Chapter 5

Excitement swirled in Ada’s stomach as soon as she woke the next morning. She tried to enjoy her breakfast, but found it hard to sit still. Today, she would see Mr. Gibbs again, perhaps for the very last time since his business with Between the Pages would be completed. He’d have no reason to stop by again. Unless he chose to. Which she supposed he might since he did like to read and might need a new book once he finished the one he was buying today and–

Oh, why was she getting wound up over this? He was just another customer.

A handsome one, to be sure, and one who’d happened to help her too. But it was ludicrous of her to make more of their brief encounter than that. It was certainly irrational of her to let his impending visit tangle her nerves.

“Is something the matter?” Uncle James inquired.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because we’re having kipfels and you always eat them with gusto, except you’ve barely eaten more than two bites this morning.”

Ada looked at her crescent shaped pastry, fresh from the bakery next door. She’d sliced it open and buttered the inside, just as she liked it. “I’m afraid I don’t have much appetite today.”

“Oh?”

“There’s still the embossing to be done on Mr. Gibbs’s order.”

“I thought you finished it yesterday.” Uncle James’s spoon clinked against his teacup as he added sugar and stirred. “It doesn’t usually take you this long to complete a binding.”

Ada groaned and sent him a helpless smile. “I couldn’t decide whether to make the spine simple or decorative. The floral motifs I designed would look pretty against the blue background, but what if he thinks it too feminine?”

Uncle James sipped his tea. “I believe Mr. Gibbs will appreciate a personal touch. Use the stamps you’ve designed, Ada.”

For some peculiar reason, doing so caused her heart to beat faster. She nodded and took another bite of her kipfel before excusing herself from the table. “I’d best get on with it then. The gold paint needs time to dry, and it’s already nearing eight o’clock.”

Leaving her uncle to finish his breakfast, she descended the stairs to the storage room and crossed to the heavy worktable she used. The books she’d bound the previous day were neatly positioned side by side. Ada checked the volumes to make sure they were ordered correctly then searched her collection of stamps until she found the right ones.

She opened the cover of the first book and placed it over a wooden block before cleaning the surface with a damp cloth. Using a ruler as a spacer, she heated the first stamp, positioned it, and gave it a few sharp hits with a hammer before checking the imprint. A lovely border had appeared with floral arrangements in each of the corners. They were joined by thin lines running the length of each side.

Satisfied, Ada repeated the stamping for the back of the book as well as for the other volume before stamping the spine with floral imprints to match. Once this was completed she went to work preparing the titles, complete with volume number and author name. Letters were carefully positioned in a tray and locked into place before being correctly aligned and stamped, both on the front and on the spine.

“How’s it coming along?” Uncle James inquired when he came downstairs.

Ada looked up from the bowl she’d just filled with some egg whites she meant to use as adhesive glair. She grabbed a brush. “Very well, thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, shall I?” He unlocked the door leading into the shop and stepped through it, pausing only briefly to wish her good luck before shutting the door behind him.

Alone again, Ada painted on the glair with swift strokes then left it to dry while preparing the gold leaf.

She straightened briefly to rotate her shoulders and stretch her arms before bowing over the table once more. Moving with practiced ease, she laid the gold leaf over the areas she had prepared and brushed it with oil to secure it. Lining up the stamps she’d initially used with the marks already made, she took a deep breath and impressed the gold into those areas.

Please be perfect.

It was funny, in a way, how she always dreaded mistakes no matter how many times she completed a binding. But she prided herself on perfection – on completing exceptional work – and did not want to discover an offset between the initial indentation and the subsequent one, or a variance in the gold. Unable to accept such a thing or deliver it to a paying customer, she’d have to start over.

Lifting her hand, she removed the stamp and set it aside so she could brush the excess gold away. So far, so good. She expelled a slow breath and continued her work, imprinting the rest of the gold until she’d completed her task. A light dusting of French chalk was added to help remove the residue from the oil, and this was then wiped away with a clean cloth.

Ada took a slow breath and expelled it. Her lips quirked and she finally smiled.

Perfect.

The door to the shop opened and Uncle James popped his head into the room. “Are you almost finished?”

“Yes.” Ada stood and stepped back from the table so she could admire her work properly. “It’s all done.”

“Good.” He glanced at the books. “Those look beautiful, Ada. I dare say it’s some of your finest work yet. But I want you to eat. That’s why I came. To let you know it’s already noon.”

“Is it?” Ada glanced at the clock behind her. “Heavens, time certainly knows how to fly. Shall I bring some food down from upstairs so we can eat here?”

“How about we purchase a couple of mutton pies from next door instead?”

Ada grinned in response to the hopeful look in her uncle’s eyes. It was no secret that neither of them was a good cook, and whatever she offered to make would be boring at best, inedible at worst. She nodded. “An excellent suggestion. I’ll go and purchase them right away.”

It was convenient having a bakery next door, though possibly detrimental to one’s figure in the long term, Ada mused as she paid for the fresh pies. The paper in which they were packed was warm to the touch, and the scent filling her nostrils made her eager to taste the food.

