“May I help you?”
“Please. I want Grisenthwaite’s A New Theory of Agriculture. It was published a few years ago, but it is an excellent place to begin.” St. Albans—when had she stopped using “‘lord”? She shook her head. This was not the time to ponder the change. “I do not suppose you have heard of Coke of Norfolk or Holkham Hall?” St. Albans—Lord St. Albans shook his head. “I do not know why I asked.” She took the volume. “Now we are looking for Davy’s Elements of Agricultural Chemistry.”
“I’ve got it here.” He tugged a book out and gave it to her.
“Excellent.” She put it on a table with chairs around it. “We can go over these before you start reading on your own.”
“I also require books on sheep and whisky.”
He really did need a great deal of advice. “We will get there. Although, I must admit, I know very little about whisky.”
A smile grew on his well-formed lips. “My uncle believed that in England it would one day rival brandy.”
“Never having tasted either libation, I have no opinion.” Which only meant she must remedy her lack of knowledge. “Be that as it may, I advise you begin with one subject first then move on to the others. Davy’s book will touch on sheep and other animals.” She took a seat. St. Albans lowered himself into the chair to the near side of the rectangular table. Alice turned the book so that they could both see it and began to explain what was in the different chapters. When she was done, he had a dazed look about him. “Are you well?”
“Yes.” He gave himself a slight shake. “Yes. It is a great deal to take in.”
She closed the book. “If you are going to do something, you should do it well.”
“I agree.” He inclined his head. “What about the next one?”
“It is very much the same but from a slightly different perspective. Davy’s book was developed from a compilation of papers written by landowners”—she did not need to tell them they were Whig aristocrats—“discussing the results of the different farming methods.”
Understanding donned on his lean face. “Which is where I discover what worked in different areas.”
“Exactly.” It occurred to her that she was pleased he had immediately made the connection.
He gathered the books together. “If it was not raining, I would ask you if you would like to go with me to Gunter’s. If you like ices, that is?”
How very nice of him. “I do like them, and we can go today. The rain had cleared by the time I arrived here. I sent my groom back for my high-perched phaeton.”
St. Albans grinned. “You mentioned it to me once. I would be delighted to ride in it.”
He was the first gentleman who had not blanched when she mentioned taking them up. He had, apparently, also changed his perspective on her driving one. “In that case, let us pay for our purchases and go to Gunter’s.”
After gathering up their books, he offered her his arm, and they went to the clerk’s desk where Grace’s volumes were waiting. She handed the man the books she had decided to purchase. “Please wrap these as well.”
Once that was done, the clerk attended to St. Albans’s books. He took all the packages, and they strolled to the pavement where Robertson was walking her pair. Without asking what to do with them, St Albans deposited the packages into the box built onto the back of the carriage as they passed it. He then helped her into the phaeton.
As she settled her skirts, St. Albans climbed into the other side. “I assumed you’d tell me if the books didn’t go into the box.”
Alice gifted him with a smile. One of the few he’d received from her. “You did well. We added it for that purpose.”
“Thank you.” This was the first time Giff had not had to worry about conversing with Alice. It occurred to him that if he had just treated her as a person he would have been much better off. Still, he took what her sister had said to heart. He would become her friend.
She turned toward her groom. “I will see you at home.”
“Yes, my lady.” The man bowed and strode off.
“I very much like your phaeton.” It was painted the same color as the Dunnock bird’s eggs. It had gold piping and seats in a tan-color. A very practical convertible cover was matched to the blue of the carriage. Her dappled gray horses seemed designed to coordinate with the overall color scheme. “Your pair are beautiful. Are they Percherons?”
She smiled at him again. “They are. We looked at a few different breeds, but the Percherons are known for their steady temperament.”
Thus, making them excellent carriage horses. Giff remembered the name she had given her hack also indicated a dependable temperament. That must be important to her. He was dependable. Giff must remember to show her that trait. “They are indeed.”
Alice started the horses and expertly wove her way around the traffic to Berkeley Square and Gunter’s.
She pulled up to the side of the street and a waiter ran out. “Would you like to hear our specials?”
“Yes, please,” Alice immediately responded.
Giff just nodded, and the man rattled off several different types of ices. He glanced at her.
“I will have the raspberry ice.”
“I will try the pineapple.” It was a flavor he’d never tasted before.
Alice turned to him. “Harry said it was very good, but Madeline really only likes chocolate.”
Giff hadn’t known Stern took Lady Madeline to Gunter’s. And on a fairly regular basis it would seem. “I don’t know what I would have done without your help. How did you become so knowledgeable?”
“Grace taught us as she did our sisters before us.” Alice’s light laughter reminded him of tinkling bells. “Even Augusta had to learn, and she is really only interested in languages.” Giff had no idea who Lady Augusta was, yet he suspected she was at the breakfast he attended and probably at one other event. As if Alice knew he was having trouble placing her sister, she said, “She was the lady next to Phinn Carter-Woods. They are married.”
Giff had heard Carter-Woods had wed. “Ah, yes. Dark hair and looks very like Lady Madeline and your sister Rothwell.”
Alice nodded as the waiter returned with their ices. She took a bite and closed her eyes. Just seeing her enjoyment made him hard. If only he could make her look like that. Hoping to cool himself down he quickly ate his ice,. A highland loch would have worked better.
“Will you tell me why your father would not teach you how to care for your future estates?”
