Once Upon a Maiden Lane (Maiden Lane #12.5)(18)

Mary stared at him. This man wasn’t at all what she’d initially thought him. He was handsome, true, but under the outer charm was a thoughtful man. He might be an aristocrat, but that very lineage burdened him with duty and the expectations of others. More, he considered other people. Was worried about how his actions would affect them.

She found that to be rather…noble, actually.

Mary glanced away, disconcerted at the thought. She realized that she didn’t know who Lord Blackwell was at all…and she wanted to.

She inhaled and turned back to him, squaring her shoulders and asked the question she’d been wondering about since yesterday in the sitting room. “You were originally engaged to Lady Joanna…and now you’ll marry me. Do you not care which woman you take as wife? Are we both the same to you?”

He bowed his head. “I would’ve married Lady Joanna without complaint, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have an opinion on the lady I wed.” He glanced up at her, his blue eyes piercing. “I find myself…pleased with the prospect of marrying you, Mary.”

“Truly?” she asked softly, her heart warming at his words. “But you hardly know me, my lord.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t,” he replied. “I had years in which to understand Lady Joanna, and now only a little while to discover you.” He stepped closer so that his chest almost, almost touched the tips of her breasts, and she was forced to tilt back her head to keep her eyes locked with his. He bent and murmured in her ear softly. Intimately. “Only a small time to learn your likes and dislikes. Your favorite foods. The thing that disgusts you the most.” He paced around her, and she was reminded of how he’d stalked her in the sitting room. His voice came from over her left shoulder. “What authors you like to read. What you look like when you laugh from your belly. How your tears fall. If you like to stroll in the morning or if you’d rather laze abed. If the sound of an orchestra makes your heart sing or leaves you unmoved. How to make you smile and how to make you sob.”

His breath was hot in her right ear, and Mary shivered, closing her eyes to keep herself calm.

“I want to learn all of you. I want you to know me in return. When I next kiss you, I want you to welcome my lips like a lover instead of a stranger.”

She inhaled sharply. This was like a waking dream, for this man, this fascinating, handsome aristocrat to speak to her so bluntly.

So passionately.

“Do you want that as well?” He was in front of her now.

“Yes,” she said, opening her eyes to meet his gaze boldly. “Yes, I do.”



Henry watched Mary’s serious face. She looked determined, as if learning about him was yet another task that she must perform correctly in order to become Lady Cecilia. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want this to be a duty between them.

It should be a wooing.

To that end he held out his arm. “Shall we stroll whilst I outline my scheme?”

She nodded, taking his arm, and they continued down the garden path, the gravel crunching beneath their heels.

“I propose,” he said slowly, “that we ask questions of each other in turn.”

She glanced up at him cautiously, her brows raised. “Any questions?”

His lips quirked. “Yes, but I have a caveat: the asker must answer the question as well.”

She thought over that for a moment as they neared a marble bench set beneath an arbor. The roses on the arbor weren’t in bloom, of course, but the orange-red rose hips made a pretty autumn picture nonetheless.

“Very well,” she said at last. “That seems like a workable plan.”

She sounded as serious as any lawyer debating a contract.

He bowed, repressing a smile. “Then I’ll grant you the first question.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Why were you at Adams and Sons the day we met?”

Henry looked at her quizzically. The question seemed too simple. “To buy books.”

She frowned sternly. “Yes, but which books? Were you looking for a particular volume? Or had you gone simply to wander the aisles?”

Ah. This was more interesting. “I do enjoy simply walking about a bookstore,” he replied. “How else am I to discover books I didn’t know I wanted?”

A small smile lit her face. “I like doing that as well. I vow I could spend an entire day at a bookstore and never notice time passing.”

“What book were you looking for there?”

She shook her head at him, but the gesture was teasing instead of angry. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you haven’t answered my question yet. But I’ll go first: I was looking for volume seven of The Arabian Nights’ Entertainment in the newest edition, published in—”

“Seventeen forty-four,” Henry finished for her. “I have the entire set of that edition in my library. I bought it at once when I saw the lovely red leather binding the printer used.”

“You have it?” She stopped, turning to him in apparent excitement. “Oh, how lovely it must be to simply go out and buy whatever book catches your fancy! I’d been saving my wages for several months to be able to afford one volume alone.”

Henry forbore to point out that soon she would be able to afford a dozen collections of the Arabian Nights. “I’d be honored to lend you the set.”