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Authors: Kristi Ann Hunter
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his past.
The rocking stopped, and moments later the footman opened the door. Anthony poked his head out and found a scene vastly different than the white-blocked edifice he expected. Instead of seeing Beau Brummel in White’s prestigious bay window, he saw women. Lots of women.
What were all of these women doing on St. James Street? They weren’t supposed to even walk down St. James Street, much less patronize the establishments lining the gentlemen’s road.
A closer look at the shops revealed the glittering windows and wares of stores catering to decidedly female customers. “James! Where the blazes are we?”
“Bond Street, sir.”
Anthony looked up to find the insolent coach driver staring straight ahead. A look to the footman proved that he, too, found the passing traffic of immense interest. “I know we’re on Bond Street,” Anthony growled. “The question is why?”
James looked down at Anthony, eyes wide. “You said you wanted a hat, sir.”
“I wanted a . . . ? I don’t want a hat.” He turned to scowl at the frippery in the nearby windows. “Even if I did want a hat, I wouldn’t come here. I’d go over to— Miss Stalwood!”
Amelia was exiting the milliner, a pink hatbox swinging from her fingertips. A tall woman with a tight black bun showing beneath her plain bonnet stood behind his captivating brunette angel. What amazing luck.
He looked over his shoulder at James, only to find the man once more enthralled with the traffic. Luck had nothing to do with this little encounter. His coachman appeared due for a small bonus.
“My lord, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Amelia stepped forward, shock lining her face, her fingers twisted in the twine holding the lid on her hatbox.
“I must admit I didn’t expect to be here.” He bowed and sent a look in the other woman’s direction.
Amelia’s arm jerked as if she had intended to gesture to the woman beside her, but couldn’t. Probably because her hands were so twisted in string. The woman’s fingers were going to fall off if she kept doing that. “Lord Raebourne, this is Miss Ryan, my companion.”
The woman smiled at Anthony and then emitted the worst fake gasp he had ever had the misfortune to witness. “Oh dear,” she muttered. “I believe I left . . . something in the shop.”
He liked the companion, fake gasps and all. His attention reverted to Amelia and her tangled parcel twine. A single step brought him close enough to reach down and untangle her fingers. The worn gloves bore creases from the string’s loops. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Stalwood. A new bonnet?”
“Oh . . . well, yes. I recently purchased a few new dresses and none of my bonnets match my new pelisse . . . But you don’t really want to hear about that, do you?”
No, not particularly. “Of course. I find it beyond interesting. Do you have any more shopping to do?”
“Not really. Although one can always look around even when they aren’t shopping for anything in particular.” She looked into his eyes. Her shoulders began to pull in a bit and he feared uncertainty was setting in. This woman was just now getting comfortable enough to look him in the eye without blushing. He couldn’t let her retreat back into herself.
“Have you been to Gunter’s?” The popular tea shop was just the thing. The afternoon was warm and no one would think it odd for them to partake of one of the establishment’s famous ices without a chaperone.
“I adore Gunter’s! I’m particularly fond of the chocolate ice. Not very original of me, I know, but it seems to be what I always end up with.” Her smile broadened a bit more.
“I insist you let me get you one, then. I’ll have my men fold down the top of my—” Amelia’s restrained giggle stopped him midsentence. A glance over his shoulder revealed that his servants had already taken care of converting the carriage into an open-air conveyance. Yes, a bonus was definitely in order.
“Shall
The rocking stopped, and moments later the footman opened the door. Anthony poked his head out and found a scene vastly different than the white-blocked edifice he expected. Instead of seeing Beau Brummel in White’s prestigious bay window, he saw women. Lots of women.
What were all of these women doing on St. James Street? They weren’t supposed to even walk down St. James Street, much less patronize the establishments lining the gentlemen’s road.
A closer look at the shops revealed the glittering windows and wares of stores catering to decidedly female customers. “James! Where the blazes are we?”
“Bond Street, sir.”
Anthony looked up to find the insolent coach driver staring straight ahead. A look to the footman proved that he, too, found the passing traffic of immense interest. “I know we’re on Bond Street,” Anthony growled. “The question is why?”
James looked down at Anthony, eyes wide. “You said you wanted a hat, sir.”
“I wanted a . . . ? I don’t want a hat.” He turned to scowl at the frippery in the nearby windows. “Even if I did want a hat, I wouldn’t come here. I’d go over to— Miss Stalwood!”
Amelia was exiting the milliner, a pink hatbox swinging from her fingertips. A tall woman with a tight black bun showing beneath her plain bonnet stood behind his captivating brunette angel. What amazing luck.
He looked over his shoulder at James, only to find the man once more enthralled with the traffic. Luck had nothing to do with this little encounter. His coachman appeared due for a small bonus.
“My lord, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Amelia stepped forward, shock lining her face, her fingers twisted in the twine holding the lid on her hatbox.
“I must admit I didn’t expect to be here.” He bowed and sent a look in the other woman’s direction.
Amelia’s arm jerked as if she had intended to gesture to the woman beside her, but couldn’t. Probably because her hands were so twisted in string. The woman’s fingers were going to fall off if she kept doing that. “Lord Raebourne, this is Miss Ryan, my companion.”
The woman smiled at Anthony and then emitted the worst fake gasp he had ever had the misfortune to witness. “Oh dear,” she muttered. “I believe I left . . . something in the shop.”
He liked the companion, fake gasps and all. His attention reverted to Amelia and her tangled parcel twine. A single step brought him close enough to reach down and untangle her fingers. The worn gloves bore creases from the string’s loops. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Stalwood. A new bonnet?”
“Oh . . . well, yes. I recently purchased a few new dresses and none of my bonnets match my new pelisse . . . But you don’t really want to hear about that, do you?”
No, not particularly. “Of course. I find it beyond interesting. Do you have any more shopping to do?”
“Not really. Although one can always look around even when they aren’t shopping for anything in particular.” She looked into his eyes. Her shoulders began to pull in a bit and he feared uncertainty was setting in. This woman was just now getting comfortable enough to look him in the eye without blushing. He couldn’t let her retreat back into herself.
“Have you been to Gunter’s?” The popular tea shop was just the thing. The afternoon was warm and no one would think it odd for them to partake of one of the establishment’s famous ices without a chaperone.
“I adore Gunter’s! I’m particularly fond of the chocolate ice. Not very original of me, I know, but it seems to be what I always end up with.” Her smile broadened a bit more.
“I insist you let me get you one, then. I’ll have my men fold down the top of my—” Amelia’s restrained giggle stopped him midsentence. A glance over his shoulder revealed that his servants had already taken care of converting the carriage into an open-air conveyance. Yes, a bonus was definitely in order.
“Shall
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