Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove #4)(54)

She gave Pauline a strange look. “No. It’s Wednesday. My day to be at home to callers. I expect a great many inquisitive ladies this morning.”

“You don’t want me to sit with you?”

“Best to keep them wondering, I think. If they want another look at you, there’s the fete at Vauxhall Gardens this evening. For now, you may be at your leisure.”

Pauline curtsied as the duchess exited the room.

As soon as the older woman had gone, she whispered to Griff, “What are you doing, standing for me? You shouldn’t stand for me. You saw the duchess’s face just now. How smug she looked. She’ll think something has changed between us.”

“Everything has changed between us.”

Everything changed inside her, at that statement. Her internal organs began scouting for new neighborhoods.

He said, “When you’ve finished your breakfast, get your things. We’re going out.”

“We? Out? Where?” Pauline was aware she sounded something like a yipping dog. But her mind was full of questions.

“You and I. Will go out of the house.” He walked his fingers in demonstration. “On an errand. Did you have some other plans for the morning?”

Pauline had just been contemplating an hour or two of reading, followed by a nice long nap.

“I don’t have any plans,” she said.

“Very good. Meet me in the entrance hall when you’ve fetched your wrap.”

She still wasn’t sure what last night meant to him. Or even what it meant to her. But this morning she couldn’t turn down the chance to spend time with him.

She wanted to be with Griff more than she wished to be anywhere else.

In her heart she knew this meant she was on the verge of something emotional and treacherous—and at serious risk of falling in.

Be careful, Pauline. Nothing could come of it.

For today, she decided to ignore the posted warnings and dance on the edge of heartbreak. Surely she could teeter on this brink a few hours longer without falling completely in love with the man.

After all, it was only an errand.

Except that it wasn’t only an errand.

Oh, no. It was something far better. And far worse.

He took her to a bookshop. The bookshop.

When the coach pulled up before the familiar Bond Street shop front, Pauline’s heart performed the strangest acrobatics in her chest. It tried to sink and float at once.

The cruel words echoed in her memory. I’ll chase you off with the broom.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, accepting Griff’s hand as he helped her down from the carriage.

“It’s a bookshop. If you mean to open a circulating library, don’t you need books? They don’t sell very many of those at the fruiterer’s or linen draper’s.” He tugged at her hand. “Come, we’ll buy up every naughty, scandalous, licentious volume in the place.”

He pulled her toward the shop entrance, but Pauline held back.

Griff looked bemused. “If you’re too proud to accept a gift, I can deduct it from your thousand pounds.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

She chided herself for her reluctance. He meant well. He meant more than well. He’d brought her here for the express purpose of making her dreams come true.

“Isn’t there another bookshop in London? A bigger one, with a larger selection? This one looks rather small.”

“Snidling’s is the best. My family has patronized this shop for generations. They offer bindings done to order, of the finest quality. That’ll be important for your circulating library. You’ll want the books made to last.”

Her heart ached at all the evidence of how much thought he’d given this. This was the extravagant shopping trip her heart yearned for—not a whirlwind of pink in the dressmaker’s shop, or hours spent poring over trays of gold and jewels. And the fact that he understood it meant he knew her.

“You were right yesterday,” he said, more softly. “About Hubert and the hat. I can’t just hand you a thousand pounds, brush the gold dust from my hands and walk away. If this is your dream, I want to be sure you’ll make a go of it.”

Oh, Griff.

“I can’t go in there,” she blurted out.

“But of course you can.”

“No, I mean I’m . . . I’m not welcome there.”

His face went serious. “What makes you say that?”

There was nothing for it but to tell him the truth. As Pauline related the tale, he received it with a stony, impassive expression. It hurt to own up to the humiliation. But if she were going to refuse his help, he deserved to know why.

“So you see, I can’t go in. Not this shop.”

He didn’t answer her. Not in words. When his footman opened the door, Griff ushered her into the bookshop with a firm hand.

The shopkeeper rushed out from behind the counter to greet him with a deep bow. “Your grace. What an honor.”

Griff removed his hat and placed it on the counter.

“How may I serve you this morning, your grace?”

“This is my mother’s friend, Miss Simms. She is looking to acquire some books for her personal library. I believe you made her acquaintance earlier this week.”

Snidling’s gaze flicked to Pauline and his tongue darted out in a reptilian manner. “Er . . . I’m afraid I don’t recall, your grace. Please forgive me.”