“And this book was in George’s store and you believe important?”
“I was in his store holding it. I felt like I shouldn’t have been and that George wanted no one to touch it,” Ellen said. “Which makes absolutely no sense.”
“Well, if it’s an expensive and rare book, then it does, and a possible title with those initials is theBlackstead Bestiarywritten by Pierre Rosterman in the 1300s. It’s highly sought after and worth a great deal.”
“Yes,” Aunt Ivy said. “I remember it was sold recently here in London to a private collector.”
“Do you think that could have been George?” Ellen asked.
“There were many interested, and most would have paid a lot of money for it. I guess it depends if George had the funds or purchased it on behalf of someone,” Aunt Ivy said.
“Do you think it is connected to his murder?”
“I don’t think we can discount it, but we also don’t know if it is this book or, for that matter, the original. George could have simply had a copy. But it is information we must pass on to Gray,” Uncle Bram said.
“Perhaps you need to go back to the bookshop and have Gray meet you there. He has been avoiding us since the night Mungo and Alex took him home,” Aunt Ivy said. “This could be a good reason for us to make contact with him because I feel this family is good for the uptight detective.”
“I’m not sure he would feel that way,” Ellen added.
“He will, niece. We just need to force ourselves on him like a new pair of shoes—eventually they fit well,” Uncle Bram said.
“I should imagine he may have woken with a sore head and a healthy dose of embarrassment,” Aunt Ivy said.
“Do we want him to fit into this household?” Ellen asked, curious as to what they would say.
“He is a good man, Ellen, and worthy of our company. From what I gather, he does not have many people who are close to him in his life, and that is sad.”
“I am sure he is a good man, Uncle Bram. As I’m sure you would not have let him into our home for a meal if he were not,” Ellen said.
“I always think you can tell the character of a man by the way he is with children,” Aunt Ivy said.
Ellen wasn’t sure why they were talking to her like this and was certain she didn’t want to know.
“I will go to the markets this morning and select flowers for the house. When I return, I’ll send word to the detective and tell him of my vision,” Ellen said.
“Very well, but Mungo will drive you.”
“I had thought to walk.”
“And now you will drive,” Uncle Bram said in that tone she knew well.
“Very well.”
“And niece,” Uncle Bram said as she reached the door.
“Yes?”
“Remember that not all men will treat you as your ex-fiancé did. Some will respect you and see you as their equal.”
She nodded, unsure what to say to that. Did her aunt and uncle think that she felt something for Gray? Their words would suggest that as the case. But how had they known? She and the detective had barely spent time together.
An hour later,Ellen was on her way to the market, still mulling over the conundrum that was Grayson Fletcher. Perhaps she would invite him for tea with the family again because while she did not understand yet what she felt for the man, or for that matter if she wanted to, she did think her uncle was right. Gray did not have many people close to him in his life, and her family were wonderful, if sometimes annoying, people.
Ellen loved the flower market and often did the ordering for the household. Her family allowed her this time and had since she’d first visited the place and declared she enjoyed it. Of course, there was usually Mungo waiting for her just outside the gate, but Ellen felt as if this was her little slice of independence. Something she’d never had living with her parents.
When the carriage stopped, she stepped down, received, and listened to the lecture from Mungo he delivered every time. If she had not returned at the exact time stipulated, he would come looking for her.
“Don’t talk to anyone,” Mungo snapped.
