Page 15 of The Gentleman's Seduction
“My library, while extensive, is lacking in books that entertain. I thought you could help me add to my collection. Are you up to the challenge?” After last night, he had a feeling that books would cheer her up.
She nodded enthusiastically and practically sprinted to the door. Again, his heart gave a strange flutter as he saw the joy on her face. He followed her inside and paused to take in the clublike atmosphere of the shop. There was a fireplace with the day’s papers spread out for reading. Benches lined the walls for servants to wait upon their masters and mistresses. The shop was warm and inviting, and quite a few people had stepped inside to escape London’s bitter winter. Livvy was already plucking titles from the shelves, and she returned to him with a stack nearly up to her chin.
“Set them down. Let’s have a look.” He gestured to the two chairs by the fire, and he moved the papers out of the way. Livvy placed the books down and picked up the top novel, handing it to him.
“Roche’sThe Discarded Son?”
“It’s a horror tale; I thought you might prefer that to Gothic novels.”
He chuckled. “NoMysteries of Udolpho,eh?” He had heard of Mrs. Radcliffe’s Gothic novels many times, but he’d never read them.
She bit her lip. “No, not unless you want that.”
“What’s next?” He chose another book. “The Mutual Attachment?”
“Oh that’s…” She tried to take it from him, but he kept it out of her reach.
“A romantic novel?” he asked as he flipped through the pages.
“Yes. I thought it might be for me.”
“Then we must purchase it, of course.” He picked up the next book, which he realized was actually a trio of slender volumes bound in leather and trimmed in gilt.
“Glenarvon.” She whispered the title, clearly scandalized, judging from the red flush of her cheeks.
He chuckled again, stroking the spine of the first volume. “Lady Caroline Lamb’s thinly disguised tell-all. The titular fellow is Lord Byron, I hear. She thought it would resurrect her dead social life, but it has had the opposite effect.”
“Yes, quite true. But I’ve always longed to read them.” She collected the rest of the books, and he took them from her.
“Allow me. Please, take another look and make sure there aren’t any others that you wish for me to purchase.”
“These are plenty.”
He quirked a brow. “Are you sure? I don’t mind and can easily afford more.”
She bit her lip in a way that filled him with a desire to take her in his arms, but he resisted. “Go on,” he encouraged and shooed her away.
She returned to the shelves, her head tilted at an angle to better read the spines. Martin carried the chosen books to a bookshop clerk, who began wrapping them and tabulating the prices. By the time Livvy returned with a second stack of books, the clerk’s eyes were round with delighted surprise. Martin summoned his coach again and had the books carefully loaded into a trunk at the back of the conveyance.
“Where are we off to next?” Livvy asked, her spirits certainly brightening a bit.
“We still need to visit a shoemaker and a milliner. Then I must run an errand while you remain at the house.”
Her smile wilted a little, but she didn’t argue. He couldn’t tell her about his secret errand. If he could take her, he would have, but ladies did not visit Tattersall’s horse auction house.
I will buy her the most beautiful mare in London, and she will ride beside me with pride in Hyde Park.
Two hours later, he deposited Livvy back at his house. It took three footmen to carry the massive hatboxes, dress boxes, shoeboxes, and the packages of books inside. Once the carriage was emptied, he instructed his coachman where next to go.
The auctioneering yard at Tattersall’s consisted of many stables, loose boxes, and an enclosure for watching the paces of thoroughbreds put up for sale. Martin walked past the enclosure, noticing a bust of King George IV in the cupola in the center. Despite the cold weather, there were quite a few men watching the horses in the pacing enclosure.
“Banks!” someone called out.
Martin turned to see a familiar face. “Lord Sheridan!” He clasped Cedric Sheridan’s hand. The viscount grinned and pointed toward the enclosure.
“Here for a piece of horseflesh? I have one to sell if you are.”
“I am, actually.” Martin followed Cedric’s pointing hand. There was a dappled gray mare with a black mane and black stockings that was proudly prancing around.
