As much as she didn’t wish to have a husband, having a home of her own had an undeniable appeal. Perhaps when she was married and settled, Meredith wouldn’t feel so lost and alone anymore. Perhaps a husband was just what she needed.
Yet she still did not wish to marry.
What she truly wished to do was to be a writer and make a life for herself through her books. It was an impossible little dream though and not practical in the least. Still, it was all she longed to do. And Meredith just knew that if she could finish her book and get it published, she would be able to support herself from the income the sales generated. If not at first, then eventually.
She didn’t need much money or to live in a fancy home. A little place with room for her writing desk would suit her just fine. Surely, she could afford that! Unfortunately, she didn’t have the luxury of time to see her dream through. Her book wasn’t finished yet, and she had no way to support herself in the meantime.
With a resigned sigh at her lot in life, Meredith glanced around the lovely little bookshop, watching customers come and go, browsing, and making their purchases. For a moment, she imagined her own book for sale on the shelves there. She could picture it so clearly! The Edge of Danger by M. R. Remington would be elegantly bound in red leather and embossed with gold lettering.
Just before her father passed away, Meredith had even spoken with an editor at Scribner’s Publishing in New York about having it published. Mr. Robinson had read the first few chapters and had been very interested in her story. After saying that her plotline was intriguing and her writing was quite good, he had asked her to return to his office when the manuscript was completed.
Now all her hopes would have to wait indefinitely.
Because in the meantime, she was obligated to marry a very wealthy Englishman she had yet to meet, in order to save herself from destitution. Now that sounded exactly like the plot of a novel!
How would she ever be able to find a husband who would support her writing career, let alone encourage her? It didn’t seem possible.
In general, men were very dismissive of the pursuits of women, but husbands seemed to be downright against anything their wives wished to do on their own. Becoming a married woman who had to bow to her husband’s wishes, while denying that she had any ambitions of her own, did not appeal to Meredith in the least.
She had been most fortunate that her father had been so immersed in his oil business that he’d been content to let Meredith pursue her interest in writing. But then again, her father had had no inkling of just how serious his daughter was about becoming a published author. He had always dismissed her little stories as a harmless hobby and gave it no more thought than that.
Wondering why her life, and those of most women, had to be so complicated, Meredith glanced up from the pages of her book and found the eyes of a man upon her.
He hastily turned away when she looked over at him, but he had definitely been staring at her.
My, my! He was quite the handsome fellow!
He was young, perhaps not much older than she was. He had black hair combed rather rakishly back from a clean-shaven face that accentuated a strong jawline and straight nose. His intelligent green eyes, which had remarkably long lashes for a man, were framed by thick, dark brows, giving his face an intriguing appearance. He lounged his tall and broad figure rather casually against the front counter near the entrance, his elbow propped up on the surface and his chin resting in his hand, while his coat was draped over one arm, hat in hand. He looked a trifle bored.
There he was.
A typical entitled English lord. He just had to be. He carried himself with a privileged air, as if the world and all that was in it belonged to him and him alone.
His eyes turned toward her again. For the briefest of moments they held each other’s gaze.
Then Meredith quickly looked down, a bit embarrassed to be caught perusing him so boldly. She attempted to be absorbed in Tess’s story, but she could still feel his inquisitive eyes upon her, and her skin tingled.
She couldn’t help herself. . . . She looked up again.
As he glanced away, she studied him a bit more.
He was really rather gorgeous. Perfect looking, if the truth was told. She had never seen a man so rivetingly handsome. And it wasn’t just his classically masculine features. It was his entire presence. The man practically oozed charm and strength and decadence. He would be just the sort of man she would write about as a wicked villain in one of her stories.
His eyes moved back to her, and she hastily glanced back down at her book.
It was infuriating the way he stared at her so boldly!
Peeking back up at him once more, she caught his gaze again. This time he did not avert his eyes.
He stared directly at her. A lazy half-smile played across his suggestive lips, almost as if he were daring her to keep staring at him.
Not one to back down from a challenge, Meredith kept her eyes firmly on the audaciously handsome gentleman, yet her heart raced a little and her cheeks warmed under his blatant regard.
His charismatic smile broadened, revealing straight white teeth and the hint of a dimple on one side, and she was momentarily blinded by the impact of it. The man was devastatingly handsome, and he knew it. Which annoyed her. He was probably used to women swooning over him. Flirting with him.
Well, Meredith Rose Remington would not be one of them!
She refocused her gaze, giving him an imperious look. She was not going to be intimidated by him. And just what was he doing there anyway? As he lolled against the counter, he clearly wasn’t looking to purchase a book. It almost seemed as if he was waiting for someone.
Then he winked at her.
Meredith blinked with surprise but did not look askance. She remained fixed on his bold eyes.
How dare he wink at her so brazenly! The effrontery!
They hadn’t even been properly introduced! Shameless man! She gave him a pointedly disdainful and frosty look. His smile deepened, and he looked as if he was going to laugh at her.
Meredith had had enough.
She turned her attention back to Tess of the d’Urbervilles, but the words on the page made no sense to her. Insolent beast! If all the men in England were like him, she would sail on the next ship back to New York and gladly starve on the streets.
The bells above the door of the bookshop jingled, causing Meredith to look in his direction once more. He seemed about to move toward her, which caused her a moment of pure, undiluted panic, but then he hesitated when two young children barreled past him.
“Merry! Merry!”
Her young cousins, Harry and Lilly, had spied her immediately and scampered to where she sat reading.
“Mother told us to come get you, Merry. She’s ready to return home now,” Harry announced, full of importance.
His ten-year-old face was alight with excitement at having been given such a significant task as fetching his older cousin. With his straight brown hair and light blue eyes, he looked up at her with a sense of urgency on his little freckled face.
“The carriage is waiting outside for us,” he added.
“Thank you, Harry.” Aunt Delilah must have one of her headaches if she sent the children in to fetch her.
Meredith rose to her feet, trying to remain nonchalant, as she knew the handsome English gentleman was still watching her every move. There was an expression of amusement on his face as he observed her interact with