“Good evening, sir,” he said, approaching the manager as he held out his right hand.
“And to you, sir. I am Mr. Allen. Is there something I can help you find?” He nodded to the one book Matthew held. “Something a bit lighter than that?”
Matthew glanced down to discover he held a copy ofHistorical Memoirs of My Own Timeby Nathaniel William Wraxall. “Uh, I’m not sure I’ll be buying this one. I take it the lady with whom you were speaking didn’t find what she was looking for?”
Mr. Allen rolled his eyes. “Actually, she did. A position, sir. She thinks she can reorganize our shelves to make it more efficient to find books,” he groused. “I rather doubt she’ll work here longer than two weeks.”
Matthew gave a start. “And why is that?”
“She intends to reorganize our upper floors by subject and then by authors’ last names,” he replied. “Claims she’s done it for a library of ten thousand volumes.”
Matthew blinked. “Well, that’s quite an accomplishment. If she were willing to travel, I would have her redo my library in Berkshire,” he said. “I expect it would be rather easy for her.”
Mr. Allen furrowed his brows. “Easy?” he repeated.
“Well, yes. As the daughter of the owner of Kingston Publishing, she’s probably rearranging libraries all the time,” he commented, rather enjoying the look of surprise on the manager’s face. Obviously the woman hadn’t used her father’sprofession as a bargaining chip, which he thought rather curious. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll continue my shopping.” He handed over the volume he held. “I’m not interested in this one.”
It was Mr. Allen’s turn to blink. “Of course, sir,” he said as he took the book.
Matthew headed for the stairs and made his way all the way to the top floor. His limited coins would buy four books as opposed to the single book he had been holding downstairs.
Four books that would keep him entertained for at least a fortnight.
Chapter Eight
Two Escorts, Five Informants
The following day, the Lyon’s Den
Much like allthose who worked at the Lyon’s Den, dunner Theseus was named after a character in Shakespeare’sMidsummer Night’s Dream. His usual position was to act as a doorman—a guard of sorts—for the front entrance of the establishment and to see to it debts were collected when necessary.
At the moment, a young boy was attempting to collect from him. He scoffed and then rolled his eyes at the street urchin who held out a dirty hand, palm up. “’Afore I give you a farthing, you ’ave to tell me what you know,” he said.
“There ain’t no ladies working at Dutton’s,” the boy stated.
Theseus blinked and was about to send the caddy off without payment when Titan was suddenly at his elbow.
“No women working at Dutton’s?” he repeated, obviously having overheard the boy’s comment.
“Not a one,” the caddy confirmed. He accepted the farthing Titan gave him and ran off.
“What’s this about?” Theseus asked, obviously confused by the exchange.
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon had me send out a number of caddies earlier this morning to search for female librarians,” Titan explained. Before he could elaborate, another urchin, this oneolder, rushed up. Breathless, he addressed Titan directly. “Just came from New Bond Street, sir.”
“And?” Titan prompted.
“Hookham’s Circulating Library does not employ anyone of the female persuasion.” The last word was pronounced as if the boy had recently learned it, probably from someone at Hookham’s.
Titan gave him a farthing. “Seems odd, given their clientele is primarily women,” he murmured.
The boy shrugged. “You want me to ask over at Noble’s?”
Shaking his head, Titan said, “I already sent Freddy there, but come back tomorrow in case I have something else for you.”
“Aye, guv’nor.”
Theseus and Titan watched the boy jog off in the direction of Green Park. “Are you expecting anyone else to report this morning?” Theseus asked.