She handed one to Uncle James as soon as she returned to the shop. Since they were the only two people present, they chose to eat at the counter instead of retreating to the back room. Ada bit into her pie and savored the hearty chunks of tender meat that spilled from beneath the flaky crust.

Delicious.

She ate the entire thing in less than ten minutes and was just dusting crumbs from her fingers when the front door opened and Mr. Gibbs entered to the bell’s happy chime. Ada took a sharp breath and slid off the stool on which she’d been sitting. Feeling incredibly stiff and awkward, she clutched her hands and tried to ignore the sudden onslaught of topsy-turviness in her stomach.

Impeccably dressed in a forest green jacket and slate gray trousers, Mr. Gibbs approached with a wide smile directed solely at her. “Good day, Miss Quinn. How delightful it is to see you again.”

“Welcome back, Mr. Gibbs.” Dear lord, she could feel her cheeks starting to burn. Sensing a need for stability, she reached for the stool.

Mr. Gibbs’s gaze slid toward her uncle. He tilted his head. “I say, aren’t you the same fellow I met in the street yesterday, in front of this very shop?”

Ada’s lips parted as she turned to stare at her uncle with no small amount of surprise.

He chuckled. “Afraid so. I hope you can forgive my cheekiness in recommending my own shop to you.”

“An easy feat since your advertisement was correct. As far as I can tell so far, the shop does indeed deliver quality goods, excellent service, and very competitive pricing.” Mr. Gibbs glanced at Ada and, holding her gaze, quietly added, “I’m certainly glad I decided to take a closer look.”

The heat in her cheeks worsened until she felt as though she’d been engulfed by flames. Lord help her, this man had the power to melt her completely.

“I’ll see about that box I started unpacking earlier.” Uncle James sent Ada a pointed look accompanied by a knowing smile before wandering off and disappearing between a couple of bookcases.

Ada stared after him. This was the first she’d heard of a new delivery.

“Our conversation yesterday has given me much to consider,” Mr. Gibbs said, drawing her attention back to him. “I’ve decided it would be unfair to judge something harshly without first examining it in greater detail.”

“Oh?”

“I refer to Miss Austen’s novels of course. You spoke of them with such fondness. Having never read one myself, I’ll allow that my opinion of such books may have been overly rash.”

Ada blinked. His ability to set aside his own preconceived notions was admirable. She smiled. “Thank you. I’ve always believed it important to keep an open mind in all matters.”

The edge of his lips quirked with undeniable charm. “Quite. Which is why I thought to ask if the shop has a copy of your favorite book of hers. Pride and something or other, I believe you said.”

“Pride and Prejudice,” Ada informed him with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, Miss Austen’s books are so successful they sell out almost at once. If I’m not mistaken, there’s still a copy of Persuasion left, but it’s not as good. A bit too distressing for my own personal taste and lacking much of the clever wit that’s prevalent in Austen’s earlier works.”

Biting her lip, she briefly considered lending Mr. Gibbs her personal copy of Pride and Prejudice, but quickly dismissed the idea. Such an offer was far too forward and would surely be viewed as an impropriety.

“Is it possible to place an order?” Mr. Gibbs asked. “For the novels you think are among Miss Austen’s best?”

Ada picked up a pencil and tapped the end of it lightly against the counter. “That would be four books in total. Pride and Prejudice, which you simply must read first, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, and Mansfield Park. If I recall correctly, you mentioned your sister having a copy of Mansfield Park, so maybe you don’t need to purchase that one?”

“True.” He was silent a moment before remarking, “Nevertheless, I’d like to have my own copy.”

* * *

Anthony waited quietly while Miss Quinn made a note of the titles. A light pink hue colored her cheeks, and despite displaying some shyness, she seemed more comfortable with him today. He was glad. Nervousness had never been a concern of his, yet there was no denying the worry holding his heart in a vice as he’d set out to fetch his order. He’d been afraid, truth was, that the strong connection he’d felt upon meeting Miss Quinn had been imagined.

But no. His concerns had been completely unfounded. The moment he’d entered the shop and his gaze had met hers, he’d known he was in the right place. The sparkle in her lovely blue eyes and her welcoming smile were proof that she had looked forward to seeing him just as much as he’d looked forward to seeing her.

“That will come to four pounds for the Austen books. We’ll require a two-pound deposit, to be returned to you if we’re unable to procure the books. And then there’s Rob Roy. I’ll fetch it for you straight away.”

The total exceeded five pounds. More than what a skilled craftsman earned in a month. Enough to buy a cow. It was, without doubt, an enormous sum to spend on what most would consider an extravagant purchase. Especially for a man in his position.

Frivolous, Mama would say, but she wasn’t here and besides, these weren’t just books. They were research intended to help him make money.

Anthony watched Miss Quinn disappear into a back room. He wasn’t ready to finish his dealings with her just yet, so when she returned, he casually said, “I hope you don’t find this too intrusive, but I’m curious to know how you came to live here, above a bookshop.”

