Page 114 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
“Except that… well, I’m not completely certain that he actually wants love.” His words said that he did. Now she was waiting for his actions to back them up.
“Oh.” Sophie nibbled her lower lip. “I did think it strange that you’re staying here rather than at Ashford House.”
“He told me he wished for us to have separate residences.”
Emma explained everything, from her first proper conversation with Vaughan through to yesterday afternoon, in his drawing room. But before Sophie could respond, someone rapped on the door, and then Daisy stuck her head through.
Daisy grinned impishly. “You have a caller, Your Grace.”
Emma rose to her feet. “Please excuse me, Sophie.”
She followed Daisy down the stairs. It must be Vaughan. She hadn’t told anyone else she was in London. But was she ready to see him?
The instant she stepped into the drawing room, her uncertainty fled. There he stood, handsome and upright as ever, clutching the largest bouquet of blue irises she had ever seen. He offered them to her as she approached.
“They reminded me of your eyes,” he said, a splash of pink spreading across his cheekbones. “They’re the same shade of deep blue—like a lake on a sunny day.”
Behind her, Daisy giggled.
“They are beautiful,” Emma said. “Thank you.”
She couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across her face. She’d always imagined how it might feel to have a man give her flowers and spout poetry inspired by her. Vaughan’s wordswouldn’t be considered poetic by actual poets, but coming from him, they might have well as been a sonnet.
“Will you come for a drive with me?” he asked as she took them from him.
“I will.” Even if she had no idea where they were going. When he was like this, she wasn’t sure it mattered. “Daisy, will you put these in water?” she asked as she passed off the flowers.
“Yes, Your Grace. Enjoy your drive.”
Vaughan took Emma’s hand, pressing his large palm against her gloved one, and led her out of the drawing room, past the butler, who watched approvingly, and through the front door. His carriage waited on the roadside, a box already in front of it to help her in.
“You wouldn’t prefer to drive the curricle?” Emma asked as a footman closed the carriage door, giving them privacy.
“A carriage is safer for a lady in your condition,” he said, glancing at her abdomen.
She warmed, instinctively knowing that he cared for her as well as for the child she might be carrying.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
His face relaxed into a smile for the first time since she’d seen him today. “It’s a surprise.”
“Oh, really?” She searched his gaze, wondering what he was planning. “A good one?”
He twined his fingers through hers. “I hope so.”
They made small talk as the carriage drove through Mayfair. Emma kept an eye out the window, noting when they passed the most popular shopping district. Soon after, they pulled up outside a stone building with a sign attached to the roof.
Excitement stirred Emma’s gut. “A bookshop?”
Vaughan nodded. “A shop that specializes in fiction and poetry. Let me show you.”
He preceded her out of the carriage and, arm in arm, they passed through the shop doorway. A bell tinkled above them, and a plump woman in a navy dress emerged from the back. Emma’s mouth fell open. Not only was this a bookstore, but it was one with a female proprietress.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“I believe I do.” She surveyed one of the shelves, seeing several titles she’d already read and many others she would like to. Her fingers itched to pick them up.
“Go,” Vaughan murmured. “Get as many as you like.”
