By the time he reached the door, she’d already gone. The square window was empty, framing nothing but rain-washed city. Nigel burst out onto the step, wild hair flopping in his eyes. Addle Street was growing busier by the moment, and hecast a desperate gaze back and forth. There! On the opposite sidewalk, across the road—he’d recognize that neat green suit anywhere. The young woman strode away at a quick pace, arms wrapped around her body and shoulders hunched. His own black umbrella hung from her elbow.
“Miss Talbot!” Nigel cried and plunged into the street. A blaring horn burst in his ear, and he narrowly avoided being clipped by an automagic machine, belching thaumaturgical exhaust in its wake. Somehow he managed to achieve the far sidewalk in one piece just in time to see that green suit disappear up Nettleton Lane.
Nigel broke into a sprint, leaping over the outstretched legs of a street musician, who sat with his back to the brick wall, idly tuning an ancient violin. Using a convenient streetlamp pole to swing himself around a sharp bend, Nigel shouted at the top of his voice, “Miss Talbot, wait!”
Up ahead, the slim, hunch-shouldered figure paused. Then she turned.
Under the full light of the sun, she was just as glorious a creature as she had appeared in the stormy gloom, but this morning, her doe-brown eyes were hollow, overlarge in their sockets. This in no way diminished her otherworldly beauty—if anything, it made her all the more compelling. Even from this distance, the mere sight of her was enough to make Nigel’s pulse jolt and his tongue feel suddenly thick behind his teeth. For a moment, he stood stock still at the head of the street, unable either to move or to speak.
Then her searching gaze landed on him. She blinked twice, without recognition, before her expression cleared. A smile burst across her lips. If the sun weren’t already shining bright that morning, Nigel would have thought he’d come face-to-face with an incarnation of the Dawn Angel herself.
“Mr. Grimm!” she exclaimed. “Why, what are you doing out here? I called at the shop, but no one answered, and I thought perhaps . . . well, perhaps you were . . . perhaps you didn’t really mean . . .” Her smile faltered, and her gaze skittered sideways.
Nigel realized suddenly how carefully she pressed her left wrist up against her wool jacket. Did she think his job offer of yesterday insincere? Hastily he closed the distance between them, rather out of breath. “Indeed, Miss Talbot,” he said, smoothing his hair back with one hand, “I am glad of your arrival. I . . . I simply wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“You did say eight-thirty, didn’t you? I suppose I am a little early.”
As though on cue, the chantry bells over on Giltspur Street began tolling out the half-hour. Nigel flushed. “My . . . my watch must have stopped,” he said and attempted to fish it from his pocket only to discover he’d forgotten it entirely in his rush to dress.
Miss Talbot’s gaze took him in, running down his haphazardly buttoned shirt and flapping waistcoat before gliding up to his unshaven face and slept-on hair. Gods above, if she didn’t take him for a madman and quit on the spot, it would be a miracle!
But she merely thrust out his umbrella, holding it between them. “Here, Mr. Grimm,” she said. “Thanks again for the loan.”
“Oh, of course. Any time.” Nigel reached for the offering. For an instant, their fingertips brushed. A spark seemed to jump from her skin to his, shooting up his arm and straight to his heart, where it burst in multicolored hues. He swallowed hard, blood draining from his face.
Miss Talbot narrowed her eyes at him, taking a step back and tilting her head. “You look as though you could use a spot of tea.”
Suddenly, though he had never once felt that way before in his life, Nigel was convinced nothing in the world would do himmore good. “Yes. I suppose you’re right,” he managed. “How about you come back to the shop, and I’ll put the kettle on?”
“How about you letmehandle the tea this morning, Mr. Grimm,” Miss Talbot said, turning with him to retrace their steps to The Arcane Bouquet.
“I have a tea cozy,” he offered lamely.
“Do you, now?” Her eyebrow lifted. “Well, I’m sure we shall manage admirably then, shan’t we?”
In something of a haze, Nigel escorted the young lady back to the shop, managing to cross the street safely, despite being dangerously unaware of the world around him. They arrived to find the door standing wide open, but no customers had pilfered his flowers while he was away. Debbie emerged from the stairwell in a flurry of black feathers just as they stepped inside, croaking dire invocations as she settled onto her skull-pot.
“Good morning, Debbie,” Miss Talbot said politely and set her little purse down on the counter, before turning to take in the bright blooms. It appeared very different in the new morning light than it had yesterday, and Nigel hoped she liked what she saw. “This all looks well enough!” She turned her smile his way. “Right. I suppose we’ve got to finish getting everything ready before tea. Shall I move some of these flowers out under the front awning, then? Which do you think would be best?”
Nigel remembered suddenly her notion of outdoor displays mentioned yesterday. The idea still made very little sense to his brain. What was there to stop hooligans from simply stealing his wares? But Miss Talbot looked at him with such expectation, he found himself saying, “I, erm, I’ll leave that to your discretion.”
Miss Talbot puckered her lips thoughtfully, tapping her cheek with one finger as she looked around at the floral bounty. “My gracious!” she exclaimed, noting a large display of potted daffodils, yellow petals unfurled like sunrays. “I didn’t realize these were in season. They are quite eye-catching, aren’tthey? And maybe those yellow daises, they look so sweet and welcoming.”
She bustled to work, hauling not one, but four pots of daffodils out onto the front step. She added two buckets brimming with long-stemmed daisies, all while Nigel stood behind the counter, watching her in some bewilderment.
Debbie reached over and plucked at his unbuttoned waistcoat.“Never mind!”
“I wasn’t staring!” Nigel answered sharply, glaring at the bird. He quickly set to work fastening his waistcoat properly. “But you must admit,” he added as his gaze wandered back to the windows, “she has a . . . awayabout her.”
The raven made a sound which, in another creature, might be a growl.
“You’re just jealous.” Nigel lifted an eyebrow. “Youdidn’t think of taking the displays outdoors, did you?”
She ruffled her feathers.
“True, it hasn’t paid off yet. But at least it’s a fresh idea, and we can certainly use a little . . .” His voice trailed off.
While Miss Talbot was busy at the window perfecting her display, a gentleman stopped on the sidewalk and tipped his hat to her. An actual gentleman, in striped trousers, a gray morning jacket, and a silk cravat. Very dapper indeed, on his way to pay morning calls. And, judging by the width of his mustachioed smile, quite charmed by the lovely young woman he’d just encountered on the sidewalk.
