He felt it and put his arm around her. “Of course, I want to be alone with my sweetheart.”
When the coach pulled in front of Appleton House on Camden Crescent, Dot lifted the velvet curtain to look at it. After all, it was going to be her home. That first day she’d come here she hadn’t properly observed it because of her excitement over her new friends and trepidation of trying to learn to dance.
Large brass lanterns flanked the glossy front door topped by a fan-shaped window.
“Since my brother and Sir Elvin and Blanks are engaged tomorrow, I wondered if you would accompany me to the lending library,” Annie asked Dot as she climbed down from the coach, assisted by the coachman.
“That would be lovely.”
“I’ll come to your house at noon, then,” Annie said.
“Our footman will escort you,” Forrester said. “It’s no longer safe for young women in Bath.”
Alone in the coach with Forrester, Dot was comforted that he held her close, but she dreaded the kiss she knew was sure to come—not that she didn’t want to kiss him. She did. But she didn’t want to suffer what was sure to be his disappointment over her inexperience.
“What are you and the fellows doing tomorrow?” she asked.
“They had wanted to go to a cock fight, but I’ve sworn off gambling. Forever. So now we’re going to spar.”
She turned to him. “Spar? I’ve never heard of that. Is that something men in would do in London at a place like White’s? I’ve heard of White’s, you see.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “I don’t mean to offend you, my dear, but sparring is most definitely not done at a gentleman’s club.”
“Then it’s something one does out of doors?”
“It can be done out of doors, but we generally do it indoors.”
Her brows lowered. Her lips pursed in disdain. “Are you going to tell me what sparring is?”
“Sparring, my love, is the act of practicing pugilism against a friendly opponent. We do it for fun.”
“It sounds dangerous. I do hope you don’t get hurt.”
“We don’t get hurt.”
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to be alone with you in order to discuss something I learned this afternoon.”
She spun toward him. “You learned something about Ellie Macintosh!”
“I did. I got the direction of her lodgings from Mrs. Starr. I thought perhaps tomorrow afternoon, when we’re finished sparring, you and I could make inquiries. You’ll probably think of things that a man wouldn’t think to ask, things that might be important.”
She was pleased that he thought her capable. “I should be honored to accompany you.”
The coach then drew up before her house. She waited a moment, expecting him to kiss her. But he didn’t. The coachman opened the door, and one of her family’s footmen sprang from the house.
“I shall endeavor to meet you tomorrow at the lending library,” Forrester said as she moved to exit the carriage. Had he slapped her in the face, she could not have felt more rejected.
He hadn’t even wanted to kiss her.
Chapter 9
The two young ladies spent over an hour perusing the shelves of the lending library. During that time they discovered their taste in poetry dovetailed almost perfectly. Though they recognized Lord Byron’s genius, his narrative did not speak to either of them. But each confessed that upon reading Lyrical Ballads, an exciting new world of poetry had opened up to her. “I declare, Dot,” Annie said, “I have memorized almost every stanza penned by Wordsworth.”
A huge smile broke over Dot’s face. “It’s the same with me. In fact, the pages of my copy, which I’ve brought here to Bath, are pathetically limp and crumpled from use.”
“Mine is the same!”
Both women went on to criticize the gothic romances written by Mrs. Radcliffe. “I’m not terribly interested in novels,” Annie said, “but I did greatly admire Pride and Prejudice.”
“I’ve read it three times. I confess I fell in love with Mr. Darcy and giggled excessively over Mr. Collins.”
“I never thought of myself as a romantic until I read it.”
“Who wouldn’t fall in love with Mr. Darcy?” Dot had never given much thought to marrying until she read that book. And now she was ripe for matrimony and her own Mr. Darcy.
Her insides felt queasy when she recalled the awkwardness in the carriage the previous night when her husband-to-be did not want to kiss her.
“What do you prefer to read?” Annie asked.
“Papa says I have well-rounded reading taste, but then he imbues me with many qualities I don’t possess.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I will own a partiality to reading about history though I don’t have a great fondness for the Greeks.” She moved to a shelf that featured history tomes. “I thought I might enjoy Gibbons’ Rise and Decline of the Roman Empire.”
“All those volumes?”
Dot smiled. “Just the first today. It’s in our library at Blandings, but I haven’t read it. Now I fancy doing so.” She picked up Volume One.
“I’m partial to Mr. Scott’s historical novels myself.”
“Oh, I do share your interest in those. When I finish Gibbons . . .” Dot laughed.
Annie selected Scott’s newest novel, and the two moved to the attendant in order to process their books.
By the time they finished, Forrester stood on the pavement in front of the library, the family coach waiting. Dot thought he looked exceptionally fine today in a brown woolen coat the same colour as his hair. He wore it with buff breeches and soft leather boots that had obviously been polished that morning. A freshly starched cravat in white linen accentuated his straight white teeth. Even though his dress could not have been more casual, next to the other men moving through the streets of Bath, his tasteful elegance made him look like a king among beggars.
He addressed his sister. “I’ve come to collect my betrothed. I’ll return you to Camden Crescent.” He chuckled. “I brought the coach because I thought
