Chapter 6

Three whole days had passed since Mr. Gibbs – the duke – had shocked Ada into silence. For several moments after his life-altering confession, she’d wondered if she’d been struck in the head by another book. She’d then proceeded to ponder the probability of two such occurrences happening to the same woman in the space of one week and hadn’t realized her mouth had been hanging open until the duke asked if she was all right.

Embarrassment didn’t begin to describe the emotional calamity she’d experienced. Riotous thoughts and feelings had stormed her brain as she’d struggled to regain her composure.

Not only because of who he was, but because of the tragedy that was attached to his title. She’d been dismayed when she’d read of it in the paper – three dukes, all simultaneously killed when they’d gone to purchase some livestock and a cow pen exploded.

Words had failed her when she’d realized she stood before one of these men’s sons, frozen, with no idea how to respond.

Since their first encounter, she’d known Mr. Gibbs to be a man of elevated status. His attire, the gentlemanly air about him, and the way he moved, all attested to this. She’d known he stood apart from her sphere of existence.

And yet, in some strange way, a bridge had formed between her world and his. They’d chatted, laughed a little, gotten along. It had, she reflected, felt as though there might have been a chance for a deeper connection. A slim chance, perhaps, but a chance nonetheless.

Until he’d told her he was a duke.

Good lord. She might as well dream of wearing a gown made from stardust to the next ball. She felt like a fool. No, she was a fool. Allowing herself to hope a man of Mr. Gibbs’s caliber would ever shower her with romantic attention was absolutely preposterous. Even while he’d been just Mr. Gibbs. Now that she knew him to be a duke, this line of pondering was downright mortifying.

“You’re distracted today,” Harriet said, prompting Ada to blink.

She’d come to the cozy space rented by the Earl of Rosemont’s youngest daughter, Lady Emily Brooke, for the monthly book club meeting she’d been attending this past year. The club was open to fellow enthusiasts and encouraged women from all social stations to join.

There were presently twenty members, including Emily’s grandmother, the Viscountess Attersby, who was an absolute delight. Outspoken and energetic, the older woman would always fill her teacup with brandy before conveying her thoughts on the latest novel they’d all been assigned.

The meetings offered a lovely diversion from everyday life.

She glanced at her friend, aware she ought to say something. Unwilling to bring up Mr. Gibbs, she said, “I’m sorry. It’s been a busy week at the shop.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Harriet asked, taking another sip of tea. Her curly red hair was unfashionably short, but the locks still had a charming effect, which was further enhanced by her forest green eyes.

“Certainly,” Ada agreed. She bit her lip and watched as the other book club members began taking their leave. “How about you? Are you still working yourself to the bone or have you been able to get some more rest?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Harriet shrugged. “My job doesn’t allow for much rest, but I’ll not complain about it, Ada. You know well enough that I love what I do and that I can’t afford to risk losing the pay.”

Following the deaths of both her parents, most recently her father, Harriet had been left to care for her significantly younger twelve-year-old sister, Lucy. Despite being born into gentry, neither Harriet nor her sister had been provided for in their father’s will, since said will had been non-existent.

As a result, everything had gone to a rather detestable cousin who’d tossed them both out of their home immediately after the funeral. It was a blessing that Harriet had managed to find good employment, though Ada often wondered whether the lengths she’d been forced to in order to do so were worth it.

Ada glanced at Lucy, who always attended with Harriet. She was still playing with the marbles Emily kept here for her entertainment. “I believe it’s a bit of a luxury to be fond of one’s work.”

“Having had jobs I hated, I have to agree,” Harriet said, her voice quiet. She met Ada’s gaze and smiled. “We’re lucky, you and I, to get paid for something we enjoy doing.”

Ada nodded. “We received several orders over the past few days, so my binding skills have been put to good use.”

“I plan to order more books myself,” Emily said as she came to join them after seeing her grandmother out. Emily’s fondness for books outdid her interest in men and marriage by leaps and strides. But what only a few select people knew was that Emily also wrote a successful book review column for The Mayfair Chronicle, under the assumed name, The Lady Librarian.

“I look forward to it,” Ada informed her. She loved it when either one of her friends stopped by the shop, since they’d often stay for a cup of tea and a lengthy chat.

