“Oh, she does,” Gideon said. “But she thinks it’ll make more of an impact on society if I wait to do that until Adelaide arrives at the official opening of the Season, looking quite unlike herself, what with how Camilla is giving her a style renovation. Camilla has also decided that I’m to approach Adelaide in a besotted fashion and then adopt a smitten expression before I take hold of Adelaide’s hand and beseech her to grant me the honor of two dances as well as secure her company at dinner.”
A snort was Roland’s first response to that. “I’d love to be there to see that because I wouldn’t think you’re capable of summoning up a smitten expression, let alone pulling off a credible beseeching scene.”
“Camilla came to that very same conclusion after asking me to show her my smitten look,” Gideon admitted. “She immediatelyset up a meeting for me with Mr. Morton Gimbel last week.”
“The actor?”
“One and the same. Camilla’s a sponsor of Gimbel’s latest show, which is why he agreed to give me some pointers in the acting department.”
“I would have enjoyed seeing that as well.”
Gideon grinned. “There wasn’t much to see. Mr. Gimbel gave me a few exercises, which I apparently failed, then told me I would never have a career treading the boards. In all honesty, I was somewhat offended because I’ve often assumed different identities and have done so with great success, although...” He tilted his head. “I’ve never been tested by assuming the role of lovesick suitor before. Nevertheless, when Mr. Gimbel began pointing out how deficient I was with acting in general, I’m afraid I may have become slightly irritated. That then led him to state that, while I was incapable of summoning up a smitten expression, I was rather good at evoking a threatening one.”
“I doubt Camilla wants you gazing threateningly at Adelaide come the opening ball of the Season.”
“Quite, which is why she’s now tasked me with the unpleasant business of practicing those exercises Mr. Gimbel gave me in front of my mirror every morning. Don’t tell Camilla this, but I’m not making much headway in the improved smitten-expression department.”
As Roland immediately began to chortle, Gideon directed his attention out the window as the carriage began to slow and then pulled to the side of the street, coming to a stop five carriages behind the hansom cab they’d been following. “Looks like Lottie has some business to attend to on Bleecker Street.”
A moment later, Duncan, an associate who doubled as his groomsman, opened the door and leaned into the carriage. “Lottie just entered Herzfeld Haberdashery, but she kept lookingover her shoulder before she disappeared inside, as if she might suspect she’s being followed.”
Roland glanced to Gideon. “It’ll be up to you to shadow her then, because you look more like a gentleman who’d shop in a haberdashery than I ever would. I’ll have our driver take me down to Clinton Street and park there. I’ll keep a lookout and take over for you if she continues down the street.”
Sending Roland a nod, Gideon stepped from the carriage and patted his jacket to ascertain the pistol he never went anywhere without was easily accessible. After instructing Duncan to linger on the sidewalk to be available to tail Lottie once she left the store, Gideon began sauntering for Herzfeld Haberdashery in the casual manner he’d perfected over the years. He was greeted directly inside the door by a dapperly dressed gentleman who inquired what he was shopping for, then stepped aside with a smile when Gideon told him he was merely browsing.
It didn’t take long to spot Lottie McBriar standing in front of a counter that housed a cash register as a man wrapped something in brown paper. Edging around a rack of ready-made jackets, Gideon lingered on a tweed one done up in a muted shade of green, glancing to Lottie out of the corner of his eye every few seconds.
It wasn’t a surprise, given her involvement with the criminal set, that she wasn’t a girl who stood out in a crowd, dressed in a simple gown of inexpensive muslin, her brown hair tucked underneath an inconspicuous hat, a large, battered reticule hanging from her wrist.
What was a surprise, though, was her articulate speech once she began speaking to the man after he tied up the package with twine and handed it to her.
“Thank you, Mr. Herzfeld. Mr. Fitzsimmons is always pleased when his customers are prompt with their ... fees.” Lottie tucked the small package into the large bag looped around her arm. “I’ll be certain to tell him that you had everythingready for me today instead of having me wait, a consideration that not all of Mr. Fitzsimmons’s customers afford me.”
