Chapter Thirty-Five
“Everything looks perfect,” Gwen enthused, glancing ’round Margaret’s bookshop one final time prior to the doors opening to allow customers to enter for the big event.
Light spilled in through skylights and large windows and glowed from spermaceti candles and crystal chandeliers over gleaming wood floors and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the same that comprised Margaret’s shop on any given day.
Now, however, festive pink streamers and paper lanterns hung from the high ceiling, while two large, banquet-style tables took center stage in the fashionable shop.
On one, beautiful, fragrant bouquets bracketed neat stacks of Georgina’s, or rather GT Arlington’s autographed booklets titled, A Desperate Design. On the other sat enticing tiered platters of small cakes frosted in pastel blue, cream, and pink, and scores of dripping, ice-cold glasses of lemonade.
Two large displays had also been erected, each featuring Georgina’s previously published works—all autographed. That had been Margaret’s brilliant idea.
Standing on either side of her, Margaret and Lady Harriet beamed like proud parents.
“I can’t believe we pulled everything together, and in such a short amount of time,” Margaret said. “The bookshop has never hosted such a grand event, and frankly, I would have had no notion where to begin without your guidance.”
“I must say, it was very kind of Mr. Devereux to supply the labor necessary to accomplish our undertaking. Showing up as he did last evening, several footmen in tow, to see the streamers and lanterns hung, the tables laid out and booklets uncrated, he quite impressed me.”
“Yes, very kind.” Gwen smiled to herself. Gideon had delivered the requested footmen and then refused to leave. As long as Gwen meant to stay and supervise, he’d said, he would remain, and may as well make himself useful.
The sight of him, shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal hair-dusted, thick forearms, while he climbed ladders, stretched his long, lean, body lengthwise to hang this decoration or that, and wrenched open crates, had quite captivated Gwen, leaving her tongue-tied and hard pressed to hide the fact from anyone who happened to look her way.
Gideon’s knowing looks said he had noted her flustered state, as well.
But then he always seemed aware of his dizzying effect on her senses.
From the start, he had caused her limbs to go watery, her heart to race, and her insides to simmer, with no effort beyond simply entering her vicinity.
She would have thought his effect would lessen over time as she became inured to him.
In fact, the exact opposite was true. It was as if he’d tapped a wellspring of passion from her inner most being that gave no sign of diminishing.
To Gwen’s right, Lady Amelia appeared on the top step of one of two spiral staircases, each on opposite sides of sides of the shop, which led to the second floor.
“It’s nearly time. Georgie and I see scores of ladies, and more than a few men, lined up already.
You’re a genius, Gwen.” She glided down the stairs, a jaunty grin on her beautiful face.
“Those foolish stakeholders have no notion with whom they are tangling.”
Georgina followed close on Amelia’s heels. “I still cannot fathom why they should wish to cause you trouble, considering that they must refund your money if your endeavor fails. It makes no sense. If they didn’t wish to sell you the publishing house, they could have simply declined your offer.”
Gwen wondered the very same thing. She had yet to come up with a viable answer.
Charlotte peeked over the railing of the staircase to Gwen’s left.
“Coming down,” she announced. “I do so love this section of your bookshop, Margaret. It always gives me a little thrill to know my enthusiasm for the books and pamphlets housed here led to my invitation to join the Ladies’ Literary Society of London. ”
Harriet had once explained to Gwen how perusing that particular section of shop which housed thought-provoking, forward thinking works and romantic novels had been the impetus behind each of the members’ inclusion into their club, with the exception of Harriet and Margaret, the literary society’s founders, and Gwen, of course.
She had been nominated for membership by Georgina after she’d fought for, and achieved, Georgina’s first publishing contract.
She had been voted in by unanimous assent.
“It’s time,” Margaret announced. She and Gwen bustled into their respective places behind the table of booklets.
Georgina and Charlotte each took up a place at the book displays showcasing Georgina’s novels.
Harriet and Amelia moved to unlock and open the doors and usher the waiting patrons inside.
Nancy and her husband, Mr. Floyd, were the first to enter. Behind them, a seemingly endless line of shoppers streamed in.
Two hours passed in a flash. Shoppers availed themselves of cakes and lemonade as they raved about GT Arlington’s romantic novels, lapped up copies of the signed, exclusive booklet, and purchased Georgina’s previously published books—even if they already possessed them—thanks to the author having signed these.