“The last editions you prepared for me were absolutely stunning. I’m sure others will agree.”

“They do,” Ada said. She pursed her lips when she noted her friends’ expectant gazes. “A lady remarked on my most recent work last week when she spotted the books on the counter.”

“She must have been very pleased with her purchase,” Harriet said.

“Oh, they weren’t for her,” Ada told them a bit too quickly. When both of her friends raised their eyebrows, Ada attempted a nonchalant shrug. “They were for a—” she cleared her throat “—gentleman.”

“Really?” Emily’s curiosity could not be denied. It was in the pointed look and that mischievous smirk she sent Ada. “Do I detect an interest on your part?”

“No.” Not one that was worth entertaining. She decided to change the subject. “Have you given any more thought to your father’s birthday gift?”

Emily nodded while munching a piece of shortbread she’d snatched from a plate. “There’s a new edition of the Encyclop?dia Britannica.”

“Yes, the fifth one,” Ada said, recalling the two complete sets that had just been delivered to the shop. “Consisting of twenty volumes.”

“Right.” Emily gulped down a mouthful of tea. “So I thought I’d give him that. It’s a fairly large order requiring a lot of binding, so I hope you can find the time, Ada.”

“Of course I can,” Ada assured her. She reached for Emily’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Thank you, by the way, for your constant mentions of Between the Pages in your column. I’m sure it has helped drive a lot of the traffic we’ve seen lately. Uncle James has certainly remarked on an increase in sales.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Emily said. “That shop is a hidden gem that deserves to be discovered by anyone with an interest in books.”

“I completely agree,” Harriet said before glancing toward her sister. “Lucy, it’s time to tidy up now so we can get going.”

“Already?” Lucy asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. I’d like to catch Mrs. Newson before she closes her shop for the day.” Harriet stood and shook out her coarse cotton skirts. She turned to Ada and Emily. “It was lovely seeing you both again.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Ada said as she too rose to her feet.

“Take this.” Emily handed Harriet a small bundle.

Harriet frowned at it. “Thank you, but you’ve already done so much for me and Lucy. I really shouldn’t be—”

“Nonsense,” said Emily. “It’s just a few things I don’t use myself. Better it goes to a dear friend than to someone I don’t know, as will happen if I let my maid dispose of the items.”

Harriet sighed. “Very well then. Thank you, Emily. You’re ever so kind.”

Emily blushed slightly but waved her hand as though to dispel the effect Harriet’s gratitude had upon her. She drew her and Ada into a simultaneous hug. “I’ll miss you both until we see each other next.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Ada assured her.

She and Harriet departed with Lucy in tow and exited onto Maypole Street. The smoke from newly lit fireplaces permeated the early evening air. Up ahead, coal was being shoveled into a chute.

“I’ll see you next month,” Harriet said when they parted ways at the next intersection.

“Looking forward to it,” Ada said. She turned left while Harriet and Lucy headed toward the river, crossing the street behind a horse and cart.

The pavement Ada walked was freshly washed with the runoff water trickling along beside her. Lanterns would be lit in another hour or so. For now, the light from the sinking sun cast a wondrously hazy glow across the City.

She rounded a few more corners and was almost back at the bookshop when she spotted a man striding toward her from the opposite end of the street. Her heart seemed to recognize him before her eyes did, slamming so hard against her breast, it felt like she’d been hit by a shovel.

She halted for a brief second - just long enough to confirm that it was indeed him. The duke was back and her stomach had chosen this inopportune time to have a small seizure. Or at least that was how it felt.

He spotted her in the next instant and sent her the sort of dazzling smile that ought to be illegal. It certainly had the power to scatter all logical thought and weaken her knees, which was rather a frightening thing to consider. What if this was the general effect he had on everyone? Parts of London would come to a standstill, filled by mesmerized people all leaning up against buildings for support.

“Miss Quinn.” He greeted her as though she were the sort of woman for whom an encounter with a duke was a normal occurrence. “I was just coming to see you.”

“Ah…um…er…Your Grace?” She pushed one foot behind her and bent the front knee in an awkward attempt at a curtsey.

