Chapter 18 #2
It was as he was passing Tomley Street that he saw the sign stating that Lolly’s Bookshop was this way.
He decided that if Tilly was in the area, it could be to visit that bookshop.
Ambrose cut down Lacky Lane, walking past an array of unusual little shops.
Lolly’s was at the end, narrow and several stories high.
It surprised him he’d not been here before—or that one of his sisters hadn’t told him about it.
He opened the door, and a small bell chimed as he entered. The scent of old books and something else hung in the air.
“Good day to you, sir.”
Searching the rows of books for the owner of the voice, he found her behind a long counter.
The woman wasn’t young, about his mother’s age, perhaps, but that was where the similarities stopped.
This woman was tall with startling red hair that he didn’t think was natural, but Ambrose had no idea how or what would have given it that color.
She was dressed in magenta that clashed horribly with her hair and made her look like some kind of exotic parrot.
“My name is Mrs. Lolly, and this is my bookshop.”
“Good day to you,” another voice called.
He found a man behind a large pile of books. “I am Mr. Lolly.”
“You missed your calling, surely?” Ambrose found himself saying.
“Alas, we are no good at creating delicious confectionary. However, we do excel at purchasing just the right books,” the man said.
Unlike his wife, he wore brown, and his grey hair was cut short.
“How may we be of assistance to you, sir?” Mrs. Lolly asked.
“I am seeking anything you have on Freemasons and Societas Rosicruciana.”
“Well now, you are the second person today to ask me that. Upstairs, sir, you will find information on the second shelf to your right if there is anything on the matter,” Mrs. Lolly said.
Someone else had come in here, asking after those things. It had to be Tilly.
“Thank you.”
He took the stairs up and arrived in a smaller room crammed with books.
A table was at the end under a window, and seated at it was Tilly.
A shaft of dull light was settled around her, and he felt it again, that need he always experienced when he was close to this woman.
It really had to stop and yet hadn’t and in fact was growing.
“Did you follow me?”
“I was having my eyes tested. How was I supposed to follow you?” Ambrose protested. “Further to that is why would I?”
She harrumphed.
“You sound seventy when you make that noise.”
“My fondest wish,” she muttered, looking back down at the book she was reading, clearly dismissing him.
“You should not be out in London without your maid, Tilly, and definitely not up here alone.”
She waved his words away with a delicate flick of a gloved hand, still reading.
“It is not right,” he snapped, annoyed at her dismissive gesture.
“And I am no concern of yours, and I had plans to bring my maid—not that it is any concern of yours—however she is unwell.”
“Your parents should watch you more carefully,” he muttered.
“My parents are good people, but do not feel the need to bind me tight with society’s rules and expectations.” She was still looking at the book as she spoke.
“Did you show anyone the book?”
She nodded. “The man I took it to was no help at all. The book is now back in the room below the stairs.” She shot him a hard look before she spoke again.
“I made Margaret and Barnaby go with me to put it there, and Ruby stayed at the door, waiting for us. But I felt it best to return it so no one came looking for it.”
Which in no way mollified him, but as she was here and unharmed, he added nothing further.
“Mr. Redfern has heard of the Trinitarian Christian Master Masons because he is a Freemason. I’m surprised you didn’t see the framed words on the wall, Tilly, and realize this.” He loved annoying this woman far too much.
“Well, usually I’m too busy conversing with him and not being rude by inspecting his walls.” She was looking at him now. “What else did you learn?”
“Mr. Redfern told me the society focuses on teachings like the inner mysteries of nature and science and combining those with Christian theology with Hermeticism.”
“I am reading about that, actually, in this book,” she said, pointing to it.
He moved closer to look over her shoulder. Tilly’s subtle scent settled in his nostrils.
“Mr. Redfern also believes there have been some wrongdoings carried out by some of those who belong to the Societas Rosicruciana. Sacrifices and rituals,” Ambrose said.
He looked down, studying the few wisps of hair that escaped her bonnet, and then his gaze dropped further to the gentle swell of her breasts beneath her long peacock-feather-blue coat, which was unbuttoned. The bonnet matched, and her gloves were stacked neatly beside her on the table.
Sweet, he thought, and those lips looked kissable.
“Oh, now that’s interesting,” she said, waving him back so she could rise.
He obliged by taking two steps and then held out a hand to help her. She ignored him, like he’d known she would. Tilly was fiercely independent.
She removed her glasses and turned to place them beside her gloves before looking at him once more.
“It was interesting, yes, but still doesn’t lead us in any direction, Tilly. We have no idea who belongs to the order and what their purpose is or was. Also, what did Alex talk to Ruby about?”
Her face had been open and honest, excited to talk with him about what they were investigating, but now it closed, her expression shuttered, eyes lowered.
“Tilly, what did Alex say?”
“He told Ruby that he believed Fern had died, and then they talked about what she wanted Ruby to know. That she was all right, and that Fern needed her to be happy.”
“That had to be hard to listen to,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Of course.”
“Then why do you look like a kicked puppy?”
She blinked at his words. “I beg your pardon?”
“Alex said he had a few people that were coming through. Was one of those for you?” Ambrose persisted.
“No. Now excuse me. I am researching.”
He grabbed her wrist as she turned and held her facing him. “What aren’t you telling me?” Was that fear or worry in her eyes now? He leaned closer, studying her.
“Nothing,” she whispered as his eyes settled on the soft pout of her lips.
Yes, he thought. Again. Sliding his hand up her arm, he settled it on her shoulder and closed the distance. Nothing in that moment could have stopped him from kissing her once more. Ambrose needed it like he needed air to breathe.
God, she was luscious. He wanted to devour her. Instead, he kissed her softly, coaxing a response. Ambrose wasn’t sure how long they stood there kissing, but he knew he wanted more. Needed to keep the weight of her small hand on his chest, fingers curling into his jacket.
“Tilly.” He moved his lips down the pale column of her neck, kissing the soft, sweet-smelling skin.
She tilted her head, giving him better access. “More,” she whispered as his hand slid inside her coat.
Ambrose stroked her back through the material of her dress, tracing the contour of her body downward until he reached the rise of her buttocks.
He then moved his hand back up and over her ribs.
Splaying his fingers, he felt the swell of a breast and himself harden.
More, he thought, echoing her. He needed so much more from her.
“Yes,” she hissed as he stroked the edge of her swell.
Ambrose moved his mouth back to her lips as he trailed his fingers over the lush curve and then cupped her breast, learning the weight and feel of her. She arched into his touch, and he searched for an opening down the front of her dress, desperate now to feel her bare flesh in his hand.
He wasn’t sure he would have stopped until he had her naked and lying on the desk before him had the sound of feet on the stairs not intruded.
Stepping back, he released Tilly. She dropped back into the chair, and he walked away, picking up the nearest book.
He stared unseeing at the pages, harder than he could ever remember being, until the person arrived.
Ambrose slowed his breathing and willed his body to calm, then gnashed his teeth as he saw who had arrived.