Chapter Three
The next afternoon, after haggling a good price for meat at the market, Cecelia stood in the narrow, shadowy aisle of Lexington Booksellers, running her finger down the spine of Byron’s book of poetry.
Mr. Lexington cleared his throat, and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Miss Cartwright, if you are not going to purchase that book, please do not keep touching it.”
Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand, but as she brought it to her side, a bolt of determination filled her. She reached up, snatched the book off the shelf, and marched up to the counter. She plunked it down before dour Mr. Lexington. “I would, in fact, like to purchase this book,” she announced.
Mr. Lexington gave her a surprised look. “You wish to actually buy this book?Today?”
As the bell over the entrance behind her jingled to announce a new customer, embarrassment heated Cecelia’s cheeks. She prayed that whoever it was would hurriedly pass by the front counter. Theclop clopof shoes against the hardwood floor filled the quiet store, and blessedly, the newcomer seemed to move past the counter, but how far she was not certain as Mr. Lexington started talking again, overly loud. She cringed.
“Miss Cartwright, you did not answer me. Do you wish to actually purchase this book today, or will this be like the many other times that you have come in here in the past year, handled my books, and then left without buying a thing?”
She glared at the odious man. If she had any money to spare, she most definitely would have bought some books. She was almost glad in this moment that she did not have the money, though, as Mr. Lexington was horrid and did not deserve her business. Still, her heart ached thinking of the ruined the book her father had paid good money to buy her. She wished to replace it, even though it would not be the one he had bought. Alas, she could not afford it.
She cleared her throat. “As soon as I acquire the funds I will give them to you. If you would please just hold this book for me.” She eyed the only remaining copy of Byron’s book.
“No,” Mr. Lexington snapped, snatched the book from her hands, and scowled at her. “I suggest you go home.”
“And I suggest ye learn to treat yer customers with more respect,” came a cool, disapproving voice from directly behind her.
She knew that voice! Cecelia whirled around and looked up into Liam’s face. His eyes, cold and filled with dislike, were fastened on Mr. Lexington.
Her heart skipped several beats at the sight of him. “Lord MacLeod!” she exclaimed. “Whatever are you doing here?”
His gaze softened on her. “I had a sudden, keen desire to purchase Lord Byron’s book of poetry,Hours of Idleness.”
Cecelia sucked in a sharp breath. Was that because of their encounter?
“You are in luck, my lord,” Mr. Lexington said. Cecelia faced Mr. Lexington and frowned at him as he patted the book with a happy grin. “This is the last copy I have in stock.”
As the bookseller told Liam the price and Liam produced the money, jealousy and slight resentment stirred in Cecelia. She had no right to begrudge Liam for having the funds to purchase the book. Even so, tears pricked her eyes, and she quickly moved away from the counter and started toward the door.
“Miss Cartwright!” Liam called after her. She pretended not to hear him, fearful that she could not hold back her tears of frustration and loss. Blinking rapidly, she rushed through the door and collided with Aila.
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry!” Cecelia said, reaching out to steady Aila, whom she had knocked into rather hard.
Aila waved her off with a smile. “I’m verra sturdy. A knock from a slight lady like ye is not likely to make me fall.” Aila frowned. “Whatever is the matter? Ye look distressed.”
Before Cecelia could answer, she heard the store door open behind her, and she knew, without turning, that it was Liam. She could sense it for some reason. Though it was more likely the smile of fondness that came to Aila’s face that indicated his presence.
“What have ye there?” Aila asked him.
“I bought a book of Byron’s poems…for Miss Cartwright.”
Cecelia would have swooned if she were the swooning type. Slowly, she turned to face Liam. When their eyes met, she shivered at the seductive look he gave her. Or was she imagining that?
“You bought that book for me?” she fairly whispered. An eager light filled his eyes and made her heart squeeze.
“Aye. I could not get the picture of how sad ye looked to have ruined yer father’s gift out of my mind. I know it’s improper, but I hope ye don’t mind me doing such a thing.”
Mind?She was so very touched and amazed, yet— “That is very kind of you. But I cannot possibly accept a gift from you, especially one so expensive,” she said, unable to keep her eyes from wandering longingly to the book in his hands.
His eyes seemed to probe her very soul. “I’m sure a lady who is not like others of thetonwould not let a few foolish social edicts stop her from accepting a gift she knows is harmless.”
Cecelia stared at the book, which she had been in the habit of reading every night before bed since the day her father had given it to her. She swallowed hard, warring with herself. She desperately wanted to accept the gift. Itwasharmless. But to accept itwouldbe improper, and not adhering to the rules of etiquette was exactly what had landed her in her current situation.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Aila exclaimed. She took the book from Liam’s hands and thrust it at Cecelia. “Accept it, and consider it a gift from me, not my brother.”