She set his order on the counter. “My uncle used the money he inherited from his parents to open the place some twenty years ago. Considering how much books sell for, one might imagine him to be very well off. But after setting income aside for new books, paying the rent and other expenses, his own salary is modest. So he sold his townhouse ten years ago and moved into the space above the shop. When Papa died, Uncle James took me in.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s all right. I could have refused to answer.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know, but there’s something about you, I…” She shrugged and shook her head. “Confiding in you felt natural.”

The warmth in his chest expanded. “I’m glad.”

She chuckled, ducking her head with a hint of shyness. “I used to have my sisters to talk to, but they’re older than I. Dorothy was already wed with Bethany just about to get married when our father died. She lives in Northumbria now and I… Heavens, why am I telling you all of this?”

He grinned. “Because I’m happy to hear what you have to say? My father died too a few years ago and Mama has since re-married. She and her new husband are currently traveling the world together.”

“Sounds like you miss her.”

“Yes. It’s my fault she’s gone. I pushed her away with my foolhardiness.” He winced, a little embarrassed by the unplanned confession. Choosing to move on quickly, he said, “But I do have two younger sisters, both on the cusp of making debuts.”

“How exciting.”

Anthony managed a tight smile. Thankfully, both were provided with handsome dowries which he’d had no access to. But other expenses would be required if they were to make the desirable matches one might expect from a duke’s sisters. There were, after all, reputations to uphold.

“I’m sure it is for them,” he said as he gave his attention to the books she’d brought from the back room. He picked one up and turned it over, admiring the gold imprints upon the cover and along the length of the spine. “This is exquisite. The craftsmanship is extraordinary and this…this little ornamental symbol right here. I’m guessing it’s a signature?”

“Yes…um…my uncle…” She waved her hand. “He’s always believed in adding a binder’s mark in order to–”

The shop door swung open behind him, and before Anthony had a chance to figure out what was occurring, Miss Quinn vanished behind a bookcase. Two older women entered and Miss Quinn’s uncle came to assist them.

They also commented on the lovely editions he’d come to collect, and to Anthony’s surprise, one of them said, “I did not think your rheumatism allowed you to keep on binding, Mr. Quinn. I’m relieved to see that’s not the case. Indeed, this is some of your finest work to date.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Quinn murmured. He sent a quick glance toward the bookcase his niece was still hiding behind and proceeded to help the two women find what they wanted.

A purchase was made along with an order, and the pair soon departed with a polite, “Good day.”

Anthony sent a quick look toward the bookcase. Leaning toward Mr. Quinn, he asked, his voice low, “How long has your niece been binding books for you?”

“I suppose it must be…” He stopped himself with a grin and tapped the side of his nose before retreating once more.

“Sorry,” said Miss Quinn as she stepped back into view. With a hesitant glance directed toward the door, she moved back into position behind the counter. “Let’s finish this order, shall we?”

“Have you ever considered letting customers know that you work here?” Anthony asked, leaning against the counter.

“I don’t really,” Miss Quinn informed him, her voice a bit edgy as she began wrapping his books.

“That’s not the impression I’m getting,” he murmured.

Her gaze shot toward his. “This is an irregularity. I… Please, you mustn’t say a word. If it became known that an unmarried woman works here, the shop’s reputation could be ruined. To say nothing about mine or my uncle’s. Please, Mr. Gibbs, I hope you won’t–”

“You needn’t worry. I shan’t tell a soul.”

She expelled a visible sigh of relief, and he noted her fingers trembled as she tied the string to hold the brown paper in place.

Regretting his comment and how anxious it clearly made her, he tried to think of something else to say – a subject to steer her attention elsewhere. An apology might do the trick.

He opened his mouth.

“I’ll require an address for you along with the payment. So your books can be delivered when they arrive.”

“Right.” He retrieved the coins he owed and placed them on the counter. “I could just stop by and check from time to time.”

She gave him an odd look. “I suppose so.”

He flattened his mouth. She’d already shared a great deal about herself with him. Hiding his true self from her felt wrong. It wasn’t the honorable way in which to start a new friendship.

“Number 2 Berkley Square,” he said and watched as she jotted that down. When she finished, she added his name. Mr. Gibbs. Anthony took a deep breath. “There’s a…ahem…slight error in need of correcting.”

“Oh?” She stared at her note. “Forgive me, but I don’t see it.”

“It’s the name.”

“Ah. Just one ‘b’ rather than two? I’ll just–”

He caught her hand to halt her movement and everything stilled, except the beat of his heart, which was thumping so hard he feared she might hear it. Her sharp intake of breath suggested she had.

He withdrew his hand slowly. “My name isn’t exactly Mr. Gibbs. Not formally speaking. I… Promise me what I’m about to share won’t change what’s between us. I need to know that you won’t perceive me differently.”

She knit her brow. “That would honestly be an impossible promise to make without knowing what you’ve been hiding. But I’ve enjoyed our conversations so far and would like to believe nothing will influence that.”

“The name should read, His Grace, the Duke of Westcliffe.”