Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

the street fair, he allowed himself to glance at Hodgepodge.

Immediately, the deep, dull ache near his heart began. Would Jilly get here today? She deserved to see what her wild idea had wrought. And if she did get to come, what would he do when she had to leave again?

It was a hopeless, painful situation, yet his whole world now focused on those moments when he might see her, be with her.

It was a damned foolish way to live. He’d told innumerable sailors with broken hearts to move forward. There were plenty of fish in the sea, he’d reassured them.

Yes, there were plenty. But there was only one Jilly.

That’s what his sailors had tried to convey to him, too, about the women they’d pined after, but he’d never been able to understand until now.

Love gone awry was a miserable thing and not as easily got over as he’d presumed.

Now Otis was fussing about the flower pots he’d set outside, waving and smiling at passers-by, but Stephen could sense his tension. Every few seconds, he began to whistle off-key and cast furtive glances down the street.

He was waiting for Jilly, too.

Stephen strode over to him and watched him twist a pot forty-five degrees.

“I want this bloom facing the Prince Regent.” Otis pointed at a bright pink blossom.

“He’ll no doubt appreciate that,” Stephen said.

The bookstore clerk stood straight and made a face, then bit his lip, and—

Didn’t speak.

It was so unlike him, Stephen thought. Dear God, they were both pathetic, weren’t they?

“I miss her—” Otis said.

“I hope she’ll get here—” Stephen interrupted him.

Both of them crossed their arms over their chests and looked up the street.

“You love her, don’t you?” said Otis.

“Yes,” Stephen answered, and released a weary sigh.

Otis sighed even louder.

Neither of them said a word as Nathaniel came running up. “Here, Otis,” he said, and handed him a small book. “Miss Jones wrapped this up by accident with my book on the canals of Venice.”

Otis looked down at it. “No! It’s Alicia Fotherington’s diary!”

“Yes, well, I meant to give it to you ages ago. But I’ve been”—Susan walked by with an armful of frilly mobcaps she’d sewn, and he sighed—“I’ve been preoccupied.”

He followed her with his eyes.

“Do you love her?” Stephen asked.

“Yes.” Nathaniel sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, too.

A beat of silence went by, and then Stephen shook himself out of his bleak reverie. “I’ve got to check on the stables.” He slapped Nathaniel on the back. “Grab her while you can, my friend, before someone else does.”

He began to walk off, but Otis stopped him. “Please take this, Captain, and keep it safe for Miss Jones.” He handed him the diary. “With so many books in one place, it’s very easy to misplace one. I know she’ll appreciate your protecting it.”

Stephen paused a moment, then took the slim volume. “Very well. If she comes looking for it, it will be at my house, on the mantel in the drawing room.”

He tucked it in his pocket and remembered how avidly Jilly had read from it. The whole idea for the street fair had come from the diary.

But really, the inspiration had come from Jilly. She’d chosen to believe the undertaking was possible.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Otis said. “The street fair was her idea.”

Stephen nodded and shrugged. “Yes, well.” What else was there to say?

Otis crooked his finger at him. “I’ve made her a surprise.”

He walked with a great deal of panache into Hodgepodge, his green shoes glinting with paste emeralds, his coattails swaying gently.

Stephen followed, amused and touched, of course, by Otis’s devotion.

The ex-valet unrolled a long cloth banner with a giant message painted on it.

He winked. “I’ve enlisted two young men to hang it from the roofline right after the theatrical performance.”

Stephen nodded, not sure what to think.

“So?” Otis waited.

“Good,” Stephen murmured. “Yes, I think she’ll like that.”

Or not.

He wasn’t sure. She was a modest sort of bookseller (modest, not boring, as she’d once proclaimed herself to be).

Otis smiled. “On your way, Captain. We’ve got a fair to put on.”

* * *

“All right, Jared.” Wearing her drab muslin gray gown for the Prince Regent’s amusement, Jilly rode with the stable boy in the shiny black carriage Hector had bought with her father’s money. “I had to wait far too long to leave the house, and I’ve no time to waste. Can I bribe you to leave me alone or not?”

He squinted at her. “It depends, mum.”

“How about this much?” She showed him some money. The amount she’d had in her reticule wasn’t very impressive. But she’d not wanted to take any from Hodgepodge.

He shook his head. “Double that.”

“I don’t think so.” She pointed the candle taper in her reticule at him. “I’d hate to put a hole through my new reticule, but you either take this exorbitant amount of money and go get blindingly drunk at a pub, or I’ll be forced to shoot you.”

“Right,” he said, holding on to the top of the carriage window. “Put that way, I think I’ll go get blindingly drunk.”

She smiled. “Good man. I’ll find my own way home. Did he say if he’d be back today or not?”

“He never committed one way or the other. But if he does come back, it won’t be until late this evening, mum.”

“Oh, in that case—” She cocked her head at the carriage door. “Get out.”

“See you later,” he said, stuffing the money in his breeches.

“Good-bye,” she said, then leaned out the window. “Do you know where he went, Jared? Tell me the truth, or I’ll put a ball in you.”

“To see his fancy lady!” he called to her as the carriage began to roll away. “Although I’m not sure which one!”

“Right! Thanks!” She waved at Jared with the candle taper, and his face fell.

She sat back on her seat and sighed. Why was she not surprised? Hector had a fancy lady. No, not one fancy lady—more than one.

Poor fancy ladies, she thought and couldn’t help an hysterical giggle.

She leaned out and told the driver to take her to Dreare Street. She might have gotten a late start, but she had the rest of the day free, and she was going to take full advantage of it.

She’d become Mrs. Broadmoor again tomorrow.

For today, she was Jilly Jones, fair organizer and woman in love.

* * *

The driver tried to drop her off at the top of the street, but there were so many elegant carriages lined up with members of the ton descending from them, she had to walk an entire half block to the entrance.

She caught her breath at the marvel of the scene. The massive holly bushes were neatly trimmed back, and on either side of them stood two little boys wearing miniature town crier outfits. They’d donned the same sort of black tricorne hats Otis sported as a town crier. In fact, one of those hats probably belonged to Otis.