Love and Other Scandals Read Online Free PDF Page B

threshold to take a deep breath in delight. It wasn’t just the smell of books—that dry combination of paper and printing ink—that reminded her of the library at Helston Hall, her family’s Cornish estate. The library had been the only place she was free to indulge her passion for adventure and scandal, even if only in her mind. Today it was more than that; today it was the smell of freedom. For the next hour, she was free to wander where she liked. True, Bond Street was hardly a wild and dangerous adventure, aside from the risk of being spotted by one of her mother’s friends. But in the confined life of a wellborn spinster . . . any escape was intoxicating.
    Especially when one had a particular errand one was quite keen to fulfill. Keeping her eyes discreetly lowered, she found the shopkeeper and quietly cleared her throat.
    “Yes, madam, may I help you?” He smiled and bowed, patting his hands together. “Are you looking for something special?”
    “Yes, sir.” She smiled prettily. “Is there a new issue of 50 Ways to Sin , by chance?”
    There was a reason she had come to this shop; the proprietor didn’t blink an eye at her request, nor cavil at all. In fact, he might have winked at her. “I just received several copies this morning. Shall I wrap one up for you in the back room?”
    “Yes, thank you.” Joan resisted the urge to twirl around in glee. A new issue, just in this morning! It must be fresh from the printing press. She’d have time to read it at least once before handing it off to her friends the next night. Abigail and Penelope were expected at the Malcolm ball as well. The only thing better than reading the latest issue was discussing it in exhilarated whispers behind their fans. Balls had become quite tolerable since 50 Ways to Sin had appeared.
    The shopkeeper disappeared through the draped door behind his counter, and Joan walked further into the store, piously stationing herself in front of a shelf of thick, dull-looking books with a thin rime of dust. To wander too near the novels at the rear of the shop would be dangerous. She would only end up pining for a book she could neither buy nor sneak into the house. Thankfully, 50 Ways to Sin was printed as a pamphlet and could be concealed under a shawl or even—as Joan had once done in desperation—inside her garter.
    The bell above the door tinkled again, and she hurriedly faced the shelf, tilting her bonnet brim to hide her face. For a moment all was silent, then slow, measured footsteps sounded, heading right for her. Joan pressed her lips together and sidled a few steps to the side, keeping her eyes glued to the shelves without registering any titles in front of her. It was a man’s tread, which meant she should be well nigh invisible to him, unless by some hideous mischance he was a friend of her parents. Somehow her mother was acquainted with every prying busybody in London, and word of Joan’s illicit visit here would wend its way back to Lady Bennet’s ears sooner or later.
    The steps came nearer, pausing at the end of the aisle where she stood. Hastily she plucked a book at random from the shelf and opened it, at the same time she casually turned her back to him. Even though she told herself she had every right to visit a bookshop, her heart thudded hard and fast against her ribs. Visiting Hatchard’s would not alarm her mother overmuch; visiting this bookshop, on the other hand, let alone in search of the contraband she wanted, would see her locked in her room for a month. She made herself breathe evenly, listening with every fiber of her being for those footsteps to turn and walk away.
    Instead they came closer, one loud echoing step at a time. Joan turned a page in the book she held, as nonchalantly as possible. Where was that shopkeeper? She would be wildly irked at him if he turned out not to have 50 Ways to Sin after all.
    “If you give back the paper Bennet signed, I won’t tell anyone I saw you reading prurient