Page 24 of Her Sort of Scoundrel
Granford stepped up next, then turned and offered his hand to Fiona.
“There’s still time to change your mind and we can take the stairs.”
“Nonsense.” Fiona stepped up and immediately felt the give in the leather beneath her feet. A bit like walking on very firm aspic.
She looked ahead and saw the two women who’d proceeded them giggling at the top. She could do this.
Though he’d turned his back to her, Granford was reassuringly close, and once the conveyance began transporting them, she reached out for the hard broad wall of his back. He immediately reached a hand back and looked at her over his shoulder.
“Take my hand,” he told her softly.
She did, gripping it hard. He stroked his thumb in a soothing motion across the tops of her fingers, and she focused on that movement rather than the steady roll of the moving staircase.
Miss Forbes stepped off at the top, and Fiona noted there were two employees there, seemingly checking to see that riders had not been overcome by the experience.
“Almost there,” Granford told her.
And he was right. Just a few more moments of mechanized movement and she could finally step off.
The young woman employee approached to check on her. “Are you feeling well, madame? The movement can be a bit disorienting for some. I have smelling salts or a sip of cognac if either would restore you.”
Fiona nearly rolled her eyes. She’d never needed smelling salts in her life. “I’m quite well, but thank you,” she told the girl.
Miss Forbes had already gone on ahead of them and begun exploring the products available on this level.
“I had no idea there were so many ready-made gowns,” she said, looking back at Fiona. “These are lovely.”
“Are you truly all right?” Granford offered his arm, but Fiona didn’t give in to the urge to take it.
Her legs still felt a bit like they were made of jelly, but she was determined to walk unaided.
“I’m well,” she told him. And she was until they rounded a corner and encountered the perfumery. The combination of scents brought on a rush of wooziness.
Fiona approached a counter and held on to the edge, closing her eyes a moment to stop the dizziness. Unfortunately, closing her eyes only made it worse.
“You’re not well,” he said as he came up just behind her, the heat of his body sheltering her from the view of others.
“There are chairs in the corner,” he pointed out. “Let’s sit for a bit while Aurelia explores.”
Without waiting for her to reply, he placed a hand low on her back and gently guided her toward the spot. Fiona let him because she feared if she protested, she’d only worsen the queasiness.
The chair was built conversation style, round with multiple seats, each separated by a low arm. She settled onto the side facing the corner, craving the simplicity of the cream papered wall to settle her mind.
Granford sat on the seat behind her. He had an instinct for sensing when she needed the shelter of his body, and yet he didn’t fuss, and she liked that. He said nothing, just waited patiently. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him twisting his head to keep an eye on his ward.
“I’ll be all right,” she whispered. “You can go and see to her if you wish.”
“I’m staying.” He laid a warm hand against her back. “Besides, I think she’s enjoying the freedom of exploring on her own. Seeing her out like this, I realize how confining mourning has been for her.”
“But for your walks,” Fiona reminded him.
“Yes, but for our walks.” He was so close—the heat of his breath caused the loose hairs at her nape to flutter. “You could join us on our walks, you know.”
Fiona half-turned so that her cheek was inches from his lips. “If we’re seen together too often, people will begin to talk.”
“What will they say?”
He wasn’t nearly as naive as he was pretending to be.
