Page 70

Edwin squeezed Andrew’s hand. And Andrew squeezed his back.

After some time, Edwin let go and pointed over to the orchids.

“Do you want to see your favorite plant before we head out?” Edwin asked.

“I’d love to,” Andrew replied cheerily.

Hooking his hands behind his back, Edwin started over to them, blush still clinging to his cheeks.

***

Days later, Edwin was walking home, his body buzzing with exhilaration from the thrill of having practically run Thompson’s Photography Studio entirely by himself for the third time in a row. Andrew’s knee continued to bother him a little, though the man said he was starting to feel better, most likely because of Edwin’s help. And Edwin helping Andrew out at the studio had been helping him, too. Edwin had made a nice bit of extra money—enough to finally take Agnes to that restaurant they passed whenever they had to venture to the bakery for bread—and, even more impactfully, he had been interacting with so many clients without issue. No one—not even one person—had thought that there was anything unusual about him. Or, well, he couldn’t know that for sure, really, but if they had thought it, then they hadn’t said it, so whatever the thought might have been mustn’t have been more than a fleeting one, rather than a real concern about his person.

Edwin was finally feeling comfortable in his own skin. And not only in private, either—at home or behind the walls of Andrew’s business or in the confines of the conservatory—but in public, too.

Strolling through the streets of Albany, Edwin had his head held high, not even forcing it or faking it. He simply felt so self-possessed that it was coming naturally to him not to feel the need to hide his face beneath the brim of his hat or make himself smaller by curling his shoulders forward. For once, he was completely fine with people noticing him. In fact, he kind of wanted them to. Because he was a handsome enough fellow, wasn’t he? Andrew certainly seemed to think so.

When Edwin reached home, he burst inside.

“Agnes!” he called out. “I have a surprise for you!”

Agnes came to the front room to meet him, a robe loosely tied around her waist over her house dress. Edwin shook his head in mock chastisement and tsked.

“What’s the surprise, and why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

“I’m shaking my head because you clearly aren’t ready for my surprise, and therefore, it looks like I’ll be forced to wait an extra half hour before we can enjoy it.”

“Edwin, you’re behaving so strangely lately. Walking around with a skip in your step. Always speaking in riddles. Smiling incessantly.”

“It’s not incessant,” Edwin protested. “But you’re a little right about the riddles. I’m feeling a lot sillier nowadays.”

“Because you’re falling in love?” Agnes asked playfully, batting her eyelashes.

Edwin pursed his lips to try to contain his incessant smiling.

“Never mind that. I thought maybe I could take you to that restaurant we pass every week. Gallivan House.”

Agnes’s eyes blew wide. “Really?!”

“If you’d like.” He took out his pocket watch and clicked it open to check the time. “You’d better change fast, though. Because I’m hungry. And I will leave without you if you aren’t ready in thirty minutes.”

Agnes spun on her heel and hurried off without even replying. Chuckling to himself, Edwin headed upstairs behind her so that he could change his jacket. While the one he was wearing was nice enough, he felt like he ought to wear a brighter one. Something that better matched his happy mood.

After removing his boring brown jacket and throwing it over a chair, he found his favorite olive-colored one in his closet. Holding it up, Edwin ran his fingers over the fabric. It was a replica of his father’s favorite suit. Since Edwin hadn’t been able to bear the thought of altering that one, he’d fashioned this one for himself instead. And he always felt handsome in it.

He slipped the jacket on and then retrieved his pocket watch from his other one. When he moved to clip it to his waistcoat, he found a piece of paper in the pocket of his newly donned jacket. Furrowing his brow, he took it out. It was his unsent letter to Andrew. Edwin’s heart fluttered as his eyes ran over the text. He could only imagine what might have happened if he had actually sent it.

Behind him, Agnes knocked, rapping her knuckles on the door, which Edwin had previously left ajar. Stuffing the letter back in his inner suit pocket and promising himself that he’d rip it up later, Edwin turned to face her. Agnes was wearing one of her nicest dresses. Fashioned from a sage-colored fabric, it had a simple silhouette, white lace trim, and a low, scooping neckline. She had her hair pulled back, styled in a loose braid, with several shorter pieces framing her face. Edwin smiled the moment he locked eyes with her.

“You look wonderful, Agnes,” he said warmly, finally affixing his pocket watch to his waistcoat.

“Is it fancy enough for the restaurant, you think?” she asked, smoothing her hands over her skirt.

“Undoubtedly.”

Agnes beamed at him.

They went downstairs together. After they put on their outerwear, they started walking to the restaurant, both of them too excited to be bothered by the cold very much. Edwin’s confidence held strong when he asked for a table, and then again when he ordered them each a glass of wine, his voice loud and clear and self-assured over the music—a couple of violinists playing in the far corner of the restaurant.