“Nonsense,” said Emily. “It’s just a few things I don’t use myself. Better it goes to a dear friend than to someone I don’t know, as will happen if I let my maid dispose of the items.”
Harriet sighed. “Very well then. Thank you, Emily. You’re ever so kind.”
Emily blushed slightly but waved her hand as though to dispel the effect Harriet’s gratitude had upon her. She drew her and Ada into a simultaneous hug. “I’ll miss you both until we see each other next.”
“We’ll miss you too,” Ada assured her.
She and Harriet departed with Lucy in tow and exited onto Maypole Street. The smoke from newly lit fireplaces permeated the early evening air. Up ahead, coal was being shoveled into a chute.
“I’ll see you next month,” Harriet said when they parted ways at the next intersection.
“Looking forward to it,” Ada said. She turned left while Harriet and Lucy headed toward the river, crossing the street behind a horse and cart.
The pavement Ada walked was freshly washed with the runoff water trickling along beside her. Lanterns would be lit in another hour or so. For now, the light from the sinking sun cast a wondrously hazy glow across the City.
She rounded a few more corners and was almost back at the bookshop when she spotted a man striding toward her from the opposite end of the street. Her heart seemed to recognize him before her eyes did, slamming so hard against her breast, it felt like she’d been hit by a shovel.
She halted for a brief second - just long enough to confirm that it was indeed him. The duke was back and her stomach had chosen this inopportune time to have a small seizure. Or at least that was how it felt.
He spotted her in the next instant and sent her the sort of dazzling smile that ought to be illegal. It certainly had the power to scatter all logical thought and weaken her knees, which was rather a frightening thing to consider. What if this was the general effect he had on everyone? Parts of London would come to a standstill, filled by mesmerized people all leaning up against buildings for support.
“Miss Quinn.” He greeted her as though she were the sort of woman for whom an encounter with a duke was a normal occurrence. “I was just coming to see you.”
“Ah…um…er…Your Grace?” She pushed one foot behind her and bent the front knee in an awkward attempt at a curtsey.
“I thought we agreed there’d be none of that.” He dipped his eyebrows as though to show how serious he was, but the flicker of humor in his eyes betrayed him.
Ada sent him a hesitant smile. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this sort of thing.”
“And what sort of thing might that be?”
“Socializing with someone as…” She swept her hand up and down as though painting him with an invisible brush.
His right eyebrow rose while the left side of his mouth drew upward to form a crooked grin. “Charming? Handsome? Likeable? Possibly all the above?”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his wry sense of humor. If he’d meant to put her at ease, it had the desired effect. She relaxed and approached, allowing her shoulder to playfully push against his as she turned for the bookshop door.
“Conceited does come to mind,” she teased and promptly sent him a nervous look over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was perhaps a bit rude. I didn’t mean to offend, I—”
“Stop.” His grin had warmed his eyes, and he was watching her with the same sort of curious expression he’d worn while helping her when they’d first met. “I’m not some fragile glass ornament in danger of breaking if things get a little bit rowdy. On the contrary, I enjoy our repartee and would be devastated if you began tiptoeing around me just because of a silly title.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” Ada said after a brief pause. She took a deep breath and expelled it. “I enjoy our repartee too. It’s surprisingly…”
“Easy,” he murmured when she failed to come up with the right word.
“Yes,” she agreed, a little surprised by how true this was.
She’d always struggled with friendships, finding it difficult to approach people. It had taken forever for her to pluck up the courage to attend the book club meeting the first time she’d gone. Uncle James had encouraged her to participate so she could meet other women her own age. She’d spent two hours just listening to everyone else. It wasn’t until the meeting was over and she’d been about to leave that Emily stopped her to inquire about her reason for coming.
The next meeting had been easier and little by little she’d opened up.
In some ways, her friendship with Westcliffe was similar. He’d taken the lead by engaging her in conversation and encouraging her to participate. She was grateful to him for this. He was a wonderful man who wasn’t entirely wrong about the adjectives he’d used to describe himself. But he could never be more than a friend.
Odd, how that thought sent a pang of regret through her heart.
She shook off the feeling and pushed open the shop door. The bell chimed and the wonderfully familiar scent of paper wrapped itself around her. Mr. Gibbs followed her inside. Perhaps she should start calling him Westcliffe? She’d have to ask him how he preferred she address him. Mr. Gibbs was how she thought of him, but it wasn’t the right title for him anymore.
A customer stood at the counter – an older gentleman in the process of placing a new order with Uncle James. He glanced at Ada, whom he quickly dismissed, and then at Mr. Gibbs.
