Chapter 7

Anthony watched in fascination as Miss Quinn jotted down notes on a notepad she’d collected. Her opinion of his writing had been both insightful and tough to hear. He’d thought the story he and his friends had come up with so far was much better than it apparently was. Listening to Miss Quinn point out the flaws had swiftly changed his standing on this.

The story was off to a boring start. Which meant there was work to be done. Lots of it.

“As I mentioned,” she said, “you need an obstacle between the hero and heroine. The more insurmountable this obstacle, the better. Readers should wonder how this man and woman will ever be able to bridge the divide between them and find the happily ever after they both deserve. So let’s start there. Any ideas?”

Anthony blinked. He considered the pure intensity with which Miss Quinn approached this new task. Her determination to help him coupled with the warmth and comfort he always felt when in her presence were enticing. A pity she was no more than a shopkeeper’s niece or he’d offer to court her in a heartbeat.

That wish, along with the purposeful beat it brought to his heart, was too poignant to be ignored. He gave a slow nod. “What if the earl were to fall for”—using shopkeeper would be too obvious—“a maid or an innkeeper’s daughter.”

“A class differences story?” Miss Quinn’s eyes twinkled with undeniable pleasure. “I like that a lot. It could be similar to Cinderella. If we use the innkeeper idea, the heroine might receive assistance from an older woman who comes to stay for a while. A fairy godmother type who helps her transform. Or maybe the heroine learns that she’s secretly the daughter of a baron, or a long-lost relation of the Prince Regent, or maybe…what? Why are you laughing?”

Anthony shook his head. “I’m simply enjoying myself, Miss Quinn. Please, do carry on.”

She pursed her lips in the most adorable way, tempting him to lean in and kiss her.

He refrained and then her uncle returned, reminding Anthony of the late hour. He ought to leave.

“I think we’re finally heading in the right direction,” Miss Quinn informed him when he thanked her for the tea and stood. “You should keep working on this, but I would advise you to read Miss Austen’s books too so you get a firm grasp of what readers expect.”

“That is excellent advice, though it does have one problem.” He tucked the papers he’d brought inside his jacket pocket along with the notes she’d made. “My editions have yet to arrive.”

“Ah. Right.”

“Anything I can help with?” Uncle James asked.

“Not unless you happen to have a spare copy of Pride and Prejudice lying about,” Miss Quinn said.

Her uncle rocked back on his heels. “Can’t say I do, but if it’s an urgent matter, why not lend him yours?”

Miss Quinn pressed her lips together while seeming to consider. She glanced at Anthony, who did his best to keep his features schooled and to not give away how much he hoped she’d agree. The very idea of closing himself away for the evening with one of her books had the most profound effect. His muscles tightened and sparks of awareness ignited against his skin, no doubt on account of the intimacy related to the gesture.

“Very well,” she said and promptly spun on her heel. Swiftly, she climbed the steep stairs near the back entrance and disappeared from Anthony’s view.

“Care to share your reason for needing the book?” Mr. Quinn asked once he and Anthony were alone.

“It’s supposed to be inspirational. I’m trying to write a novel, you see, and your niece suggested I research the sort of stories I’m aiming for.”

“An excellent idea.” Mr. Quinn sought Anthony’s gaze and held it. “I’m glad you’re here. Getting Ada out of the house has been a struggle. She refused to consider marriage when she was old enough to start looking for a potential match. Her sisters have wed but I think Ada feels she ought to stay here and help me. She has her own life to live though. Deuced hard convincing her of it, but then you came along and I did have some hope. Until we found out who you are and all that.”

Despite Anthony’s interest in Miss Quinn, he was slightly taken aback by her uncle’s blatant suggestion pertaining to marriage. Unsure of how to respond, he chose to navigate around it by saying, “Again, I apologize for the deception.”

“Oh no. I didn’t mean it like that. As far as that goes, I quite understand. It simply would have been grand if you and she were able to… Well, never mind.” He waved his hand and then Miss Quinn was scrambling back downstairs, forcing an end to the conversation.

Still, it had left Anthony reeling with a distinct sense of loss. He tried to shake it off but the truth was, he knew he wouldn’t be rid of it until he knew he would see Miss Quinn again – that the promise of spending more time with her lingered upon the horizon.

Maybe he was being stupid, but the connection he felt with her could not be denied. So he took the book she handed him and said, “Thank you for your company and for all the advice you’ve offered. I promise to return this to you as soon as possible, and when I do, I hope to provide you with some much better pages for you to read.”

A lovely pink hue tinged her cheeks. “I shall look forward to it, Mr. Gibbs.”

He nodded, thanked her uncle for his hospitality too, and departed with a sense of contentment expanding his chest.

* * *

Mooning over Mr. Gibbs was a terrible mistake.

Ada told herself so repeatedly in the days that followed. She had to stop and yet there was no avoiding the thoughts she kept having. Not when his large body had dwarfed the interior of this very room where she now worked. He’d sat on that exact stool, placed his teacup right there, touched the tin of biscuits she’d eaten from ever since parting ways with him last.

