Chapter Two

L iddy watched Alec shake hands with the older man who, now that she'd had time to give it some thought, seemed somehow familiar to her. After the gentleman left, Alec shut the door and started toward her.

Liddy stood. It was past time she and Phoebe were on their way. She had already tarried too long, but Liddy had dearly hoped for more time in which to speak to Alec. While his keen blue gaze and shining dark hair first drew her, their conversations had revealed the rapier-sharp intelligence behind his looks as well as beliefs, so similar to her own, for which he was willing to sacrifice his comfort and his safety.

She held the book out to him. "I do appreciate you allowing me to read Mr. Burke's words. It's reassuring to know that men like him exist in England, men who understand our frustration and desire to rule ourselves."

His hand covered hers for a lingering moment. "You know you would be welcome to take this with you."

She tilted her head. "And you know why I cannot."

His expression sobered. "I worry about your current situation, Liddy. Your father does not strike me as an overly patient man."

Phoebe now stood near the door, glancing out the window and motioning for Liddy to hurry.

"He is not patient. I must go, Alec."

He grasped her hand once more. "Will you be at the Baker-Whites' ball? I understand it is to be a masked affair to help dispel some of the gloominess of winter."

"I will. My father has mentioned plans to have a ball at our home before spring. It is there I anticipate he hopes to announce my engagement to MacGill." Liddy glanced yet again to Phoebe's frantic waving. "I must go, Alec."

He released her hand with a smile. "I shall see you at the ball."

"How will I recognize you?"

"I will have on a red cloak and a silver mask."

"Liddy!" Phoebe called. "Our fathers are on the square."

Alec grabbed a book and pressed it into Liddy's hands. "Take this with you. I doubt your father can find cause to object."

She took the book from him, pressed it against her bodice, and hurried to the front of the store. Liddy glanced back at Alec as she stepped through the doorway. The heat in his gaze made her catch her breath. He was a far cry from Iain MacGill, but her father would never accept Alec Kirkwood as a potential suitor... if that were indeed even in Alec's mind. Perhaps she presumed too much on the few opportunities they'd had to converse. Perhaps he was only being polite, as he would be to any customer in his bookshop. Oh, but she hoped courtesy was not his only motivation.

"Let us go to Madame Souster's," Phoebe said, taking Liddy's arm. "She has new patterns in from France."

The destination allowed them to put distance between them and their fathers, although Liddy was quite positive her father would question her at dinner about where she had spent her day. As long as she did not have to face him right away, she was content. Her heart still beat more heavily than normal, and the only cause she could imagine was the feel of Alec's hand over hers.

His was not the soft, pampered grasp of either her father or, she imagined, Iain MacGill. Neither were Alec's hands rough like a laborer's might be. His grasp had been firm, his fingers lean and capable. A pleasant shiver traced its way down her spine. What might it be like if he touched more than her hand?

"Liddy!" Phoebe tugged on her. "You are about to walk right past the door. Where is your mind?"

When her friend laughed at the tail end of her comment, Liddy narrowed her gaze. "I was merely thinking about whether she might have my gown done for the Baker-Whites' ball."

Phoebe snorted. "I scarce believe that. I suspect your mind is still back at Little's Bookstore thinking of a certain bookseller."

"I am thinking about the book he loaned me."

"Really?" Phoebe arched her brows. "What book might that be?"

Liddy opened her mouth to respond and had to glance down at the spine of the book she held. " The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer as compiled by Thomas Tyrwhitt."

"You had to look. You didn't even know." Phoebe laughed at her.

"Well, I would have if you had not been dragging me down the street so I had no time before now to look."

"Yet you were thinking about it? Would it be ‘The Wife of Bath's Tale'... or her prologue?"

Phoebe was so much brighter than she allowed people to believe. Liddy laughed and shook her head. "I'm not sure what Alec was thinking loaning me this particular book. The only saving grace might be that I have serious doubts that my father has ever read a word of it. His eyes are far too focused on his ledgers."

"Let us go inside. Our fathers are still walking in this direction. I think it would be best if we were intensely engaged in the latest fashions from France should they decide to check on us here."

Liddy dared not look back. "Agreed."

As the bells above the store tinkled merrily at their entrance, Madame hurried toward them. "Ah, mademoiselles! You are just in time. I have received new drawings from Paris and a wonderful shipment of cloths you must see!"

Liddy was more than willing to lose herself in examining the fashion plates and imagining the rich bolts of cloth transformed into dresses they might wear through the upcoming year. She had a gut feeling that there might be precious little cloth to be had a few months from now.

Yet, even as she let the silky fabric slip through her fingers, her thoughts darted back to Alec. She truly hoped she would see him at the masked ball. With some careful maneuvering, she might even be able to spend a few minutes alone with him. What would he think of her costume? She would have to be certain her father didn't see it before she departed their home.