The Courtesan's Daughter and the Gentleman (The Merry Misfits of Bath 2)

Lady Pamela had mentioned on the trip home from London that she taught piano, violin, and voice to young students. It amazed him that someone with her stutter could teach voice. But Miss Danvers had assured him that Lady Pamela sang like an angel.

“Then you are free for lunch.” He didn’t want to make that a question and give her a chance to find some excuse.

The indecision on her face was almost comical. It was as if he was asking her to run away to Gretna Green with him. “It’s only lunch, Miss Danvers,” he said softly.

She laughed. “I know that. I was just thinking about the propriety of it.”

The woman was certainly overly concerned with propriety as if she’d been raised in a convent or by a vicar, rather than a posh school for girls. He would love to delve further into her childhood to see what had made her the way she was.

“We will be in a public restaurant. It is daylight. There is nothing to be worried about. I guarantee you I am a gentleman.”

She studied him for a minute, then said softly, “I believe you are.”

Why that simple sentence brought such a jolt of happiness to him was disconcerting. Surely, he wasn’t that taken with Miss Danvers.

She grinned and he almost lost his breath. Yes, he was that taken.

“If you are certain you are not concerned about risking your life considering my record with you so far, then very well. It will only take me a few minutes to put the closed sign on the door and fetch my coat and hat.”

He fought the inclination to shout hurrah! As he’d pointed out to Miss Danvers, it was only lunch.

She sat very demurely across the seat from him in his carriage, her hands placed delicately in her lap. Despite his assurances that he was a gentleman, she still looked a bit nervous and continued to lick her lips as she gazed out the window. Every time he saw that sweet little pink tongue run around her lips his cock hardened. He’d never been attracted to the sweet, demure, fragile type of woman before, but this one had him twisted in knots.

Even though she was all sweetness and light, he had a strong feeling that she was steel underneath. To make her own way from London to Bath, and support herself, showed bravado rarely seen in a young lady.

“I told my driver to take us to Sally Lunn’s House since you had no preference. I hope that meets with your approval?”

“I love Sally Lunn’s buns.” Lottie laughed. “I find the need to laugh every time I say that.”

Her joy was contagious. “Yes. I agree. It is quite musical. And the buns are wonderful.”

The carriage stopped in front of Sally Lunn’s House on North Parade Passage, across from The Parade Gardens. Carter stepped out of the coach and turned to help Miss Danvers down. His large hand swamped her small, delicate one. He looked up at her as she took his hand and their eyes met. Her chocolate brown expressive eyes and the touch of her hand did something very strange to his insides.

Carter had never really thought much about love at first sight, believing it was something found in silly romance novels, but it was beginning to appear that not only was there such a thing, but it had happened to him.

Either that or he was coming down with an ague.

Lottie shivered as she took Mr. Westbrooke’s hand in hers as he helped her from the carriage. He looked as startled as she felt, almost as if something unusual and rare had passed between them. She needed to stop this nonsense. Anything more than friendship between her and Mr. Westbrooke was doomed from the start.

She was who she was, and he was . . . a man. She’d sworn on her tearful trip from London over a year ago that for her men and marriage was a crushed dream. If not happy, she’d at least been content with that certainty. Until . . .

Chastising herself, she focused her attention on the lovely restaurant. She’d always loved Sally Lunn’s buns and enjoyed the history behind one of the oldest buildings in Bath. According to the current owners of the bakery and restaurant, the building was erected in 1482, and the famous Sally Lunn began baking her buns there in 1680.

They were seated in the main dining room which was a beautifully decorated space. The walls were painted a pale yellow, which along with the wide windows in the front of the building gave the space a great deal of light. In the decorating, they had kept the essence of the age of the building. Drawings and paintings along the walls of the original kitchen with Sally Lunn doing her baking were fascinating.

“I love this tea shop. If I could, I would have one of these buns every day, but I’m afraid in no time at all my dresses would no longer fit.” She smiled at Mr. Westbrooke as she picked up the menu the waiter had placed in front of them.

“I agree. This is one of my favorite spots, as well. It has so much history connected to it.”

“Are you fond of history, then, Mr. Westbrooke?”

He studied her over the top of the menu. “Indeed. It is my favorite subject. I excelled in it at school.”

Lottie stared at him open-mouthed. “How very odd. It was my favorite subject as well. I won awards every year for the school’s history essay contest.”

“Ah, yes. The private school for girls in France.”

She smiled, warmed by the memories of her school. “Yes, it was located in a small town outside of Paris.”