“Then please point it at the floor and not at my person.”
The elderly gent did as ordered. “I heard a commotion, my lord, and came to investigate. Not knowing what to expect I came armed for trouble.”
“I did not create a commotion. I was as quiet as death.”
“Still, I heard you. What are you doing here, sir? Are you moving back in? Should I rouse the servants to start setting everything back to rights?”
“Don’t rouse anyone. I’m simply looking for the copy ofMr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies.” He found some irony in the original title lacking the apostrophe that he’d accused the name of Miss Trewlove’s shop of not having. Published in the early part of the seventeenth century, the leather-bound book contained the original versions of his plays. One of Matthew’s ancestors had managed to purchase one of the only seven hundred and fifty copies printed. “Any notion as to where I might find it?”
Jenkins craned his neck, looking around the library, his eyes wide as though a horde of invaders had suddenly made an appearance. “No, my lord. Although I believe the rarest books are up there.” He nodded toward the shelves at the top of the staircase.
“You might be correct on that score.” He walked over to the desk, the only piece of furniture not shrouded. A large silver bowl was filled to overflowing with bits of vellum.
“The invitations you’ve received, sir.” Jenkins approached. Even in slippers, he made not a sound. The man had long ago mastered the art of not being heard or being seen as an intrusion when he entered a room. Often he left with no one the wiser. “As they weren’t on the list of items to be sent round to you, I wasn’t quite certain what to do with them.”
Toss them in the firewould no doubt give the butler an apoplectic fit. Matthew was relatively certain that for some of the events, the time for attending was past. Still a modicum of civility remained in him, and he knew he should at least send acknowledgment of having received them. “I’ll take them with me.”
“Very good, my lord.” Jenkins seemed far too relieved by that answer.
“In the future, include them with the letters that arrive in the post that you have brought to me every few days.” If something appeared urgent, it was brought to him immediately. Otherwise, he saw no point in constantly sending a footman out.
“As you wish, sir.”
Then he could toss them in the fire and save Jenkins the worry over them.
“Another matter I need you to take care of for me. When I find the book, I’ll leave it here on the desk with a note.” He took a piece of foolscap out of a drawer, dipped his pen in the inkwell, and scrawled Fancy Trewlove’s name and the address of the bookshop across the paper. “I want you to wrap up the book with the note and have it sent to this address. Don’t use the post.” The postmark would indicate the post office from which it had begun its journey, and he didn’t want her to know it came from Mayfair. “It is to have no markings on it to indicate from whom or from where it originated. Have a footman deliver it, but he is not to be dressed in livery and is not to use one of my marked carriages. It is a gift, but it is to be an anonymous one.”
“It will be delivered with the utmost discretion. Shall I help you search for the book, my lord?”
“No. I’ve disturbed your slumber long enough as it is. Good night, Jenkins.”
“I’ll have the servants put matters back to rights in the morning, sir.” He glanced over at the one exposed bookcase before once again meeting Matthew’s gaze. “Good night, my lord.”
After his butler silently shuffled out, Matthew returned to the shelves where he thought he’d last seen the book. The tome was taller than most, which should have made it easier to find but his relations had collected a goodly number of tall books. The one for which he searched should probably be stored under glass. He had little doubt Miss Trewlove would give it the care it needed.
It was an expensive gift he was going to bestow upon her, but knew of no one who would appreciate it more.
Three hours later, he found the tome exactly where Jenkins had predicted it would be: on the upper floor. With a great deal of care, he set it on the desk, pulled out another bit of foolscap, and considered the message that should accompany it. Finally, with his expert penmanship, he scrawled out the words.
It is in want of someone who will appreciate, love, and cherish it.
As he strode from the room, he had the uncomfortable sensation that he’d been referring to himself more than the book.
Chapter 8
“I think you’re going to enjoyThe Moonstonevery much indeed, Mr. Harper.” Fancy couldn’t help but believe that Mr. Sommersby would also enjoy the mystery and wondered if he’d read it.
“I’m looking forward to reading it, Miss Trewlove, which isn’t something I ever said before you taught me my letters.”
“You were a fast learner. I’m ever so glad you found the effort worth your while.”
Once the transaction was completed and Mr. Harper took his leave, she gave the shop a quick perusal. Two ladies had come in together and were browsing the area where they were most likely to find a story that involved a grand love, while a gentleman was searching through her travel books. She’d already offered to help each of them, but they preferred looking on their own. She certainly understood that. Before she had her own shop, she’d spent hours in bookshops or combing through bookstalls searching for the perfect story to take home with her.
Saturday was usually her favorite day of the week because she generally had a few more customers. Several people, including a mother with her three children, were upstairs in the reading parlor. Marianne was keeping a watch on things up there. Fancy needed to hire someone to assist her clerk during the hours when she, herself, might not be available. The notion of asking Mr. Sommersby if he’d like to take on the job flashed through her mind, but she quickly squelched it. She didn’t know why she was intent on making opportunities to have him about. Perhaps because, like the book she’d just sold, he was a mystery.
The bell above the door tinkled and an elderly gentleman carrying a large brown wrapped package secured with string wandered in, stopped, and glanced around to take in every nook and cranny. It always amazed her that people resided in this area whom she had yet to meet, but then as it was growing and expanding more were moving in. “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?”
Swinging his gaze back to her, he removed his hat to reveal pale gray eyes. “Miss Fancy Trewlove?”
