He met her haughty glare with one of his own. "I don't care if you're bloody Princess Charlotte. Get out of my shop."
Miranda narrowed her eyes before she moved to leave. It was bad enough that he'd insulted her. But to impugn the memory of the princess- it was beyond the pale. "You have not heard the end of this, sir."
"Out!"
She took Olivia's arm and left the premises in a huff, giving the door a good slam just to be contrary. "Can you believe him?" she said once they were safely outside. "That was appalling. It was criminal. It was- "
"A gentlemen's bookshop," Olivia cut in, looking at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted a spare head.
"And?"
Olivia stiffened at her nearly belligerent tone. "There are gentlemen's bookshops, and there are ladies' bookshops. It's the way of things."
Miranda's fists curled into tight little balls. "It's a bloody stupid way, if you ask me."
"Miranda!" Olivia audibly gasped. "What did you just say?"
Miranda had the grace to blush at her foul language. "Do you see how upset he made me? Have you ever known me to curse aloud before?"
"No, and I'm not sure I want to know how much cursing you're doing in your mind."
"It's asinine," Miranda fumed. "Absolutely asinine. He had something I wanted to buy, and I had the money to pay for it. It should have been a simple matter."
Olivia glanced down the road. "Why don't we just go to the ladies' bookshop?"
"There is nothing I would rather do under normal circumstances. I certainly would prefer not to patronize that dreadful man's store. But I doubt they will have the same copy of Le Morte d'Arthur, Livvy. I'm certain it's a singular item. And worse- " Miranda's voice rose as the injustice of it all sank in more firmly. "And worse- "
"It gets worse?"
Miranda shot her an irritated look but nonetheless replied, "Yes. It does. The worst of it is, even if there were two copies, which I'm quite certain there are not, the ladies' bookshop probably would not carry one, anyway, because no one would think that a lady would wish for such a book!"
"They wouldn't?"
"No. It's probably full of Byron and Mrs. Radcliffe novels."
"I like Byron and Mrs. Radcliffe novels," Olivia said, sounding vaguely affronted.
"So do I," Miranda assured her, "but I enjoy other literature as well. And I certainly do not think it is the place of that man"- she jabbed an angry finger toward the bookshop window- "to decide what I may or may not read."
Olivia stared at her for a moment, then politely asked, "Are you quite done?"
Miranda smoothed her skirts and sniffed. "Quite."
Olivia's back was to the bookshop, and she sent a rueful glance over her shoulder before placing a comforting hand on Miranda's arm. "We'll get Father to buy it for you. Or Turner."
"That's not the point. I cannot believe you're not as upset about this as I am."
Olivia sighed. "When did you become such a crusader, Miranda? I thought I was meant to be the unrestrained one of the duo."
Miranda's jaw began to ache from clenching. "I suppose," she nearly growled, "that I have never had anything to get this upset about before."
Olivia's head drew back, just a touch. "Remind me to take pains not to upset you in the future."
"I'm going to get that book."
"Fine, we'll just- "
"And he is going to know that I've got it." Miranda gave the bookshop one last belligerent stare and then strode off in the direction of home.
"Of course I'll buy the book for you, Miranda," Turner said congenially. He'd been enjoying a rather leisurely afternoon, reading the newspaper and pondering life as an unattached gentleman, when his sister had burst into the room, announcing that Miranda desperately needed a favor.
It all been rather entertaining, actually, especially the death stare Miranda had bestowed upon Olivia at her use of the word desperate.
"I don't want you to buy it for me," Miranda ground out. "I want you to buy it with me."
Turner sat back in his comfortable chair. "Is there a difference?"
"A world of difference."
"A world," Olivia confirmed, but she was grinning, and he rather suspected she didn't see the distinction, either.
Miranda threw her another glare, and Olivia actually backed up and exclaimed. "What? I'm supporting you!"
"Don't you think it's wrong," Miranda continued ferociously, returning to both her diatribe and his face, "that I cannot shop in a certain store simply because I am a woman?"
He smiled lazily at her. "Miranda, there are certain places where women cannot go."
"I am not asking to enter one of your precious clubs. I merely wish to purchase a book. There isn't anything remotely unsuitable about it. It is an antique, for heaven's sake."
"Miranda, if that gentleman owns that shop, he can decide who he does and doesn't want sell to."
She crossed her arms. "Well, perhaps he shouldn't be allowed to. Perhaps there ought to be a law that says that booksellers cannot bar women from their stores."
He raised an ironic brow at her. "You haven't been reading that tract by Mary Wollstonecraft, have you?"
"Mary who?" Miranda asked in a distracted voice.
"Good."
"Don't change the subject, please, Turner. Do you or do you not agree that I should be allowed to buy that book?"
He sighed, quite exhausted by her unexpected stubbornness. And over a book. "Miranda, why should you be allowed in a gentlemen's bookshop? You can't even vote."
Her sputter of outrage was colossal. "And that's another thing- "
Turner quickly realized that he had made a tactical error. "Forget I mentioned suffrage. Please. I'll go with you to buy the book."
"You will?" Her eyes lit up and glowed soft and brown. "Thank you."
"Shall we go on Friday? I don't believe I'm engaged for the afternoon."
"Oh, I want to go, too," Olivia piped in.
"Absolutely not," Turner said firmly. "One of you is all I can manage. My nerves, you know."
"Your nerves?"
He gave her A Look. "You try them."
"Turner!" Olivia exclaimed. She turned to Miranda. "Miranda!"
But Miranda was still focused on Turner. "Could we go now?" she asked him, giving every impression of not having heard a word of their squabble. "I don't want that bookseller to forget about me."
"Judging from Olivia's rendition of your adventure," Turner said wryly, "I doubt that is likely to happen."
"But could we please go today? Please. Please."
"You do realize you're begging."
"I don't care," she said promptly.
He pondered this. "It occurs to me that I could use this situation to my advantage."
Miranda gave him a blank look. "What would be the point of that?"
"Oh, I don't know. One never knows when one might want to call in a favor."
"Since I have nothing you could possibly want, I advise you to forget your nefarious plans and simply take me to the bookshop."
"Very well. Let's be off."
He thought she might jump with glee. Good Lord.
"It's not far," she was saying. "We can walk there."
"Are you certain I cannot come with you?" Olivia asked, following them into the hall.
"Stay," Turner ordered benignly as he watched Miranda charge the door. "Someone will need to call the watch when we don't return in one piece."
Ten minutes later, Miranda was standing in front of the bookshop from which she'd been ejected earlier that day.
"Gad, Miranda," she heard Turner murmur beside her. "You look a bit a frightening."
"Good," she replied succinctly, and she stepped forward.
Turner placed a restraining hand on her arm. "Allow me to enter before you," he suggested, an amused glint in his eye. "The mere sight of you may send the poor man into an apoplectic fit."