Excerpt from The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Likely because you lost blood."

"Or ... yes. That must be it."

"This really can't wait?" I ask as I lead him over to one of the tables crowded in the front of the shop. He carries the cream puff, and it wobbles on the plate as his hand shakes. "You should go home and rest. At least close the shop tomorrow. Or Mr. Brown can supervise the apprentices and we can keep everything simple. They can't muck up a bread roll too badly." He makes to pull the chair out for me, but I wave him away. "If you are insistent upon moving forward with whatever this is, at least sit down before you fall over."

We take opposite sides, pressed up against the cold, damp window. Down the road, the clock from Saint Giles' is striking the hour. The buildings along the Cowgate are gray with the twilight, and the sky is gray, and everyone passing the bakery is wrapped in gray wool, and I swear I haven't seen color since I came to this godforsaken place.

Callum sets the cream puff on the table between us, then stares at me, fiddling with his sleeve. "Oh, the wine." He casts a glance over at the counter, seems to decide it's not worth going back for, then looks again to me, his hands resting on the tabletop. His knuckles are cracked from the dry winter air, fingernails short and chewed raw around the edges.

"Do you remember the first day we met?" he blurts.

I look down at the cream puff, dread beginning to spread in my stomach like a drop of ink in water. "I remember quite a lot of days."

"But that one in particular?"

"Yes, of course." It was a humiliating day—it still stings to think of it. Having written three letters to the university on the subject of my admission and received not a word in reply for over two months, I went to the office myself to investigate whether they had arrived. As soon as I gave my name to the secretary, he informed me that my correspondence had indeed been received, but no, it had not been passed on to the board of governors. My petition had been denied without ever being heard, because I was a woman, and women were not permitted to enroll in the hospital teaching courses. I was then escorted from the building by a soldier on patrol, which just seemed excessive, though it would be a lie to say I did not consider sprinting past the secretary and bursting through the door into the governors' hall without permission. I wear practical shoes and can run very fast.

But, having been unceremoniously deposited on the street, I had consoled myself at the bakeshop across the road, drowning my sorrows in a cream puff made for me by a round-faced baker with the figure of a man to whom cakes are too available. When I had tried to pay him for it, he'd given me my coins back. And as I was finishing it, at this very table beside this very window (oh, Callum was truly digging in the talons of sentimentality by sitting us here), he made a tentative approach with a mug of warm cider and, after a good chat, an offer of employment.

He had looked then like he was trying to lure a snappish dog in from the cold to lie beside his fire. Like he knew what was best for me, if only my stubborn heart could be enticed there. He looks the same way now, earnestly presenting me that same sort of cream puff, his chin tipped down so that he's looking up at me through the hedgerow of his eyebrows. "Felicity," he says, my name wobbling in his throat. "We've known each other for a while now."

"We have," I say, and the dread thickens.

"And I've become quite fond of you. As you know."

"I do."

And I did. After months of counting coins with my side pressed against his in the cramped space behind the counter and our hands overlapping when he passed me trays of warm rolls, it had become apparent that Callum was fond of me in a way I couldn't make myself be fond of him. And though I had known of the existence of this fondness for a time, it had not been a matter of any urgency that required addressing.

Excerpted from The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee. Copyright © 2018 by Mackenzi Lee. Excerpted by permission of Katherine Tegan Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.