“Ada…”
“It’s probably best if you give Mr. Gibbs my regrets.”
Uncle James stared at her. “Are you certain, Ada?”
“Quite.” What use was there in spending more time with him anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d suddenly choose to think, ‘Ah yes, that woman who lives above a book shop would make me an excellent duchess. I must propose at once.’
She waited for Uncle James to leave before dropping back onto her knees with a huff. If she wrung out her cloth and continued cleaning with increased aggression, it was only because she was frustrated by all the dust that had gathered. Truly, it was a miracle they didn’t continuously sneeze, she decided.
“He returned this,” Uncle James said that afternoon when they met for tea in the back room as usual. He set her copy of Pride and Prejudice on her work table.
Ada stared at the two volumes comprising the novel. “What did he think of it?”
“I can’t say.” Uncle James snatched a chocolate biscuit from the tin she offered and took a bite. “He refused to tell me.”
“What do you mean he refused?”
“He said you’d have to ask him yourself if you wanted to know.”
“But maybe you wanted to know.”
Uncle James glanced at the ceiling. “He’s not daft, Ada.”
“I never suggested he was,” she muttered while sending her favorite novel a disgruntled frown. “What else did he say?”
“Just that he’s got some new material for you to look at. I believe that’s why he came – to ask your opinion and to hand the book back to you.”
She bit into the biscuit she’d selected and chewed on it before saying, “He read it quickly. That’s surely a positive sign.”
Uncle James sighed. “Honestly, you’ll have to ask him yourself if you truly want to know.”
She pressed her lips together. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Suit yourself, Ada.”
“You’re not going to try and change my mind?” Ada asked, eyeing him with suspicion.
“Would it work?”
“Probably not.”
“Didn’t think so.” He ate the rest of his biscuit and washed it down with a large gulp of tea. “You’ve always been rather bull-headed. Even with the binding. Wouldn’t let me talk you out of giving it a go. But I must confess I’m sorry to see you push Mr. Gibbs away. He’s a good man and while he might not be in a position to think of you as a possible match, he could be a wonderful life-long friend.”
Uncle James wasn’t wrong, but unfortunately the risk he posed to her heart outweighed whatever benefit she might find in continuing their acquaintance. “I’m sorry, but I’ve made my decision.”
“Well then, you ought to be pleased to know that the Britannica order was placed today.”
“Emily stopped by?” She’d been looking forward to her visit. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“She arrived while Mr. Gibbs was here. I could hardly show her up while turning a duke away, could I?”
“I suppose not,” Ada muttered.
“The good news is that her order will give you a lot of binding to do. Twenty volumes worth, to be exact.”
“I look forward to it,” Ada lied. For the first time ever, book binding held no appeal. She wasn’t excited about it. If anything, she had the most ridiculous urge to go back to bed and stay there for the foreseeable future. Her heart ached and she started to worry she might be coming down with a cold or, heaven help her, influenza.
But when a week went by with no worsening symptoms, she realized her new despondency might be caused by something else. Curiously, she felt slightly better whenever her uncle informed her that Mr. Gibbs had once again come to call upon her. He did so daily while she continued to make up excuses not to see him.
