Ada picked up a pencil and tapped the end of it lightly against the counter. “That would be four books in total. Pride and Prejudice, which you simply must read first, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, and Mansfield Park. If I recall correctly, you mentioned your sister having a copy of Mansfield Park, so maybe you don’t need to purchase that one?”
“True.” He was silent a moment before remarking, “Nevertheless, I’d like to have my own copy.”
Anthony waited quietly while Miss Quinn made a note of the titles. A light pink hue colored her cheeks, and despite displaying some shyness, she seemed more comfortable with him today. He was glad. Nervousness had never been a concern of his, yet there was no denying the worry holding his heart in a vice as he’d set out to fetch his order. He’d been afraid, truth was, that the strong connection he’d felt upon meeting Miss Quinn had been imagined.
But no. His concerns had been completely unfounded. The moment he’d entered the shop and his gaze had met hers, he’d known he was in the right place. The sparkle in her lovely blue eyes and her welcoming smile were proof that she had looked forward to seeing him just as much as he’d looked forward to seeing her.
“That will come to four pounds for the Austen books. We’ll require a two-pound deposit, to be returned to you if we’re unable to procure the books. And then there’s Rob Roy. I’ll fetch it for you straight away.”
The total exceeded five pounds. More than what a skilled craftsman earned in a month. Enough to buy a cow. It was, without doubt, an enormous sum to spend on what most would consider an extravagant purchase. Especially for a man in his position.
Frivolous, Mama would say, but she wasn’t here and besides, these weren’t just books. They were research intended to help him make money.
Anthony watched Miss Quinn disappear into a back room. He wasn’t ready to finish his dealings with her just yet, so when she returned, he casually said, “I hope you don’t find this too intrusive, but I’m curious to know how you came to live here, above a bookshop.”
She set his order on the counter. “My uncle used the money he inherited from his parents to open the place some twenty years ago. Considering how much books sell for, one might imagine him to be very well off. But after setting income aside for new books, paying the rent and other expenses, his own salary is modest. So he sold his townhouse ten years ago and moved into the space above the shop. When Papa died, Uncle James took me in.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s all right. I could have refused to answer.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know, but there’s something about you, I…” She shrugged and shook her head. “Confiding in you felt natural.”
The warmth in his chest expanded. “I’m glad.”
She chuckled, ducking her head with a hint of shyness. “I used to have my sisters to talk to, but they’re older than I. Dorothy was already wed with Bethany just about to get married when our father died. She lives in Northumbria now and I… Heavens, why am I telling you all of this?”
He grinned. “Because I’m happy to hear what you have to say? My father died too a few years ago and Mama has since re-married. She and her new husband are currently traveling the world together.”
“Sounds like you miss her.”
“Yes. It’s my fault she’s gone. I pushed her away with my foolhardiness.” He winced, a little embarrassed by the unplanned confession. Choosing to move on quickly, he said, “But I do have two younger sisters, both on the cusp of making debuts.”
“How exciting.”
Anthony managed a tight smile. Thankfully, both were provided with handsome dowries which he’d had no access to. But other expenses would be required if they were to make the desirable matches one might expect from a duke’s sisters. There were, after all, reputations to uphold.
“I’m sure it is for them,” he said as he gave his attention to the books she’d brought from the back room. He picked one up and turned it over, admiring the gold imprints upon the cover and along the length of the spine. “This is exquisite. The craftsmanship is extraordinary and this…this little ornamental symbol right here. I’m guessing it’s a signature?”
“Yes…um…my uncle…” She waved her hand. “He’s always believed in adding a binder’s mark in order to–”
The shop door swung open behind him, and before Anthony had a chance to figure out what was occurring, Miss Quinn vanished behind a bookcase. Two older women entered and Miss Quinn’s uncle came to assist them.
They also commented on the lovely editions he’d come to collect, and to Anthony’s surprise, one of them said, “I did not think your rheumatism allowed you to keep on binding, Mr. Quinn. I’m relieved to see that’s not the case. Indeed, this is some of your finest work to date.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Quinn murmured. He sent a quick glance toward the bookcase his niece was still hiding behind and proceeded to help the two women find what they wanted.
A purchase was made along with an order, and the pair soon departed with a polite, “Good day.”
Anthony sent a quick look toward the bookcase. Leaning toward Mr. Quinn, he asked, his voice low, “How long has your niece been binding books for you?”
“I suppose it must be…” He stopped himself with a grin and tapped the side of his nose before retreating once more.
“Sorry,” said Miss Quinn as she stepped back into view. With a hesitant glance directed toward the door, she moved back into position behind the counter. “Let’s finish this order, shall we?”
“Have you ever considered letting customers know that you work here?” Anthony asked, leaning against the counter.