She swept her brow with her hand and told herself to focus. He was a duke – possibly a poor one – but a duke nonetheless, and she was what exactly? A normal, everyday nobody without even the paltriest dowry to help her get settled.

If that was what she wished to do, which it wasn’t.

Here with Uncle James she could have some degree of freedom.

Ha! The sort that involved hiding from the world and keeping her work a secret. What sort of freedom was that?

The sort that saved her from living under a husband’s thumb as her sister, Dorothy, was forced to do. She had been an outspoken woman who’d lost her voice the moment she and her husband said, “I do.”

Ada shook her head. She’d rather live in the back room of Between the Pages for the remainder of her days than suffer such a terrible fate. Although she imagined life with Mr. Gibbs might be different. He did seem like the sort of man who would listen to her opinions rather than always subject her to his own.

Ugh!

If only she could stop thinking about him.

She shook her head and finished the lettering on the books she’d been completing. Uncle James would be dropping them off to a Mayfair address later today. It pleased Ada to see how well his shop was doing and made a mental note to thank Emily once again for constantly singing its praises in her column.

But whatever pleasure she felt was reduced to self-criticism later when Uncle James returned with the books he’d gone to drop off.

“There’s a mistake with the binding,” he told her, setting the books on the table.

Ada stared at the deep red shade of leather adorned with gold leaf. “What?”

“Mr. Wilkes has demanded we re-do both volumes at our own expense.”

“I’m so sorry, Uncle James. I’ve no idea what happened. “

Not entirely true. Her head had been in the clouds since the day Mr. Gibbs walked into the shop. Or maybe she hadn’t recovered from the blow to her head yet. Either way, meeting him - thinking of him - was bad for business. If she weren’t careful, she’d ruin the shop’s reputation. One mishap might be excusable with a loyal client, but if it happened again, word would undoubtedly start to spread. Customers would stop coming and Uncle James’s income would suffer.

She could not allow that to happen after all he had done for her.

“You needn’t look so torn up, Ada.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Mistakes happen.”

“I’ll fix it,” she whispered. “I promise.”

“And I’m sure Mr. Wilkes will be thrilled with the result.”

“Let’s hope so.” Ada stared at the lettering. The books were The History of British India, volumes one, two, and three, but she’d printed Rob Roy across the covers.

“Imbecile,” she muttered as soon as Uncle James had gone back to the shop. Honestly, she could kick herself over the wasted time and money she’d caused.

Well, best get on with correcting her error. She grabbed a sharp knife and set to work, spending the rest of the day and much of the next one removing the leather binding she’d initially created and replacing it with a new one. This time, she took extra care to make sure the title on the cover matched the book itself before handing it over to her uncle for delivery.

“The duke is back,” Uncle James informed her the following day when he came to find her. With no current work to complete, she’d decided to give the apartment a thorough cleaning and was in the middle of wiping the skirting. “He’s asking to see you, so I thought you might take a break and come down?”

Ada pushed back onto her haunches and glanced at her uncle. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Uncle James scratched his head. “I thought you enjoyed his company.”

There was no denying the dismay in his voice.

“And I do. Very much so.” Too much, she’d concluded. She stood and dropped the cloth she’d been using into a pail filled with water and soap suds. “But look what his coming here has led to. As lovely as his visits have been, he’s proven to be a distraction. I think he’s the reason I messed up the Wilkes order.”

“Ada…”

“It’s probably best if you give Mr. Gibbs my regrets.”

Uncle James stared at her. “Are you certain, Ada?”

“Quite.” What use was there in spending more time with him anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d suddenly choose to think, ‘Ah yes, that woman who lives above a book shop would make me an excellent duchess. I must propose at once.’

She waited for Uncle James to leave before dropping back onto her knees with a huff. If she wrung out her cloth and continued cleaning with increased aggression, it was only because she was frustrated by all the dust that had gathered. Truly, it was a miracle they didn’t continuously sneeze, she decided.

“He returned this,” Uncle James said that afternoon when they met for tea in the back room as usual. He set her copy of Pride and Prejudice on her work table.

Ada stared at the two volumes comprising the novel. “What did he think of it?”

“I can’t say.” Uncle James snatched a chocolate biscuit from the tin she offered and took a bite. “He refused to tell me.”

“What do you mean he refused?”

“He said you’d have to ask him yourself if you wanted to know.”

“But maybe you wanted to know.”

Uncle James glanced at the ceiling. “He’s not daft, Ada.”

“I never suggested he was,” she muttered while sending her favorite novel a disgruntled frown. “What else did he say?”

“Just that he’s got some new material for you to look at. I believe that’s why he came – to ask your opinion and to hand the book back to you.”

She bit into the biscuit she’d selected and chewed on it before saying, “He read it quickly. That’s surely a positive sign.”

Uncle James sighed. “Honestly, you’ll have to ask him yourself if you truly want to know.”

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Suit yourself, Ada.”

“You’re not going to try and change my mind?” Ada asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

“Would it work?”

“Probably not.”

