Free One Scandalous Kiss by Christy Carlyle

world. Far-off places she’d never visit, though she could see them in her mind’s eye. Some of her favorite books’ characters were as dear as friends, their stories and landscapes available for a visit whenever she wished.
    And she couldn’t look at the bookshop, each element that made it a whole, without seeing Father in her mind’s eye. He’d been the one ingredient that bound it all together. It had been his dream, his life’s work. With his own hands he’d polished the bookcases, filled them with precious volumes, and carefully formed the elegant script on each brass category plate. She held a vague, fragile memory of Mother and Father dancing a lively jig on a day of bountiful sales, and more vivid memories of how her father would whistle or break into song as he worked, his lively tenor echoing off the towering bookshelves. He was a man who loathed silence, often talking to himself aloud, and she realized what had been missing from the shop hadn’t just been his presence but his noise.
    The latter days she tried not to remember—the nights he would disappear and she’d find him too hungover or despondent to run the shop the next day. The promises and lies about money, the assurances that all would soon be well, that their luck would change. She didn’t wish to recall her father for his weakness of character, but she couldn’t deny it. Especially now. Taking Kitty’s money and kissing a stranger had been her folly, but he’d sown the seeds of the shop’s failure years before.
    A rap at the door doused her reverie, and Jess quickly wiped away her tears.
    Though it was not yet six, the sky had begun to turn dark and she couldn’t make out the figure through the glass.
    “I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”
    The rapping sounded again, this time louder and more insistent. Her visitor wasn’t going to be deterred, it seemed.
    She undid the latch, turned the knob, and was pushed back nearly into the wall. Just on the verge of protesting, she spied two beige creatures sprinting into the shop and disappearing among the stacks. Then a woman emerged through the open door. At least it appeared to be a woman. A hat, the largest, grandest, most ornate creation she’d ever seen, was the dominant feature that moved across the threshold. Then the hat moved and two blue eyes, cool and clear, met hers.
    The woman’s dress, a deep blue creation with panels of lace and velvet, fit her shapely figure perfectly. She finally tilted her head and the enormous hat receded, feathers and a coil of ribbon still settling into place against her dark hair moments after she’d stopped moving.
    “How do you do, Miss Jessamin Wright? You are Miss Wright, are you not?”
    Jess could only manage a nod.
    “Excellent. I am the Countess of Stamford. I believe you are acquainted with my nephew, Viscount Grimsby.”
    For a moment Jessamin stared at Lady Stamford much as she’d stared at Lord Grimsby. Both of them looked so completely out of place in the midst of her sagging shelves of books. The oddity and extraordinary coincidence of having two members of the aristocracy visit her shop in the same day made a giggle bubble up. Jess bit her lip and cleared her throat to stifle the impulse.
    The lady’s pets, two identical pugs, had finished their perusal of the bookshop and waddled over to sit at their mistress’s feet. One quickly tired of sitting and folded his short legs to lie down. Both looked up, assessing Jess with bulging eyes. Lady Stamford watched her too, and Jess wondered how she fared in the fine lady’s estimation. Not well, she imagined. Nothing she owned was fashionable, and her hair was likely a fright after a day at the shop, not to mention the embarrassment she’d caused the woman’s nephew. That, of course, must be why she’d come. Might as well get the apologies out of the way.
    “My lady, I truly regret the incident of last evening. And any trouble I might have caused your nephew—”
    The countess cut her