Page 62 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“Ah, yes.” Ashford steepled his hands. “After we received the letter advising us of your engagement, Emma and I discussed what you could do to show her that you care about her as more than a source of wealth. The countess likes to read, correct?”
Andrew nodded.
“There’s a bookshop that I once took Emma to. It’s owned by a female proprietress, and Emma enjoyed her time there immensely. Perhaps Amelia would like it too.”
“That’s perfect.” Andrew straightened. “Give me the address. It’s about time I spoil my wife.”
CHAPTER 15
Joceline grabbedhold of the railing, struggling not to go overboard as droplets of water stung her face and waves buffeted the side of the ship, tossing it about like flotsam. She couldn’t help but recall a night like this many months ago, when…
Amelia’s quill froze in place as a quiet knock interrupted her stream of thought. Irritation flared. She’d secluded herself in the library and had been deep into a scene. She was reluctant to return to the real world. Unfortunately, the knock repeated, and then the door cracked open.
“Amelia?” It was her husband’s voice.
She placed the quill on its holder and angled herself toward the door. “Yes, my lord?”
His head came around the opening, and his infectious grin made it impossible for her to remain irritated. “Are you busy?”
She considered. “That depends on what you’re here for.”
She was enjoying the opportunity to write, but it was also important that she maintain a good relationship with him as much as possible, so she would humor him if she could.
He stepped inside, and she noted that he was dressed toleave the house. “There is a bookshop Ashford told me about. I wondered if you might like to visit it with me.”
“Oh yes, please!” She leapt to her feet. “Now?”
He chuckled. “If it suits.”
“It’s always a good time to shop for books. Just let me get a pelisse and put on some decent walking shoes.”
He sat on one of two green chaises. “I’ll be waiting here.”
She hurried to her bedchamber, her heart warm as the ramifications of what they were doing completely sank in. The earl didn’t have to spoil her in such a way any longer. He had her money. Yet he’d chosen to invite her somewhere she would enjoy anyway.
But then the warmth dissipated as she chose a pale blue pelisse from her wardrobe and swapped her shoes. Perhaps he wasn’t doing this to please her, but rather out of guilt.
That made more sense.
He’d married her for her father’s fortune, but he was a decent man and felt bad about it. Ergo, he was doing what he could to make it up to her.
She sighed. It was a nice gesture, but she couldn’t help wishing it came from a different place.
She met Andrew in the drawing room, and they walked arm in arm through the foyer and out to where one of the carriages bearing the Longley crest awaited. He helped her up the step into the carriage and climbed in behind her.
“Is it far?” she asked, sitting on the bench at the rear of the carriage. To her surprise, he slid onto the bench beside her rather than sitting opposite.
“I don’t think so.” He turned toward her slightly. “I haven’t been there before.”
“That’s right. You said the Duke of Ashford told you about it.” She’d forgotten that, too excited about visiting a bookshop to pay attention to the details.
For as long as she’d been alive, her father had possessed enough money to buy her all the books she wanted, but ithad become increasingly difficult for her to get her hands on them in recent years because her mother considered reading an inappropriate pastime for a young lady.
Now, her new husband was not only allowing her to buy books but was supporting her in the endeavor. She smiled to herself. Whether or not the shopping expedition was a product of guilt, it meant something that he was willing to indulge her. She’d chosen well when she’d asked him to be her husband.
Amelia watched the scenery through the window. They’d entered one of the more popular shopping districts and had almost passed through it when the carriage pulled over outside a stone building with a sign attached to the roof that read “Babbington Books.”
Andrew got out first and assisted her down. She peered through the window as he led her toward the building. Rows of shelves ran from the front window deep into the shop.
