Page 132 of The Siren of Sussex

It was all Evelyn could do not to gape at the man. She didn’t know what surprised her more, that he should know something about novels, about Indian writers, or about the education of women.

“We don’t have that book,” the clerk said.

“No doubt you can order it,” Captain Blunt replied, “if the lady wishes.”

“I do wish it,” Evelyn said swiftly. “Thank you, sir.”

The captain inclined his head to her. He was holding a brown clothbound book in his hand, waiting for her to finish her business so he could purchase it.

Evelyn chanced a glance at the gilt-embossed cover. Her eyes widened. Good lord. It was The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins.

Her gaze flicked to Captain Blunt’s face. Never had she seen a gentleman who looked less sentimental. And yet . . . he read novels.

“I will make inquiries about Mr. Khan’s book for you,” the clerk said. He pushed her stack of books back across the counter. “But I can’t accept these in return. You’ve already read them.”

“I have,” she said. “But—”

“This isn’t a circulating library, miss.”

Evelyn would have liked to argue, but not with a queue forming behind her. After leaving her direction for the clerk, she grudgingly collected her books, nodded a goodbye to Captain Blunt, and exited the shop.

Hansom cabs rolled by in the street, along with sporting gigs and carriages. Evelyn was walking briskly toward the omnibus stop when one of them stopped alongside her.

It was the Arundell carriage. Anne lowered the window. “Where are you going in such a rush?”

“Home to Russell Square,” Evelyn said.

“Get in. I’ll take you.”

A liveried footman hopped down from his perch to open the door.

Evelyn murmured a thank-you to him as he assisted her inside. She sank down on the seat across from Anne as the door closed behind her. “I’m obliged to you.”

“Not at all. I’m glad for the company.”

“You’re alone this morning?”

“For the moment. Mama is at a meeting with a representative of that boy medium from Birmingham. Such high drama! There will be a séance soon.”

“With the boy in attendance?”

“Of a certainty. Mama is beside herself—far too distracted to mind me. She said I might use the carriage to do a little shopping. I’ve had an entire hour to myself.” Anne arranged the skirts of her black silk dress as the carriage rolled back into traffic. “Did you just come from Hatchards?”

“I did. You’ll never guess who I ran into.” Evelyn described her encounter with Captain Blunt. “Do you suppose the man has hidden depths to him?” she asked when she’d finished.

“I suppose he might,” Anne said. “But no amount of novel reading can blot out the fact that he has a brood of illegitimate children living with him. One child I could forgive. Even two, possibly. But an entire houseful?”

“A haunted houseful, if one believes Stella’s description.”

“Not only hers. I’ve heard tales of his haunted estate from others, too.” Anne frowned. “No. Captain Blunt can’t be considered a viable suitor for any of us. Julia least of all. She needs a mild, gentle sort of man.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“Not yet. But I’m keeping my eyes and ears open.” Anne leaned forward to examine Evelyn’s books. “What did you buy?”

“These aren’t new purchases. I was trying to return them.”

“What’s wrong with them?”