“I thought we agreed there’d be none of that.” He dipped his eyebrows as though to show how serious he was, but the flicker of humor in his eyes betrayed him.

Ada sent him a hesitant smile. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this sort of thing.”

“And what sort of thing might that be?”

“Socializing with someone as…” She swept her hand up and down as though painting him with an invisible brush.

His right eyebrow rose while the left side of his mouth drew upward to form a crooked grin. “Charming? Handsome? Likeable? Possibly all the above?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his wry sense of humor. If he’d meant to put her at ease, it had the desired effect. She relaxed and approached, allowing her shoulder to playfully push against his as she turned for the bookshop door.

“Conceited does come to mind,” she teased and promptly sent him a nervous look over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was perhaps a bit rude. I didn’t mean to offend, I—”

“Stop.” His grin had warmed his eyes, and he was watching her with the same sort of curious expression he’d worn while helping her when they’d first met. “I’m not some fragile glass ornament in danger of breaking if things get a little bit rowdy. On the contrary, I enjoy our repartee and would be devastated if you began tiptoeing around me just because of a silly title.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Ada said after a brief pause. She took a deep breath and expelled it. “I enjoy our repartee too. It’s surprisingly…”

“Easy,” he murmured when she failed to come up with the right word.

“Yes,” she agreed, a little surprised by how true this was.

She’d always struggled with friendships, finding it difficult to approach people. It had taken forever for her to pluck up the courage to attend the book club meeting the first time she’d gone. Uncle James had encouraged her to participate so she could meet other women her own age. She’d spent two hours just listening to everyone else. It wasn’t until the meeting was over and she’d been about to leave that Emily stopped her to inquire about her reason for coming.

The next meeting had been easier and little by little she’d opened up.

In some ways, her friendship with Westcliffe was similar. He’d taken the lead by engaging her in conversation and encouraging her to participate. She was grateful to him for this. He was a wonderful man who wasn’t entirely wrong about the adjectives he’d used to describe himself. But he could never be more than a friend.

Odd, how that thought sent a pang of regret through her heart.

She shook off the feeling and pushed open the shop door. The bell chimed and the wonderfully familiar scent of paper wrapped itself around her. Mr. Gibbs followed her inside. Perhaps she should start calling him Westcliffe? She’d have to ask him how he preferred she address him. Mr. Gibbs was how she thought of him, but it wasn’t the right title for him anymore.

A customer stood at the counter – an older gentleman in the process of placing a new order with Uncle James. He glanced at Ada, whom he quickly dismissed, and then at Mr. Gibbs.

Recognition widened his eyes. “Your Grace. Do you shop here too?”

“Indeed I do,” Mr. Gibbs informed him. “The service is excellent and I would dare any man to locate a more skillful binder.”

“Agreed,” said the gentleman while Ada snuck behind Mr. Gibbs and disappeared into the back room. “Mr. Quinn is the best there is.”

“Yes,” Ada heard Mr. Gibbs say with a pensive tone to his voice. “He most certainly is.”

Ada waited until she heard the man leave before venturing back into the shop. “Would the two of you care for some tea?”

“I’d love a cup,” Mr. Gibbs said. “If it’s not too much of an imposition.”

“Not at all,” said Uncle James. “We’re happy to have your company, aren’t we, Ada?”

Heat rose to Ada’s cheeks and she quickly nodded. “Of course.”

She caught Mr. Gibbs’s gaze briefly and swallowed before retreating to the back room once more, leaving him to chat with her uncle. With hasty movements intended to dispel the fluttery feeling in her stomach, she prepared the tea.

“You know him, you silly goose,” she chided herself. “He’s your friend. No sense in letting him ruffle your feathers.”

If it were only so simple. Truth was, the man was able to make her skin tingle with merely one glance. It was equally wonderful and tormenting.

“We thought we’d join you in here,” Uncle James said, showing Mr. Gibbs into the small space behind the shop. Ada, who was pouring hot water into the pot, started a bit in surprise, nearly scalding herself in the process. “It’s a bit more private, in case other shoppers stop by.”

“I suppose,” Ada hedged, sweeping the area with her gaze and wondering how someone else might see it – how Mr. Gibbs, specifically, would see it. She set the pot aside and rushed to make space for him on a chair where she’d left leather samples scattered about in a messy pile. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to entertain anyone.”

