Lily picked up one of my books. “You wrote this?” she exclaimed as she slowly read my name.
“I might be able to read it real soon. Her ladyship says that I’m verra quick with my lessons.”
That could be most interesting, I thought, as Mr. Warren joined us.
I introduced Lily to him.
“Ye’re the one Miss Lenore is keeping company with,”she replied.
I did hope she hadn’t just insulted Mr. Warren. He looked over at me with some amusement.
“I suppose the answer would be yes,” he replied.
Lily, smart as a whip, quickly came to both our rescue.
“That’s it,” she explained. “She said as how you was a right smart-lookin’ sort.”
Of course that was in comparison with some of the customers Lily might have encountered at the brothel in Edinburgh. Never let it be said that she didn’t say exactly what she was thinking.
My aunt was working on her social skills as well as her education, however Lily’s lapse in manners was a word of warning to me. Although I found her blunt honesty somewhat reminiscent of my own outspokenness.
I gave Mr. Warren a sympathetic smile. “Lily has recently come to London and is presently staying with my aunt. Lenore is assisting with art lessons.”
“I do believe she mentioned something about that,” he commented. “Most admirable of yourself and Lady Montgomery. Perhaps a subject for a future book?” he suggested.
I could only imagine what that might include.
“We are to attend a gallery showing this evening. Two of your sister’s paintings will be on display,” he continued. “I’m quite excited for her. Did she pass along any note, perhaps?”
She hadn’t. But then she had been fully involved with the recital and then the aftermath of Lily’sunexpectedperformance.
“She’s waited for this for a long time,” I replied and assured him. “I’m so very glad that you support her in this.”
“Of course!” he enthusiastically replied. “And she is so very talented. Artistic talent seems to run in the family.”
I did like Mr. Warren very much and hoped that my sister didn’t send him off as she had other men following the demise of her marriage. And that was the only word for it— demise, as in death!
“Come along then,” he said, taking our coats. “You have the table, just there. I’ve had a pen set out so that you may sign the books along with any comment you wish to add. We have found that readers do like the personal touch, as if they are part of… your adventures.
“If you are asked when your next book will be available,” he continued, “we have scheduled it for May of the coming year. And of course, they may also purchase previous books and follow Miss Emma Fortescue’s other adventures.”
I thanked him for meeting me at the shop. I was aware that not all publishers made that gesture. Certainly not my first publisher, who had called my first two books,“Outlandish accounts of a wayward young woman.”
I learned they had been published as a “favor” to my aunt. I had then met Mr. Warren, who was very near Brodie’s age and without the usual bias against books written by a woman. Most particularly adventure books about a young woman who“flaunted the usual conventions of society,”as one critic— obviously a man— had commented in the dailies.
Mr. Warren had embraced the books and Emma Fortescue as a well-educated, modern young woman, and those who read them as,“quenching a thirst for departure from the same roles of their mothers before them, before they were allowed to wear split walking skirts, ride bicycles, and partake in sports.”
My books had become surprisingly successful. They were read wrapped inside the daily newspaper, discussed at ladies’ club meetings, and had resulted in an invitation for me to speak to the Ladies Auxiliary League regarding women’s rights.
I had declined at the time, as I was quite involved in solving a murder case with Brodie. And there was that other part of my response that I hadn’t mentioned. I preferred the anonymity of the pen name that allowed me to come and go about as needed in my work with Brodie.
It was Brodie, quite surprisingly, who suggested that I accept Mr. Warren’s proposal for readers to meet with the author— namely myself. In addition, he had been most encouraging of the time I was spending on the next book— during a time that he was increasingly well occupied at the Agency.
I frowned. It seemed he was far too occupied with the Agency of late, particularly since our return from Scotland. And he had been quite secretive about it.
“I’m very excited for this latest book,” Mr. Warren now commented. “I do believe people, including men, will find it exciting.” He nodded toward the line of patrons that did indeed contain at least two men.
I had taken a chair at the table while Lily had taken herself off to explore the bookstore.