Mr. Herzfeld sent Lottie a small smile before he inclined his head, his smile fading after she turned on her heel and strode for the door.
As Lottie breezed out of the shop, Gideon lingered for a moment before following her, keeping an eye on Mr. Herzfeld, who had taken to muttering something about Frank Fitzsimmons being the bane of his existence. A bane, no doubt, because Frank was evidently extorting the locals—something Gideon would need to address in the foreseeable future.
After two minutes had passed, he told Mr. Herzfeld he’d be back another day to shop when he had more time, then headed through the store and out the door, Duncan brushing past him to tell him Lottie was now wandering around a perfumery. Stepping into the shop next to the perfumery, Gideon waited until he saw Lottie stroll past, gave her thirty seconds, then followed her, hanging back on the crowded sidewalk as she spent the next thirty minutes walking down Bleecker Street, stopping in various stores, probably to retrieve payments for Frank, before she went into Nina’s Bakery. Delicious smells wafted into the street after she opened the door.
Gideon was tempted to follow her when his stomach rumbled, but before he could act on the temptation, Lottie was out the door again, clutching a pastry wrapped in paper, one she began nibbling on as she continued down the street. When she disappeared into a redbrick building with a green-striped awning over the front door, he increased his pace, coming to a stop when he took note of the sign over the door, one that saidBainswright Books—a shop he’d been meaning to investigate for the past few weeks since Adelaide had mentioned she frequently visited this particular bookstore.
Allowing another thirty seconds to pass before he reached for the doorknob, Gideon stepped into the store, smiling whenthe scent of old leather and dust tickled his nose. Glancing around, he found himself in a surprisingly large room, one that suggested that at some point the owners had acquired the adjacent building, knocked out a few walls, and then created a store that was filled to the brim with tables and shelves stuffed with books. A circular staircase with a wrought-iron railing located halfway down the wall on the right suggested there were additional books located on the second floor.
He began weaving his way around a table displaying an impressive collection of dime novels, faltering just a touch when he realized Lottie was standing five feet away from him, her lips thinning when her gaze met his, lending the impression his cover might have been blown. Inclining his head to her in the hopes she would think he was a polite gentleman out for some shopping, he headed for a table stacked high with a vast assortment of leather-bound books, a plan to salvage the situation presenting itself when he discovered Adelaide perusing a stack of books a table away.
The very sight of her caused a feeling of anticipation to thrum through him, something he experienced every time he arrived at Camilla’s house for another evening of dancing.
It was becoming remarkably evident that Adelaide was the breath of fresh air he’d not even realized he needed, one that dispersed the stench of malfeasance that clung to him after mingling with men who relinquished their morals at the first hint of profitability. A moment in Adelaide’s company left him feeling charitable toward the world again, most likely because she was a lady who’d experienced her fair share of unkindness and yet it hadn’t left her bitter—far from it.
Shaking aside his thoughts when he realized he was standing stock-still, grinning as he considered Adelaide, he strode into motion, stopping directly beside her and praying she’d play along with the plan that had sprung to mind to distract Lottie McBriar from any suspicions she might have about him.
“Forgive me for being so tardy,” he began, his words causing Adelaide’s head to shoot up as she turned his way. “I forgot what store I was supposed to meet you at today and have spent the past thirty minutes wandering around Bleecker Street, hoping to catch sight of you.”
Adelaide didn’t miss a beat, although her eyes began sparkling in a most telling fashion. “I’m certain I must bear some of the blame for that, Mr., ah...” Her voice trailed off as if she’d just realized he might not want her to use his name. A second later, she hitched a smile into place, revealing a dimple by the side of her mouth that he’d never noticed before. “I know we discussed shopping at this bookstore because you wanted my assistance with picking out a present for your, ah, grandmother. However, I may have also mentioned I needed to purchase some new, um ... furs today, which might have left you confused regarding where to meet me. There’s a furrier five shops down.”
“Furs?”
She gave a bob of her head. “Rumor has it the first big storm of the year is brewing offshore. I’m afraid my furs from last winter aren’t in the best of shape.”