“Didn’t think so.” He ate the rest of his biscuit and washed it down with a large gulp of tea. “You’ve always been rather bull-headed. Even with the binding. Wouldn’t let me talk you out of giving it a go. But I must confess I’m sorry to see you push Mr. Gibbs away. He’s a good man and while he might not be in a position to think of you as a possible match, he could be a wonderful life-long friend.”

Uncle James wasn’t wrong, but unfortunately the risk he posed to her heart outweighed whatever benefit she might find in continuing their acquaintance. “I’m sorry, but I’ve made my decision.”

“Well then, you ought to be pleased to know that the Britannica order was placed today.”

“Emily stopped by?” She’d been looking forward to her visit. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“She arrived while Mr. Gibbs was here. I could hardly show her up while turning a duke away, could I?”

“I suppose not,” Ada muttered.

“The good news is that her order will give you a lot of binding to do. Twenty volumes worth, to be exact.”

“I look forward to it,” Ada lied. For the first time ever, book binding held no appeal. She wasn’t excited about it. If anything, she had the most ridiculous urge to go back to bed and stay there for the foreseeable future. Her heart ached and she started to worry she might be coming down with a cold or, heaven help her, influenza.

But when a week went by with no worsening symptoms, she realized her new despondency might be caused by something else. Curiously, she felt slightly better whenever her uncle informed her that Mr. Gibbs had once again come to call upon her. He did so daily while she continued to make up excuses not to see him.

The Austen books he’d ordered arrived, so she took a break from the encyclopedia to work on those for a while. Once they were ready, she handed them over to Uncle James for delivery.

“He brought you these today,” Uncle James informed her one evening when they met for supper. In his hand he held a massive bouquet of white roses.

Ada stared at the flowers. “What?”

“There’s a note attached.” He handed it to her before going to find a vase.

Befuddled and with her heart hopping about, Ada opened the card and read.

I saw these and thought of you. Anthony Gibbs.

It was ridiculous how happy a bouquet of flowers could make a woman, Ada decided, sniffing the fragrant perfume and admiring each perfect bloom. She felt slightly giddy and more excited than she probably ought.

Perhaps she should agree to see him when he stopped by next, to thank him at least.

No, it was too dangerous. He’d only muddle her head even worse. These flowers alone were enough to make her wonder if he might be thinking of her a little bit more than he probably ought. With the encyclopedia’s delivery date on the horizon, she had to remain focused.

“I hope you’ll tell him how grateful I am,” Ada told Uncle James.

“You ought to do so yourself,” he pointed out.

“Possibly, but I think it’s best if I don’t.”

Her uncle responded with a snort and a shake of his head.

“Ada,” he said the next morning, popping his head into the back room, “I need your help out here.”

She’d been cutting the leather for the fifth volume in Emily’s order but quickly put her supplies down and wiped her hands clean. When she entered the shop, she froze. Three bouquets of flowers stood on the counter, filling the space completely.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Here’s the note,” Uncle James informed her and handed over a cream-colored card. “We need to clear these out of here before customers start asking questions.”

“Right. Of course.” She grabbed one bouquet – a lovely display of pink peonies mixed with orchids. It smelled divine and made her head feel a little bit fuzzy.

Ada turned her attention to the card as soon as all the flowers had been brought into the back room.

It occurred to me that you might not be partial to roses, so I thought I’d send you these as well. Anthony Gibbs.

She stared at the words, re-reading them numerous times before setting the card aside. What on earth was he playing at? If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was trying to declare himself, but that couldn’t be right. Surely. Then again, unmarried men did not send flowers to unmarried women unless they had intentions. Did they?

Afraid of getting her hopes up, Ada carried the flowers upstairs and placed them on various tables in the apartment.

“I really think you should see him, Ada,” Uncle James told her the following day when additional bouquets arrived. “At this rate, there’s more concern of creating gossip because of the flowers than because of any mistakes you might make with the binding.”

He wasn’t wrong, Ada decided. She crossed her arms and scowled at the collection of dahlia, lilies, gladioli, freesia, and additional roses. There were five bouquets this time. Five! She shook her head and wondered for the hundredth time what Mr. Gibbs might be aiming for.

Plucking a card from one of the bouquets she read his latest note.

Whatever I may have done to earn your disfavor, I apologize and beg your forgiveness. Anthony Gibbs.

Ada’s heart shuddered. He thought she was upset with him for some reason. And why wouldn’t he? She hadn’t explained herself but had merely decided to stop associating with him from one day to the next. Of course he’d be confused.

Ada”s heart raced as she realized the gravity of her mistake.

Lord, she was a bigger fool than she’d even thought possible. Self-absorbed came to mind too, which really wasn’t a very flattering way to view oneself.

Expelling a weary breath, she turned to Uncle James. “I think I’d better speak with him.”

“Thank you.” Uncle James raised both hands toward the ceiling as if to convey that his prayers had been answered. Dropping them to his sides he told her gravely, “I know you have your apprehensions, but you mustn’t worry. I’ll double check all your work before we deliver it just to be sure no further mistakes arise. All right?”

Seeing no other choice, she agreed and prepared to do what should have been done several days before.