“Pardon me, Miss—” The tall, striking gentleman immediately knelt before Elizabeth, and one by one he handed her the toppled parcels and books scattered about on the ground. Amazed at finding herself in such a position even though she saw it coming but had been unable to avoid it, she accepted the packages in silence.
He stood and cleared his throat. “I understand it is the established mode for a young gentlewoman not to speak with unknown gentlemen, but a proper ‘thank you’ surely is in order,” said he, still holding one of the books she had dropped.
Elizabeth had been in a sour mood all morning, what with her aunt’s insistence she wear that ridiculous pink garb with the flouncy bottom. It was certainly not one that Elizabeth would have chosen for herself, for she much preferred muslin over silk for such an occasion. Then, too, her aunt had insisted that Elizabeth take the carriage to the village when it was a perfectly fine day for a walk. The gentleman’s superior attitude only increased her ire.
“Sir, if you had been paying attention to where you were going, then our near collision would have been avoided in its entirety.”
He bowed ever so slightly. “Your point is well taken.” He turned over the book in his hand and silently read the title. It was but one of several books she had procured to familiarise herself with horse racing. He arched his brow. “My, what interesting taste in books you have, young lady.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish