Chapter 8

Anthony was perfectly aware of the fact that the large collections of flowers he’d sent to Between the Pages might have been slightly over the top. He probably ought to have saved the expense which now meant he’d have to cut back on other purchases for a whole week.

One bouquet, possibly two, or maybe three, would surely have been enough. But he’d been beside himself and had wanted to prove a point.

I like you a lot, was the general message he’d meant to convey.

Truth was, it was quite a bit more than that.

He mourned the loss of Miss Quinn’s company, the conversations they’d shared, that spark of awareness he felt when they were together, and the delightful anticipation of their paths crossing once more.

Not to mention the wonderful help she’d provided. He’d conveyed her advice to Brody and Callum, and while they’d been just as unhappy as he to start over, they’d agreed it was necessary.

Pride and Prejudice had also been useful. Miss Quinn had been quite correct to make him read it. But she herself had suddenly put a halt to their newfound friendship. Without so much as an explanation.

When he’d asked her uncle if he could provide some insight, the man had, much to Anthony’s aggravation, merely shrugged his shoulders and said he’d no idea why his niece chose not to see him. Only that she was busy.

Busy.

That was the lousiest excuse Anthony knew. However busy Miss Quinn might be, she surely had enough time to let him return her book. The task need not have taken more than five minutes at most.

But no. She’d shut the door and closed herself off, leaving him with very little recourse when it came to getting her attention.

He grinned as he re-read the note he’d received from her that afternoon. Apparently, he’d met with success.

My determination is clearly no match for yours. I look forward to seeing you at your convenience. Ada Quinn.

Perfect. He had her given name now as well.

The notion filled his chest with a warm sort of bubbly sensation. It wasn’t satisfaction, precisely, but something more that he couldn’t quite find the word for.

Crossing to his desk, he set her note down and proceeded to write one of his own.

Miss Quinn, I am delighted to hear from you though I am still at a loss with regard to your reason for cutting me off. It is my sincerest hope that you will explain yourself to me when we meet again. If it suits you, we’ll have a picnic this coming Saturday afternoon with my fellow authors in Green Park. I’ll pick you up at three. In the meantime, I am including a re-write of what my friends and I have decided to name, A Seductive Scandal, for your perusal.

Respectfully,

Anthony Gibbs.

When no protestation to his proposal arrived in the following days, Anthony collected the picnic basket he’d ordered and set off Saturday afternoon with an extra bounce to his stride. It was curious how thrilled he was by the prospect of seeing Miss Quinn again, of chatting with her and spending a full afternoon in her company.

It wasn’t a romantic outing, he reminded himself. He’d been careful to make sure Brody and Callum would be there too. So Miss Quinn wouldn’t worry about him being too pushy after the flowers. But the way he felt told a different story from what he’d chosen to put on display.

Miss Quinn was special, the connection he’d experienced with her each time they’d met as unique as each puffy cloud in the sky. Truth was, he wanted more than friendship with her, but how was he to accomplish such a feat? Would she even welcome such a change to their relationship?

For now, he decided to keep things simple. She’d agreed to meet and this was a start. Wherever things went from there, he’d deal with it in due course.

“She’s waiting for you in the back,” Mr. Quinn informed Anthony when he arrived. The older man smiled, sent the door to the back room a hasty glance, and whispered, “Thank you for not giving up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Anthony said as he hefted the large picnic basket onto the counter and blew out a breath. Then choosing to speak from the heart, he quickly added, “Some things are worth pursuing forever.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Mr. Quinn said. He crossed to the door and opened it, allowing Anthony to catch a glimpse of Miss Quinn. She was standing with her back toward him, her hands on her hips, and her attention seemingly riveted by a large book bound in black leather. “Mr. Gibbs has arrived, Ada.”

Miss Quinn spun to face them, the look on her face suggesting she’d not heard them enter. Her lips parted, increasing her flustered appearance. She seemed to shake it off and begin searching the room. “Oh. Good. I’ll, um…just grab my bonnet. And my reticule. Maybe a shawl as well?”

Anthony dipped his head, chin to chest, and pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Unfortunately, he feared his shoulders might be shaking too much to hide his mirth. She truly was the most adorable creature he’d ever encountered.

“Ready?” he asked once she’d managed to wrap herself in a fringed length of cotton and had hidden most of her lovely blonde hair beneath a straw bonnet with a brim so large he could no longer see her eyes.

“Quite so.”

He sent her a smile and went to collect the picnic basket. Given the weight of the blasted thing, it probably would have been wise to send it ahead by carriage. Anthony tightened his grip on the handle and did his best to simultaneously open the shop door, holding it wide so Miss Quinn could exit.

They set off arm in arm, with Anthony wondering how best to broach the subject that pressed most firmly upon his mind. Eventually, he gave up trying to find a delicate way to ease into it, choosing instead to be direct.

“Will you please put me out of my misery and tell me why you began avoiding me?” He adjusted his hold on the basket. It was proving a cumbersome hindrance to a smooth pace.

She was quiet a moment before confessing, “I worried you might be bad for business.”

He choked. “I beg your pardon?”

“It was wrong to push you away without explanation,” she added. “Truth is, I’ve enjoyed your company tremendously, which is something rather unique for me since I do not make friends easily.”

“Go on,” he encouraged when she fell silent for a long while. They crossed the street and turned a corner, bringing the park entrance into view. The iron gate stood open, inviting Londoners in.

“Uncle James began having some health problems a few years ago,” Miss Quinn began. “His joints stiffen and hurt, so I’ve been helping him more than what would be deemed proper.”

“You’re referring to the book binding?”

She stumbled a little but he kept her upright. Her gaze rose to his, allowing him to see her wide-eyed expression. “How long have you known?”

He drew her closer to his side. “Since I placed the order for Miss Austen’s books.”

“Please don’t tell anyone. It’s bad enough that I’m living above the bookshop. If it becomes known that I’m binding books, it could bring scandal upon the shop’s name.”

“I think that’s ridiculous when you’re obviously very skilled.” He eyed her. “Especially since I’ve heard of other women being engaged in such trade.”

“Married women, Mr. Gibbs. Or widowed ones.” She hardened her expression. “It’s not considered appropriate for unmarried women to engage in such things.”

“Of course not,” Anthony told her dryly. “They might find forbidden knowledge between the pages of all these books and learn more than their brains can safely process. Or worse, have their souls corrupted.”

“You jest, but it is indeed a valid concern.” She directed her gaze toward the park entrance as they approached it, effectively hiding her eyes and most of her face from his view. “The book shop is Uncle James’s bread and butter. I’ll not put it at risk.”

“And you shouldn’t, but I’m still not sure how your acquaintance with me could possibly do so.”

She sighed. “I hope you won’t put too much stock in what I’m about to reveal, but the fact is I messed up an order last week. It was horribly embarrassing. I cannot even imagine how awful it must have been for Uncle James to take the blame. Fortunately the customer was a loyal one who was willing to ignore the mishap as long as we fixed the error at our own cost.”

“I see.” Strike that. Anthony wasn’t sure he saw the logic in any of this at all. “What was the mistake?”

“I labeled The History of British India by James Mills, Rob Roy instead.”

“Huh…” Realization struck and he drew her to a halt beneath the park gate, maneuvering them to one side so they didn’t block the path. “You were distracted.”

“I was.”

“By me.”

The truth and what it implied hovered between them like a fat albatross trying to find enough space on which to land. Despite her large bonnet, he saw her scrunch the tip of her nose. Adorable. It was impossible for him to keep from smiling. How could he when she’d just confessed he’d been on her mind a lot more than what he would have been if she thought of him as only a friend?

His smile broadened. “If it helps, I’ve thought of you too. At great length. Day and night.”

She shook her head just enough to convey that this did not help her in the least. “What am I supposed to do with that information?”

He stared at her. “I’m not entirely sure.”

She huffed a breath. “Perhaps we ought to discuss your story instead? I believe it might prove more productive than our current conversation.”

“All right.” They entered the park and followed a path that would take them to the out of the way spot where his friends had agreed to meet them. The air was pleasant, not too warm nor too cold, though one might think it overly chilly judging from Miss Quinn’s attire.

Anthony frowned at her while doing his best to carry the unwieldy basket the last of the distance. At some point he’d have to encourage her to unravel that shawl.

“Good day, Your Grace,” someone said, drawing his attention to Baron Deerford who was strolling in the opposite direction with his wife.

Anthony greeted the couple while noting their curious gazes – most notably directed at Ada – and quickly steered her past them.

“Your story is much improved from the previous version I read,” she told him, seemingly oblivious to the brief bit of attention they’d garnered. “I enjoyed the opening chapters a great deal and look forward to learning what happens next.”

Her comment made it easy for him to ignore the curious glances the rest of the parkgoers sent their way. His chest expanded, allowing warmth to pour in and fill him with pleasure. “Truly?”

“Yes. The hero and heroine are both compelling and there’s now the question of how they’ll manage to breach the divide between them.”

Anthony’s lips quirked. “I’ll admit I’m not sure how we’ll do it just yet. Any advice you’d like to give would be most welcome.”

“Well, he is an earl with certain expectations attached to his status. Falling for an innkeeper’s daughter is inconvenient. I suppose he’ll have to make a difficult choice at some point toward the end. There’s his reputation on one hand and the woman he loves on the other.”

Anthony’s heart gave a quick little kick in response to that word. He slowed his pace, forcing her to slow hers as well. Love. The most complicated emotion of all.

“How will he know?” He voiced the question without even thinking.

She raised her chin just enough to let him glimpse the curious look in her lovely blue eyes. “That he loves her?”

His chest tightened. “Precisely.”

“I suppose you’ll want to have him missing her when they’re apart, wondering about her well-being, possibly even fretting over her if she falls ill, or wanting to move both heaven and earth to make her happy. As Darcy does by helping Elizabeth’s sister, Lydia, out of her bind with Wickham. Doing so went against his pride, but he did it for her, to save her family’s reputation. It was a grand gesture of love made all the more so because he did not seek to be recognized for it.”

“You truly love that book, don’t you?” When she grinned and turned her face upward, he told her, “There’s a glow about you whenever you speak of it. I find it extremely compelling.”

“If luck will have it, many readers will speak of your book in the same way one day. I’ve faith in you, Mr. Gibbs, and in your friends.”

Her enthusiasm was infectious. It made him feel as he’d done the first time he’d caught a young lady’s notice. Grinning, he steered Miss Quinn toward the spot where Brody and Callum sat. Relieved to set the picnic basket down, he proceeded to make the introductions.

“We’ve heard a great deal about you, Miss Quinn,” Brody said. The hint of amusement in his eyes caused heat to wash the back of Anthony’s neck. “Apparently you’re a wealth of information with regard to romantic novels.”

“I was personally shocked when Anthony suggested we write one,” Callum said, “but his reasoning – for which I gather he has you to thank – made sense. We’ve become quite invested, actually. Now that we’ve begun, the ideas keep coming.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Miss Quinn said, the hesitance in her voice reminding Anthony that she was not used to meeting strangers.

Seemingly unsure about what to say, she took a seat on one of the two blankets Callum and Brody had brought. Anthony lowered himself beside her while his friends sat opposite. A few nearby bushes and trees shielded them slightly from the footpath, adding a bit more privacy than if they’d chosen the more open space near the park entrance.

“We’re very eager to hear you opinion,” Brody told Ada.

She cleared her throat and sent Anthony a quick glance. When he gave an encouraging nod, she said, “As I was telling Mr. Gibbs on the way ov—”

“Mr. Gibbs?” Brody gaped at her, then at Anthony, before quickly collecting himself. “Sorry. Um… You were saying?”

“He was Mr. Gibbs when we met,” Miss Quinn explained, her voice faltering slightly as though with uncertainty. “Feels strange referring to him by a different name now.”

“Agreed,” Anthony said in an effort to make her feel more at ease.

“I’m intrigued,” Callum said with a smirk. “Do go on.”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Anthony told him when he saw the high color in Ada’s cheeks. He sent his friend a look of warning before gently addressing her. “Please continue.”

“Oh… Um…” She fidgeted with her skirt. “As I mentioned to him on our way over, I’m quite impressed by your latest attempt at a novel. It’s compelling and I want to know more. What happens next, for instance?”

Anthony pulled the picnic basket into the middle of the circle they’d formed and opened it. “I’m not sure we know, which is part of the problem. Right now, our biggest issue is figuring out how the hero and heroine end up together.”

He went over the comments Miss Quinn had made on that score while Brody and Callum helped set up the tea he’d brought. “Basically, the hero has to choose the heroine no matter the cost to his reputation.”

“Which makes me wonder if his reputation presents a big enough obstacle for them,” Miss Quinn mused.

“What?” Anthony, Brody, and Callum all asked in unison.

“If the hero has enough self-esteem and a decent circle of friends willing to lend their support, what difference does it make to him what everyone else thinks?” Miss Quinn accepted the teacup Anthony handed to her with a softly spoken, “Thank you.”

“Society’s opinion is everything,” Brody explained and promptly knit his brow. “I realize that sounds rather awful, but what other peers think, their good opinion or lack thereof, can determine one’s future.”

“Fall out of grace,” Callum said, “and there’s no telling what might occur. Doors could close, denying the connections upon which we all depend so heavily.”

“And it’s not just a question of how, um…marrying down will affect the earl,” Anthony pointed out without being able to meet Miss Quinn’s gaze, “but the consequence it may have upon those nearest and dearest to him.”