Certainly not a duke. Good lord, whatever must he be thinking?

“No worries,” he said, his voice cheerful as he inspected the room with a curious look. “I love how homely this feels. My townhouse seems so impersonal by comparison. Is this where you work, Mr. Quinn?”

Uncle James crossed to the wooden table Ada used for binding the books. “Oh yes. One doesn’t need a large room for this sort of thing.”

“Perhaps you can show me how it’s done once we’ve finished our tea?” Mr. Gibbs sent Uncle James a warm smile. “I’m curious to see how it all comes together.”

“Well…um…yes.” Uncle James scratched the back of his head and glanced at Ada. “It’s a bit of a lengthy process, though, with time required for drying the glair. But I can certainly walk you through the basics – explain how it’s done, that is.”

“Thank you. I’d enjoy that.” Mr. Gibbs accepted the cup Ada handed him and gestured toward the chair she’d prepared for his use. “Why don’t you sit here, Mr. Quinn, and I’ll take one of the stools instead?”

“Oh no.” Uncle James shook his head. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Please.” Mr. Gibbs remained where he stood. “I must insist.”

“But you’re a duke,” Uncle James muttered. “It wouldn’t be right.”

Mr. Gibbs sighed. “Can we please agree that while I am here I am not any different from either of you? I’m not more deserving or of higher status. I am merely Mr. Gibbs, an ordinary man enjoying himself with his friends.”

“Very well,” Ada said before Uncle James could respond. The sincerity in Mr. Gibbs’s voice, the quiet plea for them to treat him without any fuss, and the kindness he wanted to show her uncle were worthy of note. She could not deny him. “You and I shall take the stools and Uncle James will have the chair. I’ve some biscuits too if anyone would like some.”

“What kind of biscuits?” Mr. Gibbs asked with a boyish smile.

“I’ve got vanilla and chocolate from the bakery next door,” Ada said as she went to collect a tin. “They’re both rather good.”

She popped the lid on the tin, set it aside and offered Mr. Gibbs the biscuits. He selected a vanilla flavored one and Ada chose the same after letting Uncle James pick his. She placed the tin on a side table within easy reach before lowering herself to a stool. Her knee bumped Mr. Gibbs’s and she muttered a hasty apology.

“So,” said Uncle James before the situation could get more awkward, “how does a gentleman such as yourself pass his day when he’s not visiting bookshops?”

Mr. Gibbs shrugged one shoulder and sipped his tea before saying, “I’d prefer to tell you how I ought to pass it rather than how I actually do – or have been, of late. Truth is I’ve been negligent in my duties for longer than I care to admit and must now face the consequences. My sisters, for instance, deserve to have debuts with all the pomp Society will expect on account of their stations. And then there are my properties, which all require servants and some sort of general upkeep. It’s rather expensive and overwhelming.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Ada said. “I mean, you are a duke.”

Mr. Gibbs produced an unhappy sort of laugh. “Yes, but such an elevated position has certain expectations attached to it. My sisters, for instance, cannot make their debuts without having different gowns for each event. And only the very best gowns, mind you. To say nothing of riding habits, shoes, bonnets, hats, gloves, reticules, shawls and…well, the list does go on.”

“It sounds dreadful,” Uncle James mused.

“It is,” Mr. Gibbs said. He popped his vanilla biscuit into his mouth and chewed, then brushed a few stray crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Papa did a much better job of it than I have managed so far. He was a clever man who possessed an instinctive knack for investments and figuring out where to save and where not to. His death caught me completely off guard. I wasn’t prepared. So rather than embrace my new duties, I ignored them, and here we are. I may be a duke, but only in name. As far as accomplishments go, I’m completely inept.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Ada said, hoping to cheer him. Surely it couldn’t be quite as bad as he let on.

“The important thing,” Uncle James added, “is that you’ve acknowledged your mistake and that you are now prepared to do better.”

“Which is incidentally part of my reason for stopping by today,” Mr. Gibbs said. “The others being your exceptional company and these wonderful biscuits.”

