He nodded, thanked her uncle for his hospitality too, and departed with a sense of contentment expanding his chest.
Mooning over Mr. Gibbs was a terrible mistake.
Ada told herself so repeatedly in the days that followed. She had to stop and yet there was no avoiding the thoughts she kept having. Not when his large body had dwarfed the interior of this very room where she now worked. He’d sat on that exact stool, placed his teacup right there, touched the tin of biscuits she’d eaten from ever since parting ways with him last.
She swept her brow with her hand and told herself to focus. He was a duke – possibly a poor one – but a duke nonetheless, and she was what exactly? A normal, everyday nobody without even the paltriest dowry to help her get settled.
If that was what she wished to do, which it wasn’t.
Here with Uncle James she could have some degree of freedom.
Ha! The sort that involved hiding from the world and keeping her work a secret. What sort of freedom was that?
The sort that saved her from living under a husband’s thumb as her sister, Dorothy, was forced to do. She had been an outspoken woman who’d lost her voice the moment she and her husband said, “I do.”
Ada shook her head. She’d rather live in the back room of Between the Pages for the remainder of her days than suffer such a terrible fate. Although she imagined life with Mr. Gibbs might be different. He did seem like the sort of man who would listen to her opinions rather than always subject her to his own.
Ugh!
If only she could stop thinking about him.
She shook her head and finished the lettering on the books she’d been completing. Uncle James would be dropping them off to a Mayfair address later today. It pleased Ada to see how well his shop was doing and made a mental note to thank Emily once again for constantly singing its praises in her column.
But whatever pleasure she felt was reduced to self-criticism later when Uncle James returned with the books he’d gone to drop off.
“There’s a mistake with the binding,” he told her, setting the books on the table.
Ada stared at the deep red shade of leather adorned with gold leaf. “What?”
“Mr. Wilkes has demanded we re-do both volumes at our own expense.”
“I’m so sorry, Uncle James. I’ve no idea what happened. “
Not entirely true. Her head had been in the clouds since the day Mr. Gibbs walked into the shop. Or maybe she hadn’t recovered from the blow to her head yet. Either way, meeting him - thinking of him - was bad for business. If she weren’t careful, she’d ruin the shop’s reputation. One mishap might be excusable with a loyal client, but if it happened again, word would undoubtedly start to spread. Customers would stop coming and Uncle James’s income would suffer.
She could not allow that to happen after all he had done for her.
“You needn’t look so torn up, Ada.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Mistakes happen.”
“I’ll fix it,” she whispered. “I promise.”
“And I’m sure Mr. Wilkes will be thrilled with the result.”
“Let’s hope so.” Ada stared at the lettering. The books were The History of British India, volumes one, two, and three, but she’d printed Rob Roy across the covers.
“Imbecile,” she muttered as soon as Uncle James had gone back to the shop. Honestly, she could kick herself over the wasted time and money she’d caused.
Well, best get on with correcting her error. She grabbed a sharp knife and set to work, spending the rest of the day and much of the next one removing the leather binding she’d initially created and replacing it with a new one. This time, she took extra care to make sure the title on the cover matched the book itself before handing it over to her uncle for delivery.
“The duke is back,” Uncle James informed her the following day when he came to find her. With no current work to complete, she’d decided to give the apartment a thorough cleaning and was in the middle of wiping the skirting. “He’s asking to see you, so I thought you might take a break and come down?”
Ada pushed back onto her haunches and glanced at her uncle. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Uncle James scratched his head. “I thought you enjoyed his company.”
There was no denying the dismay in his voice.
“And I do. Very much so.” Too much, she’d concluded. She stood and dropped the cloth she’d been using into a pail filled with water and soap suds. “But look what his coming here has led to. As lovely as his visits have been, he’s proven to be a distraction. I think he’s the reason I messed up the Wilkes order.”