Gwen was having the time of her life.
And then Gideon walked through the doors. She saw him immediately, of course, perhaps because he stood head and shoulders above most everyone else. But then, he also had an undeniable presence she could practically sense with her eyes closed. Evidently, she was not alone.
As he passed through the throng of shoppers, the crowd parted. Women of all ages gawked at his tall, lean, form, their conversations lagging as their gazes slid over his wavy, sun-kissed hair and burnished skin, set off as it was against the bright white of his shirt and cravat.
Many sighed. Gwen almost felt sorry for them. Of course they marveled at his elemental magnetism. How could they not? He was magnificent.
He moved directly to where she stood, his gait graceful and relaxed, his intense gaze locked on her and her alone.
Everything faded in that moment, save for Gideon. He made her feel so seen. So singled out, as if she mattered to him above all else—her thoughts, her pleasure, her.
When they talked, he listened to her. Really listened. And at night, when they came together—as they had every night since he’d invited her to spend the entire night in his bed—he took her body to dizzying heights of ecstasy.
And yet he had never so much as hinted at his true feelings for her. In fairness, neither had she, and he had quite stolen her heart. He must care for her, as well, mustn’t he?
“Good afternoon, madam.” Gideon’s slow, seductive smile sent a spray of gooseflesh over her limbs. “I trust your book fair is going well?”
She glanced around at the diminished piles of booklets and sent him a triumphant smile. “Beyond my wildest aspirations.”
“My congratulations. I would ask you to take a short break but somehow I think I would be wasting my breath.”
She chuckled. “Help yourself to some cake and have a gander around. I will see to this recent influx of patrons and then peel off for a few minutes, if you do not mind waiting.”
He nodded once and moved away.
Amelia sidled up between Margaret and Gwen. “Dearest, Harriet wishes you to join her for a cup of tea in the back. I told her I would take over for a while,” she told Margaret.
The two of them worked tirelessly for the next quarter of an hour, and then came a small break in the crowd.
A grinning Amelia wrapped her arm around Gwen’s shoulder and leaned close. “Don’t look now, but you have an admirer.” She inclined her chin toward the staircase to their left.
Gwen glanced over to see Gideon, leaning against the newel post, ankles crossed, apparently immersed in the book he held.
“I declare, Mrs. Devereux,” Amelia continued, whispering in Gwen’s ear, “your husband appears besotted in the extreme. He is devilishly handsome, is he not? Do not tell my husband I said so.”
In the next moment, Amelia straightened, her face sobering to greet the next customer.
Meanwhile, Gwen could not take her eyes off Gideon. Was he besotted with her, as Amelia claimed?
As she watched, he flipped a page, then lifted his unblinking gaze to meet hers. One corner of his mouth curved upward.
Dear Heaven. One of them was besotted for a certainty, and that person was her. With effort, she dragged her attention back to the line of customers before her, and was delighted to behold a familiar face.
“Lady Mary, how lovely that you’ve come.”
“I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”
Noting the presence of Mary’s husband, slightly behind her, Gwen greeted him, as well. “Mr. Tyrell, nice to see you here.”
He inclined his head. “You’re looking well. Quite a crush you have here, by the by, Gwen. Congratulations.”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about him using her Christian name, as if the two of them were old friends. “Thank you,” she said, hoping her smile hadn’t slipped.
“If the two of you don’t mind, I see a friend. Never fear, Mary, I’ll come find you in a moment.” With that, he was off.
“Now then, Lady Tyrell,” Gwen said. “Can I interest you in a hand-signed booklet?”
“Oh, yes, please.” She aimed a warm smile at Gwen and leaned in.
“I do so love Mr. Arlington’s novels. The way he writes with such deep insight into women, one would almost imagine the author to be a woman.
I have heard Mrs. Sheridan’s bookshop has a wide array of interesting books.
Gothic novels, horrid novels, even”—she glanced around and lowered her voice—“some books dealing with social issues at large.”
She had known the woman was not the addle-brained female most took her for, likely thanks to her manner of speech. Speech could be taught. Brains, one was born with. And an open mind? That was a gift. “You know, we should plan an outing together very soon. We can discuss books of all kinds.”