“I might have sent Lottie’s suspicion meter ratcheting up a notch,” she admitted.
“She just got here.”
“True, but she’s evidently very canny, and she caught me in a lie when I told her you were here to add to your collection. Unfortunately, she overheard you tell the book agents you don’t collect books.”
He reached out and gave her arm a small squeeze. “I wouldn’t worry overly much about that. If she’s here to scope out the diary, she won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
“But I was hoping to make her comfortable around me and perhaps slip about something important.”
He grinned and leaned closer. “Girls like Lottie don’t slip, but again, don’t worry about it. She won’t be going anywhere for a while.”
Adelaide checked her watch again. “I hope you’re right, but to err on the side of caution, I think we should gather everyone and start the salon. The sooner we get down to business, the sooner we can get this ended, and then hopefully someone will make a move after everyone leaves.”
“And you will be leaving as well.”
“I know,” she muttered.
“There’s no need to be forlorn about that, Adelaide,” Gideon said quietly. “I promised you I’d tell you every detail if something happens. For now, though, let me fetch everyone who went upstairs. Then I’ll stop by the back room and check in with Charles. He’ll only need to guard the back door until Roland and some other associates take over for him. I told them to wait to take their places until quarter past the hour, thinking that anyone who’s coming to the salon should be here by then.” He sent a glance to the dapperly dressed men he’d recently been speaking with. “I think I’ll ask Charles to strike up a conversation with those gentlemen. They told me they’re book agents visiting the city from Boston, on the lookout for old diaries,which suggests Frank has let it be known far and wide that he’s on the lookout for a specific diary. I didn’t want to press them on the matter, but perhaps we can have Charles say something about being here because he’s looking for a diary and see how those men react.”
After Adelaide nodded, Gideon strode for the stairs, leaving Adelaide to return to the pile of books she’d been unpacking. It took her three trips to get all the books settled on an empty table, making certain to place the diary she’d rewrapped in brown paper to make it appear as if she’d never opened it on the top of one of the stacks she’d made. Retrieving her reticule from where she’d stashed it on a chair, she jumped ever so slightly when Lottie, in the company of Jeromy Hopkins, was suddenly standing beside her, both of their gazes settled on the wrapped package.
“My dear Miss Duveen,” Jeromy began, nodding to the diary. “May I dare hope you’ve decided to offer a door prize this evening, a mystery book that will only be revealed once you choose a winner?”
“What a wonderful idea, but alas, I didn’t even consider that,” Adelaide said as she picked up the diary. “Sadly, there’s nothing mysterious about the book underneath the paper. It’s a dilapidated old diary written by a young girl—Juliette Watson, if memory serves me correctly. I found it a few weeks back in that crate everyone was wrangling over and never got around to unwrapping it. I decided, as I was sorting through some of my books to find ones to offer up for sale this evening, that I might offer this one as well. I have at least twenty old diaries left in my collection and don’t actually have room to add more, especially not one that has a broken binding and is probably missing a great many pages.” She shook her head. “There’s nothing quite as frustrating as trying to read a diary and missing out on key elements regarding the author’s life.”
“How much do you want for it?” Jeromy asked.
Adelaide wrinkled her nose. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”
“Who could pass up a book that’s old, dilapidated, and probably missing pages?” Jeromy countered.
Adelaide tilted her head, wondering what Jeromy would do if she quoted an outlandish price, but before she could do exactly that, William Osborne came barreling across the store, his color high and temper in his eyes.
“Do not say you’re already trying to beat out the rest of us of a book we may want to acquire for one of our clients, are you?” William demanded as he reached the table, Clement Robards by his side.
Jeromy smiled even as he shrugged. “All’s fair in love and book acquiring, gentlemen, as you very well know.” He turned an expectant eye on Adelaide. “Do you have a set price in mind?”
“I was thinking fifty,” she said, mostly because she was curious to see what would happen after asking such an exorbitant price for a diary she’d paid less than a dollar for.
“Done,” Jeromy didn’t hesitate to say.
“I’ll give you sixty,” William said.
“Seventy-five,” Clement countered.
“Eighty-five,” Jeromy offered next.
“One hundred,” William said before he sent Adelaide an unexpected wink. “I’ll also offer to keep an eye out for treasures for you the next time I’m in Europe without charging you my usual agenting fee.”
“That’s a low blow,” Jeromy grumbled. “You know Clement and I don’t have plans to travel internationally until late spring.”
William smiled. “As you said, all’s fair in—”
Before he could finish the sentence, a loud ruckus sounded from the back room, and a few seconds later, five men dressed in black, and with their faces covered, rushed into the room, pistols at the ready.
“Hands in the air!” a burly man shouted.
Adelaide’s hands, along with the book agents’, shot intothe air, whereas Lottie dropped to the floor and disappeared from sight.
