Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,96

it in the hope that someone would answer and could at least tell him if Guinevere had been in the shop that day. It was not inconceivable that they would remember the Duchess of Carrington. Shopkeepers tended to recall when wealthy clients visited, as it was often a source of idle gossip.

“Damnation,” he cursed again when no one appeared.

He turned and swept his gaze around the shops, trying to decide where Guinevere might have gone. Had she visited a friend? Before he could even contemplate the question, the door creaked open behind him. Swiveling back around, he met the curious gaze of a plump, matronly woman.

“Might I help you?”

“Aye.”

She frowned, a common reaction here in London when people first heard his Scottish brogue.

“I’m the Duke of Carrington, and—”

“Oh!” The woman flushed. “Oh yes, of course, of course. I’ve heard about you being Scottish, and oh, dear me. Do come in. How might I help you?” She stepped aside and waved a hand toward the dark store. “A hat for your new wife perhaps?” She smiled. “Rumor has it you’ve wed.”

He was certain rumor had speculated greatly given his and Guinevere’s hurried wedding and the compromising position they had been discovered in. “Actually, Mrs.…”

“Forrester,” she provided.

“I was wondering if my wife had been in the store today? I—” Hell. There was no good way to ask without stirring up more gossip.

The woman gave him an understanding smile. “Did you have a row with Lady Guine—Oh, beg your pardon, I mean with the duchess? ’Tis so hard to remember to call her that now. I have known your wife since she was a slip of a girl.”

“It’s no concern,” he replied, trying to decide how to answer her about whether he and Guinevere had a row. It seemed almost easier to say they had than to explain she was missing, but Mrs. Forrester saved him the trouble by speaking.

“No matter, no matter. Mr. Forrester says I’m too nosy by half.”

Mr. Forrester was undoubtedly correct, but Asher shook his head. “I’m certain that cannot be true.”

The woman blushed. “Oh, it is. Your wife did not come to the shop today, but as luck would have it for you, I did see her.”

He frowned. “Where?”

“Driving a curricle all alone.” She gave him a look that said she did not approve but would not say so, on which he was more than happy not to comment. He didn’t love Guinevere out and about alone, but he had never understood all the restrictions the English aristocracy placed on women. It wasn’t like that in Oban, where he had grown up.

“Do ye mean to say ye saw her on this street?”

“No. I saw her not half an hour ago at Hyde Park on the Ladies’ Mile.”

He could have kissed Mrs. Forrester.

“I had to make a delivery,” she went on, “so I closed the shop early and went through the park.”

He checked his pocket watch and grinned. It all made sense now. Guinevere had gone to Hyde Park during the hour he knew many in her set rode in their open carriages to see and be seen. It surprised him a bit that she cared at all for such a pastime. She had undoubtedly encountered friends and gotten caught up, though it did seem odd that she had been at the park for so long. It didn’t matter, though.

“Thank ye, Mrs. Forrester. I’ll bring my wife to yer shop next week to purchase some new hats.”

“Oh!” The woman beamed. “It will be my pleasure to serve you both!”

He nodded, offered a cursory bow, and climbed back into his conveyance, turning it toward Hyde Park and the Ladies’ Mile. It was a stroke of luck that Mrs. Forrester had seen Guinevere. The park was large, and even if he had gone there, he might not have found her before she set back for home. He would have to talk with her about being out alone so close to dark. He wanted her to have freedoms, but he also needed her to be safe, and neither the park nor the road was a safe place for a woman alone when the sun went down. He’d have to cool her temper, no doubt, but he could think of a million pleasurable ways to do that. He loved her too damn much to let her risk herself, even if it angered her.

Loved her.

It was the first time he’d actually allowed the thought to settle. He loved her in a way that gave