Her fingers pressed onto the book.
Was it the silly writings in it that had caused her to think such a thing? Yes. It had to be. The very idea that she could please someone like Darby was absolutely absurd, or the notion that he might be interested in her.
He was always dancing with diamonds. He would never dance with someone like her. Someone who was more like an agate or a stone from a stream.
“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” she asked suddenly, willing herself to think of anything else but his lips. His sensual lips that had given pleasure to so many young ladies.
“I am,” he said. “Where else would I be?”
“I shall see you there.” She snuck a glance to the front of the shop. “Now, I must go and meet my sisters. They are at Fortnum and Mason.”
He waggled his brows playfully. “I wager they are buying up the entire shop to prepare for this evening.”
She laughed. “Yes, Mama wants to have a selection of lovely things for everyone to eat. And Fortnum and Mason really does have the best things.”
He smiled at her. “They have never been to France, your family, have they?”
“No.” She laughed again but then realized he was serious. “Why in the devil should we wish to go to France?”
Darby leaned forward and whispered in conspiratorial tones, “Because there are many things in this wide world, Lady Ophelia, that are beautiful, and many of those things are not in England.”
But one of the most beautiful things in the world was standing right before her, she knew. And, suddenly, she wondered if she could have him.
Chapter 2
Peter Abbot, Earl of Darby, took in his best friend’s sister.
And it was as if he was seeing her for the very first time.
The soft gray light of rainy London spilled in through the windows of Hatchards bookshop and he felt…. Well, he did not know exactly what he felt.
He had not seen Ophelia in some time. He remembered her as a child, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d noticed her beyond mere passing.
Usually, when they were in a room together, she was tucked up in some corner reading. He was always engaged in laughter and dancing. Suddenly, he found himself wondering why he had never sought her out in conversation.
She was no beauty by ton standards.
She never had been, and she never would be. Nor had he found her to be particularly interesting, for she kept herself to herself, and now he wondered why.
She gave such a good turn of conversation in the hushed rows at the back of the shop. Her teasing was delightful, and she looked so perfect framed in stacks and rows of tomes of various size. Completely at ease. Yes, that was what she was.
It was something that he’d never seen in her before. Usually, she appeared on edge in company, but here in Hatchards? Well, she looked as if she was a rose that had finally blossomed in the garden.
Her cheeks were pink as if he had caught her doing something that she shouldn’t. That canary. She seemed so…. Well, for lack of an original but accurate word,different. He followed his gaze down to her hand, where she held a book tucked in her skirts. Was she reading something her family wouldn’t approve of? He was tempted to probe, to ask, to tease, but he knew it would be a mistake.
He did not wish to so quickly throw away the accord they had found at this particular moment. He was enjoying it far too much.
Peter did not usually feel so comfortable with a young lady, for he was always aware of the fact that they were chasing his fortune, his title, his hand, and he had no interest in marrying.
Not for some time.
No, he’d seen what a never-ending noose marriage could be. His own parents had been so desperately unhappy. His mother had only found happiness in the release of his father to his eternal fate. He wished to avoid that misery.
No, Peter would not chase marriage quickly. He’d wait until he was a man who was about to be old, and then he would marry and get his heir and bear the last years of his existence as best he could.
But here in this moment with Ophelia, he felt, dare he say that unfashionable word….Happy.
It was strange.