“Family,” Miss Quinn said with a thoughtful nod. “One does what one can to protect them and keep them out of harm’s way. Perhaps this is an angle worth exploring in greater detail. Have you decided whether or not the earl has any siblings?”

“We considered a brother who’s chosen a military career,” Brody said.

“Why not include a younger sister – a lady with every conceivable chance of making an excellent match,” Miss Quinn said while filling her cup with the tea Anthony offered. Her posture relaxed as she spoke. “Provided her brother doesn’t create a scandal with his pursuit of an innkeeper’s daughter.”

It was impossible for Anthony to ignore the similarity she’d just created between the real situation he found himself in with her, and the fictional plot point she’d just provided. He wondered if she was aware of it. Probably not, he decided while studying the undeniable gleam of enthusiasm sparkling in her blue eyes.

“Sounds like a quagmire to me,” Callum said as he reached for one of the sandwiches Anthony’s cook had prepared.

Brody took one too. “How will we ever muddle our way through it?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Miss Quinn said as she too took a sandwich. She smiled at Anthony, a brilliant smile that instilled in him a need to slay every dragon she might encounter. “Remember, you can take a few days to do so. The reader won’t know you struggled. They’ll just be impressed that you managed to pull it off.”

All three men groaned, which apparently caused her to chuckle. It pleased him to watch her shed the discomfort she’d shown when they’d first arrived here.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Anthony asked, attempting to keep his voice light and teasing.

She grinned. “Guilty, I confess.”

Sobering, she added, “I believe your greatest challenge will be writing three different parts of the same book simultaneously. The characters and their goals must remain constant.”

“Which is why we’ve each got a copy of the plot outline,” Brody said. “We’ve also agreed to meet once a day in order to review our progress.”

Ada gave a thoughtful nod. “It’s probably also wise of you to take notes of any new details being added so all of you are made aware of them.”

“That’s not a bad idea though it might slow things down.” Callum sent her a wary look. “Your advice is good, Miss Quinn. So good I’m almost afraid to ask if you have any other ideas for how we might improve.”

Miss Quinn pursed her lips as though in consideration. “With only three chapters completed, it’s a little hard to say, but one important aspect will be your ability to bring love onto the page.”

“How do you mean?” Brody asked.

“I believe the effect you want,” Miss Quinn said, her words measured, “is for the reader to end the book with a sigh of pleasure. You want them to feel a happy sort of assurance that the characters fought their way through a tough situation and won.”

Anthony leaned back so his hands and arms supported his upper body. “And how do you propose we accomplish that?”

Miss Quinn picked a blade of grass and twiddled it loosely between her fingers. “I suppose it can be done by showing how well the hero and heroine support each other. Even if their opinions differ, they should come together as a team. Compromise is key, I would think. And then of course there are the smaller gestures that come into play. If you drop a few hints here and there about something the heroine wants to experience, for example, and then have the hero help her do it, this would show that he’s been paying attention to her, that he cares about her, and that her happiness matters to him. The same is true for her of course. If he visits the inn, for example, and mentions how sorry he is to learn that they no longer make the dessert he’d been hoping to try, she could ask him to wait while she goes and makes it.”

“Hmm…” A pensive look had come over Brody’s face. “I believe I’m starting to understand what you mean. Basically, we need to show the reader that these two are willing to do more for each other than what they might do for their friends or family.”

“I’m sure they’d do a great deal for their family too,” Miss Quinn said, “because they love them. The hero and heroine need to be included in that circle of love. The fiercer that love is, the greater the lengths they’ll be willing to go to in order to stand by each other, the more powerful the experience will be for the reader.”

“Your ability to clarify this is rather remarkable,” Callum said with the same sense of awe Anthony had begun feeling toward her at some point since their first meeting. “It sounds like you speak from experience, so I hope you won’t take offense to my asking if you’ve ever known such a love.”

Anthony sucked in a breath and held it while doing his best to keep his expression neutral. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that this might explain why Miss Quinn was so well versed in romance.

Her uncle had said she’d no interest in marriage, but maybe her stance on this had changed. Perhaps she had a secret beau. It was possible, given her age. And what if she did? Would it make any difference to Anthony?

Yes, was the resounding answer knocking about in his head.

She took a deep breath and chuckled lightly. “I’m afraid I’ve not been so lucky.”

The relief washing through him was so intense he almost sagged beneath the weight of it. Thank God. Her heart remained unattached.

“I’m surprised,” Brody said. “In light of your beauty and charm, I’d imagine you having a number of suitors.”

