The Bookseller and the Earl (The Merry Misfits of Bath 1)

“Yes. Of course.” Miss Mallory laid her hand on Michael’s head, but spoke directly to his face. “I won’t be long.”

While she chatted with the customers, took money, and wrapped books, he brought Michael to the children’s section of the store and pulled out a few books. They sat on the wooden bench situated along one wall near the window.

Even though he knew the boy couldn’t hear, Mrs. Banfield thought they should read to him out loud. He did notice that Michael’s eyes moved from the page to his mouth, back-and-forth, the entire time he read. Was he learning to lip read?

After about fifteen minutes, Miss Mallory joined them. “I think that is probably the last customer of the day.”

He checked his watch. “Yes. It’s almost six o’clock.”

She casually fingered Michael’s hair as he continued to turn the pages of a picture book. “I want you to know I have been searching, asking publishers’ salesmen, and writing letters trying to find books on sign language.”

He nodded. “I really appreciate that. I sent a letter to the headmaster at Institution Nationale des Sourds-Muets à Paris.”

“That

was an excellent idea. I’m sure he can help in your search. Have you had any success in finding someone who knows sign language and can teach it to you both?”

“Since I sent that letter to Paris, I have discovered the Royal School for Deaf Children in London, which is of course, much closer than Paris. I have sent off a letter to them, also. One thing I asked in both my letters to the schools was if they knew of someone in this area who could teach it.” He shook his head and looked at his son, happily going through the pages of a book. “If I cannot find someone, I will have to take Michael to London and enroll him.”

Miss Mallory handed Michael another book when he closed the one he’d been looking at. “Will you stay with him, then?”

He nodded. “I would have to. He is much too young to be left at a school with no one nearby to contact in case of an emergency. As much as I would not want to relocate to London, I would have no choice. At least I can conduct my business from there, so it would not be as much of a burden as Paris would have been.” He grinned. “Except I don’t like London.”

Just then the doorbell sounded. “Oh, I hope this customer doesn’t want to stay long.” Miss Mallory checked her timepiece fastened to her bodice. She stood and shook out her skirts. “It is six o’clock. I will have to tell them they must return tomorrow.”

“There you are. I thought you were hiding from me.” A corpulent man of about thirty years strolled up to them and took Miss Mallory’s hand. “I am here for our dinner date.”

Dinner date? Grayson’s stomach knotted and everything competitive and male in him rose to the surface.

“Good evening, my lord. I didn’t realize it was six o’clock already.” The lie slid off her tongue like warm honey. Here she was enjoying her conversation with Lord Berkshire and his delightful little boy and totally forgotten her ‘date’ with Lord Featherington.

Just the thought of spending the next few hours with the man annoyed her. Not only did she have no interest in his lordship, and never would, but the idea that her mother conspired with Featherington’s mother to send the man to Bath to court her raised her ire even further.

Lord Featherington looked at Berkshire. “Berkshire.” He gave a curt nod.

“Featherington.” He nodded back.

Of course, they would know each other since they were both peers. They eyed each other like two dogs after the same bone. In some ways she was pleased since she’d never had that happen to her before. But she was still faced with an evening with Lord Featherington.

Suddenly, a scathingly brilliant idea occurred to her. She pulled her hand away from Featherington’s sweaty one and turned to Lord Berkshire. “Would you and Michael care to join Lord Featherington and me for dinner?”

Featherington opened his mouth, she assumed to object, but good manners had him shutting it quickly. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Yes. Why don’t you and the lad join us?”

Berkshire cast a questioning glance at Addie. She gave him a slight nod, her eyes boring into him which encouraged him to say, “Yes. That would be very nice.”

“I will join you in a minute. I just need to freshen up.” Addie hurried to the back room where she kept water, a comb, a toothbrush, and tooth powder. While taking care of her needs, she spent the time grumbling about Mother’s interference, and having to spend time with Lord Featherington.

She’d danced with him a few times at various events, and between her mistakes and his, and his constant huffing and wiping his brow, the occasions had been torturous. At least this was just dinner and hopefully, it would go well.

After her ministrations, she returned to the men, feeling less grubby. “I am ready.”

Both men held out their elbows. She dodged them both and took Michael’s hand. Featherington scowled at her. Berkshire grinned.

“Where are we dining, my lord?” Addie locked the store, then dropped the keys into her reticule.

Featherington waved to his carriage sitting in the street in front of the store. “I found a respectable little restaurant over on Wolcot Street that I thought we would enjoy.” He turned to Berkshire. “I assume you have your own carriage?”

“Yes. But it probably makes more sense for us all to ride together. Don’t you think?” His smirk told Addie that he didn’t want her riding alone with Featherington. She still didn’t understand where she stood with Lord Berkshire, or where for that matter, he stood with her. They were friends, of a sort, and now that she met his son, she wanted to help him. Other than that, she had no idea.