“Not as yet,” he admitted.
“Ah,” I replied, then added in Latin, “non potest iudicare quod quis non legit.”One cannot judge what one has not read. Admittedly, I was not familiar with the Greek version of that particular bit of wisdom.
“Quite so,” he replied with more than a little surprise as I handed the book back to him.
“I look forward to reading it,” he admitted with a bit of bemused curiosity.
“I look forward to your reading it,” I replied.
Another man who had been waiting in line, looked very much like a bookkeeper or possibly a librarian, somewhat nervous I thought, surrounded by several women. He shifted the glasses he wore and smiled hesitantly.
“This is for my wife,” he explained, pushing the glasses back up his nose again. “She has read your other books.”
I asked her name, then signed the book.“For Jane, thank you. Emma Fortescue.”
I had long adopted the habit of signing as my other self. It avoided confusion, even though there were those who knew that Emma Fortescue was purely a fictionalized person.
I shared tea and biscuits with Lily and customers who lingered. I answered questions and shared small bits of otheradventures with them, as the manager of Hatchards brought out more books for people to purchase.
“Miss Emma Fortescue, I presume?”
The voice was articulate, educated in that way of those who attended Harrow or Eton, but with a faint shadow of some other accent, possibly from having traveled abroad. It had a way of slipping into one’s speech after a time.
“Or should I say, Lady Forsythe?”
There was recognition on the gentleman’s part. Mine came somewhat more slowly.
“I realize that it has been some time,” he added. “Cairo and the pyramids beyond for several weeks,” he said then as I hesitated.
“Admittedly, I am a bit older now,” he continued. “However are you unchanged? And, obviously quite successful,” he added with a glance about the crowded shop.
“And, if I may say so, quite extraordinary as well. You were never shy, as I remember. A young woman traveling alone cannot be that. But you have changed in the intervening time.” He reached out and took my hand.
“And most excellently, I must say.”
“Sir James Redstone,” I replied, as the memory came back.
“It has been almost eight years since Egypt,” he admitted. “And as I recall, your first adventure abroad.”
“I believe it was almost ten years ago,” I replied.
He smiled then, “However, a pleasure to see you again. I have only just returned from abroad and learned of this event.” He glanced about the shop.
“You seem to have done quite well for yourself,” he complimented. “Your second novel?”
“It’s her sixth novel,” Lily boldly corrected him.
“And who might this young lady be?” he asked with what appeared to be amusement.
Not to be set aside, Lily replied, “Miss Mikaela and Mr. Brodie’s ward.”
Admittedly her manners needed to be polished, however there was a noticeable sharpness in her answer. I introduced her to Sir James.
“That must have been a bad injury,” she added looking at his other hand.
I had noticed the absence of his ring finger and the smaller one next to it, a new injury obviously more recent since our last acquaintance.
“Must make it difficult to lift a pint.”
