“I am aware,” Matthew said.
The comment had the widow pausing a moment. “Oh. Of course you are,” she said. “So her reputation does not give you pause?”
Matthew furrowed his dark brows. “Contrary to what Society believes, I am not opposed to bluestockings,” he replied.
“Although I don’t think she’s necessarily opposed to blue bloods, she won’t be the least bit impressed that you’re an aristocrat.”
Matthew sucked in air between his teeth. “General dislike of peers, or…?”
“No.”
“Does sheknowI’m an earl?” he asked in dismay.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon audibly sighed. “No. I told her you were a gentleman with farms that had failed with this latest harvest.”
Matthew considered this bit of news. “Understood,” he replied, deciding it was far better to attract a woman with his other attributes than with the promise of a title. “I won’t introduce myself as the Earl of Wingfield,” he stated.
“Capital. She’ll come ’round when it matters,” she murmured. “Well, then, let’s have you two meet at a bookshop, shall we? Say…”
“Henry Sotheran and Company in Little Tower Road,” Matthew stated. “It has a reading room in the back and is rarely busy in the early evenings.”
“And only a bit over a mile from her place of employment,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon stated in awe. “Sounds capital. For the time being, count on meeting her there tomorrow evening. If she is unable to do so, I shall send word with one of my caddies.”
“You mean Freddy?” he said in a tease, remembering the street urchin who had Chessings vexed because he had the audacity to deliver a note to the front door of Wingfield House.
She lifted a shoulder. “Freddy is not the only one,” she replied. “Now, I’ve another appointment due any moment. Titan will see you out.”
Matthew gave a start. “What happens if… if this doesn’t work? If she and I aren’t compatible?”
He knew she blinked behind the netting, as if his words couldn’t be believed. “But it will,” she argued. “When you give it a chance. Remember, you two share a love of books. That’s far more than most couples can claim.”
Feeling as if he had been scolded by a schoolteacher, Matthew took his leave of her office, not surprised to discover Titan ready to accompany him down the stairs.
“You don’t seem pleased,” Titan murmured.
“I suppose I’m not used to being treated like a recalcitrant child,” he replied, chuckling softly.
“Every man who comes out of that office does so wondering what the hell they’ve gotten themselves into,” Titan stated. “But I assure you, very few are unsatisfied clients.”
Matthew nodded his understanding. “If this woman turns out to be who I think she is, I think I’ll be fine.” He rememberedthe five pound note in his waistcoat pocket. “Might you have coins for a bank note?” he asked. “I found it in a book of my mother’s, bless her,” he added.
Titan chuckled. “We’re a gaming hell. Of course, I have coins. What do you need?”
Pulling out the bank note, Matthew held it out.
“Wait here.” He hurried off and returned a moment later with a black velvet purse, heavy with coin. “You could count it, but I assure you there are five pounds worth of coins in there,” Titan claimed.
Matthew hefted the purse with appreciation. “Thank you,” he said. He shook hands with the escort manager before he made his way to his town coach, glad to have money for Cummings.
And perhaps for some more books.
Chapter Twelve
Two Strangers, One Bookshop
Henry Sotheran & Co., Little Tower Street, London
Darkness had alreadydescended over London when Catherine took her leave of the Temple of the Muses, rushed to her town coach, and gave the driver instructions to take her to Little Tower Street.