Anthony scowled at him. The scoundrel would do well to flirt with anyone other than Miss Ada Quinn.

A pink hue darkened her cheeks. “I’m afraid not. Truth is they’d have a hard time meeting me in the first place, seeing as I rarely go anywhere. I’m not a social person and—”

“Westcliffe,” a shrill voice called, much to Anthony’s chagrin.

He turned to see Viscount Ebberly’s dreaded daughter, Miss Amanda Starling, striding toward them with one of her friends. Dressed in a gown far too lavish for walking, the slim, petite blonde looked like a doll with her pale porcelain features framed by carefully arranged curls.

Suppressing a groan, Anthony excused himself to Miss Quinn and stood. As did Brody and Callum.

“Miss Starling,” Anthony said, his mouth stretched into a tight smile. “What a surprise.”

“Indeed it is,” she purred as she came to stand before Anthony. “But not a sorry one, I must say. It’s always a great pleasure to see you. You know my friend, Lady Edwina, of course.”

Anthony gave both ladies a curt bow. “A pleasure.”

Brody and Callum followed suit while Miss Quinn got up, so she too was now standing. Anthony gestured toward her. “Allow me to present my very good friend, Miss Quinn.”

“Ah.” Miss Starling raised her dainty nose and peered at Miss Quinn as though she were a flawed piece of art. “Delighted, I’m sure.”

Anthony gnashed his teeth and prayed the woman would wish them all a good day and move on. Instead, she turned a dazzling smile on him. “I’ve written your sisters today as promised and have asked them to join me for tea on Saturday. In exchange, I trust you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

Anthony blinked at the reminder. Damn the bloody deal. He’d completely forgotten about it. So much had happened since, but he supposed he was grateful to her for paying his sisters attention. However much he dreaded Miss Starling setting her sights on him, he had to acknowledge the benefit of her acquaintance.

“I am a man of my word,” Anthony told her, forcing the words out while doing his best not to look like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

“Then I shall look forward to seeing you again soon.” She sent Miss Quinn a quick smile before leaning in to whisper, just loud enough for all to hear, “Papa has the marriage contract drawn up. All you need do is sign.”

Anthony stood, rooted to the ground, unable to utter a word as she and her friend swept away.

“Marriage contract?” Brody asked, jolting Anthony out of his frozen state. “You can’t be serious.”

“I…um…” Anthony raked his fingers through his hair.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Miss Quinn said, her voice a touch uneven. “It’s getting late and I ought to return to the shop.”

“But we’ve not had the cake yet,” Anthony said. Turning toward her he noted the anxious look in her eyes right before she dipped her head to hide the emotion. “Please stay a while longer.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s been a pleasure meeting you both, Your…um…Graces?”

Brody grinned. “The pleasure was entirely ours, I assure you, Miss Quinn.”

“If you give me a moment to gather everything,” Anthony said, already lowering into a crouch and reaching for Miss Quinn’s half empty teacup, “I’ll escort you.”

“There’s really no need,” she said, prompting him to glance up and to see the tight smile she wore. “I am perfectly able to find my way back. And as you have just said, there’s still cake. I see no reason for my early departure to deny you and your friends.”

“But—”

“Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Mr. Gibbs. It has been most enlightening.”

Anthony wanted to say something more. He wanted to leap to his feet and reach out and stop her. Clearly the interaction with Miss Starling and what it suggested had put her off. She was retreating from him and while he longed to explain his relationship with Miss Starling, he worried he might be leaping to the wrong conclusion.

For what if Miss Quinn’s hasty departure had nothing to do with Miss Starling and everything to do with her obligation toward her uncle? She had made it clear that she could not stay out too long. So if he began explaining himself and what his relationship with Miss Starling entailed, she might believe him to be too forward.

By chasing after Miss Quinn and assuring her Miss Starling meant nothing to him, he would practically be declaring himself. And for what? In what sort of world could a duke find his happily ever after with a shopkeeper’s niece who lacked connections?

“We’re still waiting for an explanation,” Brody said, disrupting Anthony’s thoughts. “You cannot possibly mean to tell us that you’re engaged to Miss Starling.”

“I’m not,” Anthony said. “It’s complicated with her.”

“No more so than it is with Miss Quinn, I’ll wager,” Callum murmured. “She’s lovely, by the way, and the two of you seem to get along famously.”

His friend was spot on, but the situation was more than what he described. With Miss Quinn, Anthony felt relaxed and comfortable. Being with her was like being with someone he’d not even known he’d been missing. It was magical and it scared the living hell out of him.