“I do not have a look of longing,” she muttered, grateful when the footman tugged open the carriage doors and effectively interrupted her sister’s response.
Phoebe allowed him to hand her down with a murmur of thanks and paused to look at the corner establishment. She shielded her eyes against the sun’s glaring brightness. Her sister came to a stop beside her and followed her gaze. From the corner of her eye, she detected the skepticism stamped on her face. “This is the shop?”
“This is the shop.” She remained rooted to the spot while eying the sign that hung haphazardly, swaying in the spring breeze.
“It hardly seems er…” Justina scratched her brow. “The fashionable shop to contain those travel items you so love.” The shop in question was, in fact, one she’d never before visited. After Edmund’s inadvertent challenge of her dreams and love of exploration, she’d resolved to look beyond the safe, expected books offered at the more fashionable shops.
She eyed the building with the same skepticism in her sister’s suddenly wary eyes. “I have it on good authority it is a reputable establishment with original artifacts and books.”
“On whose good authority?”
Phoebe pretended not to hear Justina’s question. She could hardly say her loyal maid had put inquiries to some other nobleman’s hopefully loyal servants and had been given this particular shop. “Come along, then,” she said with forced cheer and started toward the Unique Treasures and Artifacts Shop.
“Not at all a clever name for a shop,” her sister mumbled as she followed Phoebe into the dark and cluttered shop.
Phoebe skimmed the expansive space, with floor-length shelving of books and tables scattered about the room and brimming with unfamiliar objects; some of them shining and lethal in appearance. Her heart kicked up a beat with excitement.
“Perhaps it isn’t a gentleman, after all,” her sister said at her side. She glanced at Phoebe questioningly. “You have the same look of longing.” She groaned. “Never tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with your tiresome artifacts.”
Phoebe laughed and took her by the shoulders, then steered her off. “Go. Shop.”
“You’re trying to be rid of me.” Her sister slapped a hand to her chest in feigned hurt.
Phoebe winked. “Indeed, I am.”
“Very well,” Justina said on a prolonged sigh and then skipped off with the exuberance better reserved for a younger child.
Free of her oddly knowing younger sister, Phoebe returned her attention to the shop, and scanned her gaze over the collection of exotic creatures petrified. A black panther with a lethal gleam in his frozen, yellow eyes pulled at her. “Hullo?” she called out softly. She looked about for a shopkeeper and, at finding none, ventured deeper into the shop, drawn to the massive panther in the corner. Phoebe touched a tentative hand out and stroked his satiny smooth head. Regret tugged at her. This is not the adventure and exploration she craved. She didn’t long for a world where creatures were captured, killed, and forever memorialized as a token of one person’s dominance in a world different than the natural world they belonged to.
“Oh, hullo, there.”
Phoebe started and dropped her hand. She spun around. “Hello.” A bespectacled, tall, lean man with a shock of red hair stared back at her as though she were as rare as one of those exotic creatures on display in his establishment.
“Do you require assistance?” Though the faintly pleading way in which he studied her suggested a greater desire for a lady like her to remove herself from his shop. She took in the armful of books in his arms.
“Er…”
“Because I can help you,” he said with a touch of annoyance in his tone.
“Th—”
“But I am helping another patron at the moment.” With that, he spun on his heel and marched off.
Well. She supposed she should be offended by his surly unpleasantness. Her lips twitched
Phoebe allowed him to hand her down with a murmur of thanks and paused to look at the corner establishment. She shielded her eyes against the sun’s glaring brightness. Her sister came to a stop beside her and followed her gaze. From the corner of her eye, she detected the skepticism stamped on her face. “This is the shop?”
“This is the shop.” She remained rooted to the spot while eying the sign that hung haphazardly, swaying in the spring breeze.
“It hardly seems er…” Justina scratched her brow. “The fashionable shop to contain those travel items you so love.” The shop in question was, in fact, one she’d never before visited. After Edmund’s inadvertent challenge of her dreams and love of exploration, she’d resolved to look beyond the safe, expected books offered at the more fashionable shops.
She eyed the building with the same skepticism in her sister’s suddenly wary eyes. “I have it on good authority it is a reputable establishment with original artifacts and books.”
“On whose good authority?”
Phoebe pretended not to hear Justina’s question. She could hardly say her loyal maid had put inquiries to some other nobleman’s hopefully loyal servants and had been given this particular shop. “Come along, then,” she said with forced cheer and started toward the Unique Treasures and Artifacts Shop.
“Not at all a clever name for a shop,” her sister mumbled as she followed Phoebe into the dark and cluttered shop.
Phoebe skimmed the expansive space, with floor-length shelving of books and tables scattered about the room and brimming with unfamiliar objects; some of them shining and lethal in appearance. Her heart kicked up a beat with excitement.
“Perhaps it isn’t a gentleman, after all,” her sister said at her side. She glanced at Phoebe questioningly. “You have the same look of longing.” She groaned. “Never tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with your tiresome artifacts.”
Phoebe laughed and took her by the shoulders, then steered her off. “Go. Shop.”
“You’re trying to be rid of me.” Her sister slapped a hand to her chest in feigned hurt.
Phoebe winked. “Indeed, I am.”
“Very well,” Justina said on a prolonged sigh and then skipped off with the exuberance better reserved for a younger child.
Free of her oddly knowing younger sister, Phoebe returned her attention to the shop, and scanned her gaze over the collection of exotic creatures petrified. A black panther with a lethal gleam in his frozen, yellow eyes pulled at her. “Hullo?” she called out softly. She looked about for a shopkeeper and, at finding none, ventured deeper into the shop, drawn to the massive panther in the corner. Phoebe touched a tentative hand out and stroked his satiny smooth head. Regret tugged at her. This is not the adventure and exploration she craved. She didn’t long for a world where creatures were captured, killed, and forever memorialized as a token of one person’s dominance in a world different than the natural world they belonged to.
“Oh, hullo, there.”
Phoebe started and dropped her hand. She spun around. “Hello.” A bespectacled, tall, lean man with a shock of red hair stared back at her as though she were as rare as one of those exotic creatures on display in his establishment.
“Do you require assistance?” Though the faintly pleading way in which he studied her suggested a greater desire for a lady like her to remove herself from his shop. She took in the armful of books in his arms.
“Er…”
“Because I can help you,” he said with a touch of annoyance in his tone.
“Th—”
“But I am helping another patron at the moment.” With that, he spun on his heel and marched off.
Well. She supposed she should be offended by his surly unpleasantness. Her lips twitched
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