It had occurred to him, after much mulling, that Miss Dell had been irritated with him because, all along, he’d not paid the proper respect to her interests. That had been a mistake. A very stupid mistake. Why had he been so arrogant as to dismiss her proclivities, and why had he been so very sure she would throw them over?
He’d been very highhanded!
Well, he would rectify it. He would purchase some valuable volume and lay it at the feet of her scholarly heart. It was not a typical purchase for him, and certainly now in his penury it would not seem logical. But what were shops for, but to pay accounts at one’s convenience? Though tradesmen of all sorts had been inconveniently demanding payment from Dalton, he doubted a bookshop would be as miserly as a butcher.
The clerk, who’d been attempting to convince him for the past hour that Mr. Lackington would not return that day, stared hopefully at him.
“My good fellow,” Giles said, “I need a book about comets, or stars, or the sky in general. An expensive one. Show me the way.”
The clerk’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “This way, my lord,” he said, “to the section on astronomy.”
Giles followed the fellow up a set of stairs and past rows and rows of mile-high shelves of books. The clerk turned a corner and pointed to a section. “Just here, my lord,” he said. “Might I help you select something?”
“No, quite all right,” Giles said. “I shall know what I seek when I see it.”
The clerk bowed and left him alone to contemplate his purchase.
“My God,” Giles said softly, “who wrote all these books?”
The stack rose in front of him, a veritable mountain of literature. Most of the books were bound in the usual way with black or brown leather. There was one slim volume though, that was a delicate cream shade with gold embossed print. It was on the highest shelf, as if put there so only the most determined treasure hunter might find it.
Giles rolled the ladder over, climbed up, and pulled it from the shelf. Jumping down to the floor he turned it over.An Examination of Geocentric Cosmology and a Defense of Aristotle’sTheorywritten by Reverend H. Bête.
He was delighted with it. It sounded wonderfully obscure, just the sort of thing that would strike Miss Dell as worthy. As well, while he’d not paid much attention to his schooling, one could hardly get through it without hearing the name Aristotle more than once. The old fellow had written no end of things, though who would wish to plow through them all…
Miss Dell, that was who. Certainly, this must be the book for Miss Dell. After all, one could hardly go wrong with Aristotle and the binding on the book was magnificent.
He tucked the volume under his arm and jogged past the endless shelves and down the stairs. Seeing his clerk, he held the volume in the air like a hard-won victory.
The clerk hurried over.
“I will want this delivered,” Giles said. “It is to go to Miss Dell, in Hanover Square. I believe Mr. Lackington will know the precise address. A note too, to say: in admiration of your scholarship, may this new information add to your already noteworthy amount of knowledge and enlighten you on a subject of interest.”
The clerk’s brows slowly drew together, like two caterpillars warily approaching one another.
“I will leave it unsigned and inform the lady of its sender myself.”
“Unsigned,” the clerk said softly.
Giles paused. “No, that will not do,” he said. “What if she decides to give the credit to Sir John?”
“Sir John?”
“Never mind him, he is useless,” Giles said.
“You wish to purchase thisbook, my lord? Withthatnote?” the clerk asked.
“Certainly,” Giles said, handing the book to the clerk. “If I wished for another, I would not have chosen this one. Can you not see how fine the binding is?”
“It is very fine, my lord,” the clerk said. In a much lower voice, as if he told a secret, he said, “This particular volume is four pounds. The value lies in the binding, whichisvery fine. Otherwise, it is a curiosity, you see.”
Giles did think it curious that a book could run four pounds. It seemed a ridiculous amount for paper and leather, but then itwasthe great Aristotle and itwasfor Miss Dell. No expense must be spared.
“Put it on account,” he said. “And see it is delivered first thing on the morrow. That is absolutely vital. You must have some stack of papers somewhere, in which you keep your customers’ addresses?”
The clerk nodded. “We know well enough where to find Lord Penderton’s house, he’s one of our best customers. If you are certain—”
“It is to be signed mysteriously,” Giles said. “Sign it simply with ‘G.’”
