Anthony dipped his head, chin to chest, and pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Unfortunately, he feared his shoulders might be shaking too much to hide his mirth. She truly was the most adorable creature he’d ever encountered.
“Ready?” he asked once she’d managed to wrap herself in a fringed length of cotton and had hidden most of her lovely blonde hair beneath a straw bonnet with a brim so large he could no longer see her eyes.
“Quite so.”
He sent her a smile and went to collect the picnic basket. Given the weight of the blasted thing, it probably would have been wise to send it ahead by carriage. Anthony tightened his grip on the handle and did his best to simultaneously open the shop door, holding it wide so Miss Quinn could exit.
They set off arm in arm, with Anthony wondering how best to broach the subject that pressed most firmly upon his mind. Eventually, he gave up trying to find a delicate way to ease into it, choosing instead to be direct.
“Will you please put me out of my misery and tell me why you began avoiding me?” He adjusted his hold on the basket. It was proving a cumbersome hindrance to a smooth pace.
She was quiet a moment before confessing, “I worried you might be bad for business.”
He choked. “I beg your pardon?”
“It was wrong to push you away without explanation,” she added. “Truth is, I’ve enjoyed your company tremendously, which is something rather unique for me since I do not make friends easily.”
“Go on,” he encouraged when she fell silent for a long while. They crossed the street and turned a corner, bringing the park entrance into view. The iron gate stood open, inviting Londoners in.
“Uncle James began having some health problems a few years ago,” Miss Quinn began. “His joints stiffen and hurt, so I’ve been helping him more than what would be deemed proper.”
“You’re referring to the book binding?”
She stumbled a little but he kept her upright. Her gaze rose to his, allowing him to see her wide-eyed expression. “How long have you known?”
He drew her closer to his side. “Since I placed the order for Miss Austen’s books.”
“Please don’t tell anyone. It’s bad enough that I’m living above the bookshop. If it becomes known that I’m binding books, it could bring scandal upon the shop’s name.”
“I think that’s ridiculous when you’re obviously very skilled.” He eyed her. “Especially since I’ve heard of other women being engaged in such trade.”
“Married women, Mr. Gibbs. Or widowed ones.” She hardened her expression. “It’s not considered appropriate for unmarried women to engage in such things.”
“Of course not,” Anthony told her dryly. “They might find forbidden knowledge between the pages of all these books and learn more than their brains can safely process. Or worse, have their souls corrupted.”
“You jest, but it is indeed a valid concern.” She directed her gaze toward the park entrance as they approached it, effectively hiding her eyes and most of her face from his view. “The book shop is Uncle James’s bread and butter. I’ll not put it at risk.”
“And you shouldn’t, but I’m still not sure how your acquaintance with me could possibly do so.”
She sighed. “I hope you won’t put too much stock in what I’m about to reveal, but the fact is I messed up an order last week. It was horribly embarrassing. I cannot even imagine how awful it must have been for Uncle James to take the blame. Fortunately the customer was a loyal one who was willing to ignore the mishap as long as we fixed the error at our own cost.”
“I see.” Strike that. Anthony wasn’t sure he saw the logic in any of this at all. “What was the mistake?”
“I labeled The History of British India by James Mills, Rob Roy instead.”
“Huh…” Realization struck and he drew her to a halt beneath the park gate, maneuvering them to one side so they didn’t block the path. “You were distracted.”
“I was.”
“By me.”
The truth and what it implied hovered between them like a fat albatross trying to find enough space on which to land. Despite her large bonnet, he saw her scrunch the tip of her nose. Adorable. It was impossible for him to keep from smiling. How could he when she’d just confessed he’d been on her mind a lot more than what he would have been if she thought of him as only a friend?
His smile broadened. “If it helps, I’ve thought of you too. At great length. Day and night.”
She shook her head just enough to convey that this did not help her in the least. “What am I supposed to do with that information?”
He stared at her. “I’m not entirely sure.”
