hope you win that wager as much as I hope I am indeed wrong.” Adrian pulled open the door and glanced back at the valet. “Pity, I am rarely, if ever, wrong.”
It was a busy afternoon at Fenwick and Sons, Booksellers. Evelyn closed the shop door behind her and savored the warmth for a moment. She was glad to see that patronage had increased. She’d always been fond of the establishment, even though now she preferred to patronize Hatchard’s. It had been more than two years since she had crossed the threshold here.
This morning she had sent Celeste to deliver a message for Max. Her friend had returned saying he would have new instructions for her this afternoon in the usual manner. The usual manner meant Fenwick and Sons. It struck her as rather silly. Couldn’t he have simply given Celeste the information to pass on to Evelyn? Although perhaps he wasn’t sure what she should do now and was trying to determine her next step.
She glanced around the room. The place looked the same, as it had no doubt looked for the numerous decades of its existence. She suspected the only significant change through the years would be the names and number of Fenwick sons who chose to become part of Fenwick and Sons. Shelves lined every wall, filled to overflowing in a haphazard manner, which made it nearly impossible for a customer to find what she wanted without assistance from one of the sons. Evelyn had often wondered if that might be deliberate so as to justify the sheer number of sons employed.
She approached the front desk and noticed that there had indeed been a change. The Ladies’ Reading Room, a mirror image of the main room albeit somewhat smaller and off to one side, now served refreshments. Apparently afternoon tea was most popular. Evelyn paused for a moment. Very nearly every table was occupied by two to four ladies, all chatting and obviously enjoying themselves. The oddest pang shot through her. She hadn’t had tea with friends in years. Indeed, aside from Celeste and Adrian’s sisters, she didn’t have any friends to speak of.
When she’d worked for the department, she had played the role of Miss Evelyn Turner, which wasn’t a role at all but precisely who she was. It was assumed in society that she was an heiress as well. She’d never had to don a disguise, as Celeste often had, or pretend to be someone she wasn’t. No one ever imagined that the life of the orphaned daughter of a viscount was funded by a clandestine government department or that she was engaged in uncovering information and ferreting out secrets. While she would, on occasion, run into someone she’d been to school with, living a double life left no time to cultivate friendships. Nor did it seem especially wise. Now, looking at the friends sharing tea and gossip in the reading room, it seemed a dreadful pity. Perhaps, when this was at an end ...
She approached the counter and smiled at the clerk.
“Good day,” he said. “How may I—”
“I shall handle this, James.” Thomas Fenwick, one of the younger sons, stepped up beside the clerk. “Miss Turner is an old and valued customer.”
“Of course, sir.” James smiled at her. “Good day, miss.” He nodded and left her in the capable hands of this particular Mr. Fenwick.
“Good day, Miss Turner,” Mr. Fenwick said with a smile. “It’s been quite some time. We have missed you.”
“I can’t imagine why.” She glanced around the shop. “You appear to be far too busy to notice the absence of one customer.”
“Ah, but none can compare with you.” A twinkle shone in his eyes. Thomas Fenwick had always been a bit of a flirt.
She laughed. “And you are as charming as ever, Mr. Fenwick.”
He leaned over the counter and lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “I read a great deal. It’s remarkable what one can learn if one is reading the right, or perhaps the wrong, books.”
“Novels then? Romance and adventure?”
“Yes, indeed.” He nodded. “I
It was a busy afternoon at Fenwick and Sons, Booksellers. Evelyn closed the shop door behind her and savored the warmth for a moment. She was glad to see that patronage had increased. She’d always been fond of the establishment, even though now she preferred to patronize Hatchard’s. It had been more than two years since she had crossed the threshold here.
This morning she had sent Celeste to deliver a message for Max. Her friend had returned saying he would have new instructions for her this afternoon in the usual manner. The usual manner meant Fenwick and Sons. It struck her as rather silly. Couldn’t he have simply given Celeste the information to pass on to Evelyn? Although perhaps he wasn’t sure what she should do now and was trying to determine her next step.
She glanced around the room. The place looked the same, as it had no doubt looked for the numerous decades of its existence. She suspected the only significant change through the years would be the names and number of Fenwick sons who chose to become part of Fenwick and Sons. Shelves lined every wall, filled to overflowing in a haphazard manner, which made it nearly impossible for a customer to find what she wanted without assistance from one of the sons. Evelyn had often wondered if that might be deliberate so as to justify the sheer number of sons employed.
She approached the front desk and noticed that there had indeed been a change. The Ladies’ Reading Room, a mirror image of the main room albeit somewhat smaller and off to one side, now served refreshments. Apparently afternoon tea was most popular. Evelyn paused for a moment. Very nearly every table was occupied by two to four ladies, all chatting and obviously enjoying themselves. The oddest pang shot through her. She hadn’t had tea with friends in years. Indeed, aside from Celeste and Adrian’s sisters, she didn’t have any friends to speak of.
When she’d worked for the department, she had played the role of Miss Evelyn Turner, which wasn’t a role at all but precisely who she was. It was assumed in society that she was an heiress as well. She’d never had to don a disguise, as Celeste often had, or pretend to be someone she wasn’t. No one ever imagined that the life of the orphaned daughter of a viscount was funded by a clandestine government department or that she was engaged in uncovering information and ferreting out secrets. While she would, on occasion, run into someone she’d been to school with, living a double life left no time to cultivate friendships. Nor did it seem especially wise. Now, looking at the friends sharing tea and gossip in the reading room, it seemed a dreadful pity. Perhaps, when this was at an end ...
She approached the counter and smiled at the clerk.
“Good day,” he said. “How may I—”
“I shall handle this, James.” Thomas Fenwick, one of the younger sons, stepped up beside the clerk. “Miss Turner is an old and valued customer.”
“Of course, sir.” James smiled at her. “Good day, miss.” He nodded and left her in the capable hands of this particular Mr. Fenwick.
“Good day, Miss Turner,” Mr. Fenwick said with a smile. “It’s been quite some time. We have missed you.”
“I can’t imagine why.” She glanced around the shop. “You appear to be far too busy to notice the absence of one customer.”
“Ah, but none can compare with you.” A twinkle shone in his eyes. Thomas Fenwick had always been a bit of a flirt.
She laughed. “And you are as charming as ever, Mr. Fenwick.”
He leaned over the counter and lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “I read a great deal. It’s remarkable what one can learn if one is reading the right, or perhaps the wrong, books.”
“Novels then? Romance and adventure?”
“Yes, indeed.” He nodded. “I
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