The Hope of Love - Meara Platt Page 0,1

of a few more lords and ladies. Felicity’s eyes widened in surprise. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to ward off the icy wind, too curious to end the conversation and retreat into the warmth of her shop. “I’m not certain how I fit in with such exalted company, but they’ve always made me feel most welcome. Oh, dear. I’ll have to find something suitably fine to wear.”

“You’ll look lovely in whatever gown you choose.” He arched a devilish eyebrow, drawing her gaze to his exquisite blue eyes. They stood out, but were a perfect complement to his dark hair and boyishly appealing features. It struck her as quite odd that a man as pious as this vicar should also look so wickedly tempting.

All the women in town fancied themselves in love with him.

She didn’t, of course.

He was too young for her.

Not that she was old, but…well, a spinster of nine and twenty years was considered old by most standards. Certainly on the shelf. What man would desire an old maid like her? The vicar could not have been more than twenty-six or twenty-seven years old. Everyone suspected he had secretly been in love with Lady Poppy and was bereft when she’d married Nathaniel Sherbourne, the Earl of Welles.

He bid her good day and continued on his way.

Once he was out of sight, she hurried back into her shop and firmly shut the door. The place was empty now, the last of her customers having hurried off before nightfall. The sun disappeared early at this time of year.

Since she lived in a set of rooms within the same small house that contained her shop, she had no need to travel any distance to reach home. All she had to do was step behind the floral curtain separating the shop and her kitchen. She crossed into the kitchen to warm her hands over the brazier.

A chill had seeped deep into her bones, but the weather had nothing to do with this particular ache. As the holidays approached, it marked yet another year coming to an end for her. Another year she’d be alone without family.

Another year she’d be alone without the prospect of marrying or having children of her own.

She was so lost in thought, she failed to hear the bell above her door tinkle.

“Miss Billings? Are you all right?” A man’s deep, rumbling voice startled her out of her idle musing.

She turned, recognizing Wellesford’s handsome doctor, Angus Carmichael. His voice carried just that lilting hint of a brogue. Only a hint, however. Although he’d been born and raised in Scotland, he’d lived in England for many years and had acquired a cultured smoothness to his accent. “Oh, Doctor! I do beg your pardon. I was woolgathering and hadn’t noticed anyone come into the shop.”

“Then I apologize for startling you.”

“No need. Um, I suppose you came for the medical book you ordered last week.” She clasped her hands together, fighting the urge to pat her hair or bat her eyelashes at him as though she were a love-struck schoolgirl.

What was it about this man that made her heart flutter whenever he was near?

She tried to gather her scattered thoughts before he noticed they were on him and no longer on the brazier or on restocking her shelves with the new books just arrived from London and still sealed in their packing box.

She had meant to attend to those tomorrow.

Entering the day’s earnings in her ledger could also wait until tomorrow, she decided. How could she count her receipts now or concentrate on anything important while he stood in front of her, turning her brain to pudding? “I received a delivery just this afternoon, but I haven’t had a moment to open the box and inventory its contents.”

“Ah, then I won’t disturb you now. I can come back another day.”

“Not at all. I will open it now.” She hadn’t planned on it, but there was no need to put it off. She strained for any excuse to keep him beside her. In truth, she’d hoped to close up early in order to go through her wardrobe and decide what to wear for the Christmas supper, but there would be time enough to attend to that chore this evening.

She only had one elegant gown anyway, a green silk she’d purchased two years ago on a whim because it brought out the chestnut brown of her hair and the emerald green of her eyes. The gown was quite pretty, but she