Ada smiled, catching his gaze just long enough to send her pulse racing. Ah, this man. If only he weren’t so perfectly unattainable. This was the sort of man she might envision herself marrying.

Good lord. Now there’s a line of thought that has to end this instant.

The shop bell chimed to let everyone know a new customer had arrived. Uncle James stood. “Please excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Ada almost protested the closing of the door when Uncle James left, but since she’d no desire for the customer to spot her with Mr. Gibbs, she chose to frown at it instead. Being alone with a man was the one thing all young ladies were told to avoid, yet here she was.

“I brought these,” Mr. Gibbs said as though undaunted by their situation. “It would please me greatly if you’d take a look.”

She tore her gaze from the door and saw that he held a pile of paper toward her. “What’s this?”

He shoved it closer to her. “You should probably take it before I change my mind.”

Amused and curious, she set her teacup aside and did as he asked. A bold script adorned the front and back of each page, of which there were possibly thirty in total. At the top of the first page was written, ‘Chapter One’.

Intrigued, Ada proceeded to read, allowing herself to become engrossed in a story that featured a wealthy earl with an interest in horses. And, possibly, a lady of equal station, whom he seemed inclined to marry.

“Well?” Mr. Gibbs asked once she was finished reviewing what constituted three chapters.

“Um…” She sent him a hesitant look.

“That awful?” He’d visibly slumped on his stool with his forearms resting on his thighs while he stared at the floor with a frown.

She offered him the tin of biscuits and he happily took a chocolate one this time. “It’s not awful. The descriptions are good, but I’m struggling to care about what happens next. The hero’s life is charmed, as is the heroine’s. They have no obstacles in their way, so why not have him propose to her on page one and be done with it?”

“Because then there’d be no story,” Mr. Gibbs told her as though she were daft.

She grinned. “Right, but for a story to be compelling, there has to be conflict. In a romance novel, which is what I presume this to be, there must be something keeping the hero and heroine apart. For instance, the hero’s family might have a long-standing dispute with the heroine’s, like in Romeo and Juliet. Or maybe the heroine is already engaged to another man – perhaps to the hero’s best friend.”

“That would be nearly impossible to untangle.”

“Yes, but finding a way to do so while leaving the reader guessing will produce the page-turner every author hopes to write.” She handed the pages back to him. “I trust you wrote this?”

He nodded. “My friends and I desperately require a steady income, so when you mentioned a need for more books of this nature, I thought it might be a good opportunity.”

Warmth filled the space surrounding Ada’s heart. It was uncanny how much it pleased her to know that Mr. Gibbs hadn’t merely chosen to heed her advice, but that he’d come to seek her opinion on the first few chapters he’d written.

“And it is,” Ada said since she firmly believed this to be true.

“Maybe for someone with greater skill than what we possess.” His brow was creased by serious lines. “To be honest, I knew it wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t imagine feeling as though we’ve wasted the last three days working on this.”

Ada understood him. “I realize my critique might be dissuasive, but I’m hoping you don’t give up trying because of what I’ve just said.”

“I told my friends we could have the first draft completed within a month if we worked together, with an aim at publication a couple of months after that.” He expelled a weary sigh. “Perhaps this time would be better spent trying to find other means of earning an income.”

“Is your situation truly as dire as all that?” She was struggling to believe it.

He caught her gaze. “We’ve all squandered our fortunes and must resort to auctioning off some of our possessions in order to make ends meet. But there’s a limit to how much we can get rid of before we make a mockery of ourselves. There are certain expectations linked to our titles that must be met. So we’re trying to be discreet for the sake of keeping up appearances. Obviously, regular employment would be out of the question, but this was a viable option. It’s just a lot harder than I’d imagined.”

“Story telling is no simple feat.” Ada worried her lower lip while deciding how best to proceed. Although it was probably very unwise for her to spend additional time in his company, she wanted to lend Mr. Gibbs her assistance. Would her heart survive it? Only time would tell. One thing was certain and that was that she’d begun to care about him. She couldn’t therefore in good conscience turn her back on him when he needed her most. Decision made, she said, “I’m happy to help.”

“You are?”

“Absolutely.” She tapped her chin with her index finger while studying him. “Unfortunately, it will require starting over.”