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“There is a shop my aunt suggested. We shall start there.”
Her lips curved slowly, exposing a line of perfect teeth. She sighed and finally removed her hand. “Splendid.”
Something was afoot. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was sure by the end of the excursion, it would be obvious what Miss Vivian was up to.
Despite his lack of plan, the first shop they arrived at proved to be delightful. There were books with sketches of every imaginable bird that populated England. He purchased a rather intriguing guide to where one could find rare species. In addition to paintings of birds, a large collection of feathers filled one wall which kept Alex’s attention.
The trio of women remained there for a long time, taking in every single item while he studied the offerings at the counter.
“I am Douglas Clark, and I own this shop,” the shopkeeper introduced himself, his gaze on the women the entire time. “I find it quite interesting for so many women to be enamored with ornithology of late. Are you a birder yourself, sir?”
Alex shook his head. “Not as much as I would like. My aunt, however, is an avid birdwatcher and is planning an excursion. The lady in the middle will be joining us.”
At hearing their conversation, Vivian walked over to them. “May I ask, sir, what do you suggest I purchase for such expedition?”
The man instantly came to life and stood taller, his narrow chest puffing out. “If you would look at these...” He motioned to the display of spyglasses. “I suggest a small light one for your delicate hands, miss.”
By the time they’d emerged, even Penelope had purchased items. The shopkeeper’s cheeks were a light pink from all the attention, and Alex wondered how long before the man would stop beaming.
The carriage swayed softly side to side as they traveled on the cobblestone roads to a haberdasher’s where the ladies would be able to find sturdy, warm cloaks.
“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Vivian asked once again, leaning close. “I have to admit, meeting Mr. Clark made me excited to bird-watch. He is most passionate about it.”
Alex looked across to the other women, but they were discussing the first shop, not paying them much mind.
"I hope you will help me choose the perfect cloak, Mr. Yarnsby.”
“Alex, please. And yes of course. It will be cold out.”
Her eyelids lowered, and he was almost sure she looked to his lips. “Will you ensure I remain warm?”
Something happened in his mouth, and he choked on his own saliva. It took several coughs before he could breathe normally. “Y-yes, of course.”
Very slowly, her gaze lifted to meet his. “Good.”
Never before had a single word brought on such a reaction. His body tightened, and to his dismay, his sex reacted in the most unfortunate manner.
The woman had obviously not meant to be seductive, judging by the way she now peered out the window, remarking on the last time she’d visited a shop they drove past. Penelope added an anecdote about her tripping on her way out.
The soft chuckles should have eased his discomfort. Unfortunately, Vivian’s throaty sounds caused the opposite reaction.
Alex mentally calculated how long before they arrived, hoping to be in a better way and able to stand without bringing his predicament to the ladies’ attention.
“I’ll require sturdy boots as well, don’t you think, Mr. Yarnsby?” Vivian lifted her foot. Her skirts slipped, and he caught a glimpse of her calf before she lowered it.
He groaned and leaned forward.
“Oh no,” Penelope exclaimed. “Are you unwell?”
“No,” he replied with too much force. “I am thinking.”
The women studied him, so he made a show of pretending to consider what Vivian had asked. If only he could remember what the question was.
Vivian sighed. “Penelope, we should both purchase sturdy boots. If we are to venture about in the country, it is necessary.”
“Yes,” Alex finally said, letting out a breath. Thinking of ugly, sturdy boots finally helped his arousal diminish.
Upon arriving at the haberdasher’s, he allowed the women to walk ahead of him, and he hesitated at the door. The coachman rubbed his hands together and peered at him. “If I may, sir, I will purchase myself a cup of hot wassail to warm up.” He pointed to a stand where an older couple stirred a pot over a small coal stove.
