her hands behind her back. In the awkward silence, she
The butler helped Lucius into his coat and held the door open for him, letting in a breath of the unseasonably warm air. Lucius knew he was only imagining the scent of violets that hung on the breeze.
“You will see about her? What exactly do you intend to do?”
Pollux stared up at him with innocent eyes, but his aunt wore a grin so full of machinations and mischief that it would have made a vicar blush.
The ticking at the base of his skull built to a crescendo. Jessamin Wright was an orphan, without family, with perhaps no other means of support than the bookshop she’d just lost. He owed her nothing. The woman had publicly disgraced him, if Mrs. Briggs was to be believed. Yet despite his aunt’s desire to see about her, he could not imagine returning to Berkshire without seeing about Miss Wright himself.
Even if the impulse was an ill-conceived one. And it most certainly was.
Even if it would be the last time he ever saw Jessamin Wright again. And it definitely would be.
The distraction of donning his hat and offering Castor, or perhaps Pollux, a farewell pat on the head allowed him a moment to silence the doubts and make his decision.
He wouldn’t be leaving London straightaway after all
Chapter Six
“M ISS W RIGH T , T H E R E ’ S a gentleman here to see you.”
Jess jumped at the sound of Jack’s voice. She’d been staring for nearly an hour at the faded photograph of her father she kept in the bookshop’s back office. In her mind, she was turning over what to tell their patrons, their lending library borrowers, and, mostly, what she would say to her father if he were still alive. How could she explain that she’d lost a business he’d managed to hold together, even through years of mismanagement?
Jack’s words pulled her back to the present and reminded her explanations were unnecessary. If Father hadn’t died, she wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. Then again, if she hadn’t kissed a viscount on some silly woman’s whim, Mr. Briggs might have had a bit more mercy.
But there was no use worrying over the past and what might have been. Her main task now was settling their patrons’ accounts and finding some form of gainful employment.
“Did you tell him the shop is closed? Permanently.”
“Seems he’s here to see you, miss.”
Jessamin stood and arched her back, working out the stiffness the straight-back chair had caused during her pointless, dejected woolgathering.
“Please tell me it’s not Mr. Briggs again.”
Jack quirked a queer little grin, which only piqued her interest.
“Well, who is it?”
“Didn’t give a name. Just asked for you.”
It couldn’t be good news. The way the day was going, Jess felt certain it could only get worse. After pushing a few stray hairs into pins and straightening her skirts, she took a deep breath and prepared to meet worse head-on.
She took three steps and halted so suddenly that Jack, who’d been following behind, bumped into her and nearly knocked her off her feet.
“It’s all right, Jack. Will you work on the borrower letters in the office?”
Jack made a noise that reeked of disapproval, but he obediently retreated. He peeked out at her through the office door before shutting it behind him, as if to signal he’d be available should she need saving.
Here, in the middle of her sunken business, stood the one man in England she was certain she’d never see again. It was the tall, dark viscount. The man she’d been hired to kiss—that rash and ridiculous kiss, the very reason for the second worst day of her life.
“Lord Grimsby.” There was nothing else to say. At least nothing civil or polite, nothing pleasant. She doubted very much that he’d wish to hear how her life had just broken into pieces.
Jess clasped her hands behind her back. In the awkward silence, she
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