Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Hello.” She swallowed and gazed around, taking in the stacks of tomes she itched to get her hands on. “I was looking for something with a lot of maps in it.”
He narrowed his eyes and rubbed a hand over the stringy white hair on his chin. “Shopping for your father, Lord…?”
“Lord Fletcher, but no, actually. For my brother.”
He nodded, pushing thin-rimmed glasses up his patrician nose. Moving around the counter, he gestured for her to follow and led her down one of the aisles. At the back, the shop opened to a lovely area with a table.
“There are quite a few here, if you’d like to look at them and pick one for your brother.”
“Thank you.”
He walked off, leaving her alone. Placing her own book on the small table, she made her way to the nearest shelf and began scanning the spines, searching for something to catch her eye. Pulling down three, she carried them to the waiting table and made herself quite comfortable.
After staying for about an hour, she made a purchase and waited while he wrapped it up.
“You have good taste, milady. Your brother will be most appreciative.”
It wasn’t for him, but for her. Even so, she nodded and smiled all the while, glancing outside at the storm, which had only increased in strength.
It was going to be a cold walk home.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your assistance today.”
With a slow breath of the last warm air she would have for a while, she stepped back outside into what had to be one of the coldest winters she could ever remember. Holding tight to her purchase and her own bag, she hastened along as best she could with her shoes that did not give good traction on the slick ground.
Not to mention she could feel the wet and cold beginning to seep inside the footwear. Collar up as high as it could go, she kept her chin tucked as she struggled against the battering wind. Thankfully the distance wasn’t that far, but as she reached the walkway to her house there was no ignoring the cold that ruled her body.
Not bothering to knock, she pushed into the building, grateful that the walls at least protected her from the wind. And while the interior wasn’t as warm as where she’d been, compared to what she had been walking through, it was heaven.
Teeth chattering as she moved, she headed straight upstairs and to her room, in desperate need of dry clothing.
“Miss Fletcher.”
Pausing halfway up the stairs, she glanced over her wet shoulder to find a servant down on the ground floor.
“Yes, Devon?”
“Your family has been looking for you. They request you in the sitting room.”
“Thank you.” Skin and bones screaming in discomfort, she continued making her way.
“Your father meant now, Miss Fletcher.”
She reached the landing and gripped the railing, unsure her legs would keep supporting her. “I am soaking wet, Devon. I will be down as soon as I get some warm clothing on, something I am sure isn’t proper for a miss to discuss with you.”
“Let Miss Fletcher set herself to rights,” Richards, the butler, said as he shuffled into view. “She will be along momentarily.”
Not bothering with a response, Rosamunde simply walked, or stumbled, on to her room. It was cold and didn’t stop the noise her teeth made, but she made short work of stripping off her soaked clothing and pulling on some which was at least dry. With a few layers on, she stored her book and saved the paper wrapping to burn at night later. It wouldn’t do much, but something was better than nothing.
She toweled off her hair and did a swift braid of her chestnut locks before taking a breath as she made sure the clothing was hanging over some pieces of furniture to dry.
A snort escaped.
Or freeze.
God, her bed looked so inviting, all the blankets where she could make a cocoon and simply get warm.
Downstairs would be warm though and so, after pulling on thick socks and shoving her feet into a pair of house slippers, she hurried down to the sitting room. Devon hadn’t been lying. Even her father waited there.
The warmth enveloped her like a blanket and she struggled not to moan with appreciation as it began to penetrate the coldness surrounding her.
“You wished to see me.”
“Where have you been?” Her father narrowed his eyes at her.
“Out.”
“In this weather?” He lifted his drink and sipped. “It’s freezing out there.”
Much like my room.
“I’m aware.” Rosamunde made her way to the fire and stood close. “For what reason did you summon me?” She didn’t have it in her to be nice. Not today.
“Mind your tongue, little girl.” He rose and walked toward her.
At one time she would have felt protected by her father. He had made her feel safe, then one day that had changed and security had changed into fear. Now it wasn’t even fear. It was indifference.