The Unexpected Heiress. Kaitlin O'Riley
Remington, with her long brown curls and chubby cheeks, was only six years old and a shy little thing, peeking out from beneath her wide-brimmed bonnet. Immediately, the young girl grasped Meredith’s hand and held on tightly.
Now with the children at her side, Meredith had to maneuver her way over to the counter to pay for the book, the counter where the impudent and handsome gentleman still waited, watching her with an unashamed regard.
Although now he stood up straight and a wicked smile played across his face. He made an elegant gesture with his arm as if clearing a path for her.
She raised her chin and ignored him, giving her attention to the young female clerk who worked there. As she paid for her purchase, Meredith could feel the eyes of the gentleman boring into the back of her head. She’d never felt so self-conscious in her life.
“What are you buying, Merry?” Harry’s little voice piped up next to her.
“A book,” she responded. “Would you like to carry it for me?”
“Oh yes!” he cried in delight.
She handed Harry the package containing her book. His face brimming with pride, he held the small bundle wrapped in brown paper with reverence. Meredith reclaimed Lilly’s hand in hers and turned to exit the shop.
“Good afternoon, miss.”
Startled, she glanced again at the gentleman with whom she had been having such a strange encounter.
He was now mere inches from her, and she had to walk by him to get through the door. His voice was deep and rich, almost silky as it wished her a good afternoon. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe very well. There was an unmistakable scent about him. Masculine. Earthy. Spicy. Unfamiliar to her. But she had to admit that he smelled nice. Very nice, indeed.
She paused for just an instant, looking deep into his eyes. They were even more remarkable up close. Dark green. Intelligent. Even kind. They also danced with amusement.
She refused to acknowledge that he had spoken to her though. Insufferable man! He deserved to be ignored and taken down a peg.
Meredith walked right by, as if she didn’t even notice him. With her little cousins in tow, she waltzed out the door and into the waiting carriage.
4
At a Loss for Words
Phillip Sinclair, the Earl of Waverly, idly watched the lovely young woman leave the bookshop with the two small children at her side.
There was something about her . . .
She was quite beautiful, with sparkling blue eyes and thick, chestnut hair. The kind of hair he knew would be silky smooth and he would want to run his fingers through. She had a little, turned-up nose and the most luscious lips he’d ever seen. He was positive that kind of mouth was designed specifically to be kissed, while her porcelain skin and gorgeous figure had his mind picturing her with far less clothing on.
But it was more than just her beauty that intrigued him, for he had known plenty of beautiful women. There was something else about her.... She wasn’t English. That was for certain. She reminded him a little of his cousin, Sara Fleming, in that regard. They had the same accent. American. That was it! She hadn’t been in awe of him, as most women were. The girl was definitely American.
Anyway, it had been a diverting little flirtation. He shrugged and went back to leaning on the counter.
“You get prettier every time I see you, Hattie,” he murmured lazily.
The young attendant who worked at the shop blushed, her soft cheeks reddening just a bit. She was a fetching girl with fair hair and delicate features. Not a beauty like the woman he’d just had a staring contest with, but adorable in her own way.
Hattie blushed at his compliment, “Why, Lord Waverly! You turn my head with the things you say.”
“Ignore my son, Hattie. He’s an incorrigible scoundrel.”
Phillip stood immediately and straightened his shoulders at his mother’s approach. Colette Sinclair, the Marchioness of Stancliff, pulled her gloves on as she neared, giving Phillip a hard glance.
“I’ve asked you not to flirt with the staff, Phillip,” she admonished, pursing her lips.
“Oh, I don’t mind, my lady.” Hattie grinned helplessly at him. “Not at all.”
Phillip smiled back before he gave the young woman an exaggerated bow. “You have my deepest and most humble apologies, miss.”
“You don’t have to accept his apology, Hattie. He doesn’t deserve it.” His mother gave him an annoyed look. “Have a good afternoon, Hattie. I shall be at the other shop for a few hours on Monday if you need me. But I’ll be back here on Tuesday to go over the new shipment of writing papers.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good afternoon, Hattie.” Phillip flashed her a secret grin before he held the door open for his mother and followed her out.
When they were settled in their carriage, his mother lit into him. And he knew he had it coming.
“Honestly, Phillip, I’ve warned you before about how you speak to the staff at our shops. So has your aunt Paulette. It is simply not appropriate. These women are in our employ and under our care, and you must treat all of them with the utmost respect.”
“I am sorry, Mother. It was a momentary lapse of judgment. It won’t happen again. You have my word.”
If his words sounded a little monotonous, it was because he had uttered this standard apology before. He had it memorized by rote.
Phillip blamed this recent lapse in judgment on the encounter with the beauty who had just purchased a copy of Tess of the d’Urbervilles. She was a literary type and that kind didn’t usually interest him. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Who was she, and what was she doing in London?
He’d been about to speak to her when the children interrupted. Were they her siblings? They had called her Merry. Merry. He liked the sound of it. The name suited her somehow. It was light and pretty and musical.
“Your word,” his mother scoffed. “Your word hasn’t been worth very much lately.”
His thoughts of the lovely and mysterious Merry were interrupted by the tone of his mother’s voice.
She was still upset with him about the other night. Phillip had already been given yet another dressing down from his father last evening, but his mother still hadn’t had her say in the matter. He’d simply been instructed to pick her up from the bookshop this afternoon. Knowing that he would be her captive audience in the carriage, he had steeled himself for another admonishment about his deplorable behavior. He knew exactly what she would say.
He’d been lazy. He’d been going out too often and staying out too late. He’d been running with a fast, disreputable crowd. He’d been spending too much time with women of a certain reputation. He’d been gambling and drinking too much.
It was time to reform his ways. It was time for him to settle down. It was time for him to take on more responsibility. He wasn’t a child anymore. He was the heir. He had to uphold his duty. He had a reputation to maintain. He owed it to the family.
Yes, Phillip had heard it all before.
Dozens and dozens and dozens of times.
And he had no excuse or reason for any of his actions. He didn’t know why he was behaving as he was. Except . . . why not? He was simply having some fun. Yes, perhaps he was pushing the limits of respectability more than he should, but what difference did it make? He was the heir. One day, all the duties and responsibilities would be his and his alone. He would take up the reins of respectability then.
So what did it matter if he enjoyed himself in the meantime? He wasn’t hurting anyone. He’d studied