Chapter Fourteen
“Please, Kalila, tell me that this is the last shop.”
Kalila turned to Caroline, who was doing very little to conceal her obvious irritation. They’d spent most of the morning and early afternoon combing through shops around Rosewood, and her friend was understandably sick of it.
But Kalila would be damned if she didn’t at least try to track Oliver’s microscope down. She’d spent half the night dwelling on it, dwelling on his poorly concealed pain. She couldn’t be rid of his father for him, but she could try to replace what had been taken.
“We’ll take tea soon, I promise,” Kalila said, scanning the shelves.
She knew it was unlikely for William Booth to have strayed far from Rosewood, and so she had restricted their search to the surrounding area.
The shop they stood in was stuffed from ceiling to floor with all manner of trinkets, both old and new.
The shelves were covered in a light layer of dust, and Kalila wished she had chosen a more appropriate dress for the excursion.
No doubt her pale-green skirts would be streaked in grime before the day was through.
“How hard is it to find a microscope, anyway?” Caroline groused, ducking under an ancient chandelier.
Kalila moved deeper into the shop. “Quite hard, apparently.”
“Do you think Mr. Booth would be content with an old pipe?” Caroline asked, picking up the object in question. She perked before reaching for another item on the shelf. “Oh! Or how about a wooden duck?”
“No to the pipe, maybe to the duck,” Kalila said, distracted. “It would remind him of his favorite pub.”
Caroline arched an eyebrow. “Look at you, a veritable expert on all things Oliver Booth.”
“An expert?” Kalila scoffed as her cheeks grew warm. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
Caroline gave an unconvinced murmur before saying, “Perhaps I shall buy this for Dameer. Maybe it will inspire him to improve his whittling.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Kalila climbed onto a rickety stool. “He no longer whittles. He’s interested in book binding now.”
“Then I shall buy him a badly bound book,” Caroline said, putting the duck back on the shelf. “Though I’m sure he’ll have found another hobby by supper.”
“Where is it?” Kalila grumbled to herself, hopping off the stool and pulling it down the aisle.
Caroline sneezed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this shop has not been cleaned since the day it opened its doors.”
“Nor would I,” Kalila said, glancing at her smudged clothing. “Would you like to wait outside? I know the dust irritates your nose.”
“Are you sure?” Caroline asked. “I don’t want to abandon you.”
“I won’t be long,” Kalila promised, climbing the stool again.
“Well, do be careful,” Caroline said, strolling away. “That stool seems ready to collapse at a moment’s notice.”
Kalila heard the delicate tinkle of the shopkeeper’s bell as Caroline stepped out.
It seemed that this shop boasted everything one could want—except a dratted brass microscope.
She peered past wet specimen jars and a box full of what appeared to be teeth, heaving a huge sigh as she did so.
Climbing off the stool once more, she dragged it a few paces before hopping up again.
And then she saw it. A small brass microscope, well-loved and worn with age.
The shopkeeper’s bell tinkled again. Given how little traffic the shop appeared to see, it was safe to assume that it was Caroline.
“Caroline!” Kalila called. “I found one!”
“She’s outside,” a voice said.
Kalila’s heart dropped straight to her boots. For a moment, she was inspired to use a word particularly favored by Dameer’s father. Looking down, she saw Oliver, who had his usual crooked grin on his face.
“Mr. Booth,” she squeaked. “Fancy running into you here.”
“Fancy running into you here,” he returned. “Quite unexpected, really.”
“Why?” Kalila asked, still balanced precariously on the stool. “Do you not expect women to frequent shops of this sort?”
“On the contrary,” Oliver said. “I only know that you’d find far better fare around that townhouse of yours.”
“Oh.” Kalila felt a blush creep up her neck. “Yes, well, I am in search of something particular. That’s all.”
“And it appears you have found it,” he said. “I must confess, I’m terribly curious.”
As was becoming quite typical, Kalila found herself backed into a corner. She couldn’t very well admit that she’d been trying to track down his microscope. Nor could she admit to scouting for a microscope of any kind, lest she inspire a line of questioning that she wasn’t prepared for.
There had to be a clever way for her to—
“It’s just behind this old thing,” she said, hauling the microscope off the shelf and passing it down to him. Whatever was behind the microscope would be her special find, whether she liked it or not.
To her relief, it was a little brown butterfly, preserved underneath a glass dome. Kalila dragged it toward her, hugging it to her chest. When she turned to Oliver, she saw that he was examining the side of the microscope with a dazed look in his eyes.
“Is there something special about it?” she asked, still towering over him.
Oliver blinked up at her. “Yes, actually. It’s mine.”
“What a happy coincidence,” Kalila remarked, all innocence. “Could you step back, please? I’d like to get down.”
Jumping as if a fire had been lit beneath him, Oliver shoved the microscope onto a nearby shelf and offered his hand to her. “Allow me.”
Kalila hesitated before placing her gloved hand in his. He steadied her as she stepped down, though she found that the cramped shelves did not provide nearly enough space for them to properly stand apart from one another.
“I’m glad to have reunited you with your microscope,” she said, unable to make sense of her sudden breathlessness. “Accident though it was.”
“Indeed,” he murmured, still holding onto her hand. The indirect contact caused a sweet warmth to flood her. “I’ve spent most of the morning searching for it.”
As have I.
“Well! Now we’ve both found what we’re looking for.”
“Yes,” he said. “I rather think we have.”
For a moment, all she could do was stare up at him, to revel in the cluttered privacy the shop provided them. When she returned to Painswick, she would never see him again.
The thought was almost enough to break her heart.
“My hand,” she said.
“My apologies,” Oliver responded, not sounding sorry at all. Releasing her, he nodded at the bell jar she held in her other arm. “What did you find?”
Kalila peered down at the rounded glass, heart beating in a wild staccato. “Oh. A butterfly.”
Oliver bent to examine the insect. “Unremarkable little thing.”
Lifting it, Kalila realized that he was right. The brown wings didn’t catch the light, nor did they boast any intricate patterns. “Someone has to take it home, I suppose. I’d feel sorry for it otherwise.”
He was silent for a moment, the shadow of a frown on his face. If she didn’t know any better, he was studying her mouth. He bent forward so slightly that another person might not have noticed, but Kalila did. Catching himself, he straightened.
Surely he had not wanted to kiss her. The thought alone was ridiculous, though the tense energy in her veins insisted otherwise.
“Is that what you were hoping to find, then?” he asked, an amused twinkle in his eye. “The most pathetic butterfly in London?”
“Yes,” she returned. “It will serve as a good reminder of my time here.”
“Will it? A nondescript little butterfly to remind you of your thoroughly uneventful visit to town?”
“You are correct,” she said, attempting to squeeze past him. The air was beginning to grow a touch too hot, which meant it was high time to make her escape. “My time here has been nothing but uneventful.”
Oliver pressed against the shelves to let her pass. “Even though we danced?”
“I’m afraid so,” Kalila said, making a beeline for the register. She nodded at the shopkeeper, who appeared to be half asleep with boredom. “Just this.”
“I’ll pay,” Oliver said from behind her, placing his microscope on the countertop. “This as well, please.”
“I’m perfectly capable of paying for my own butterfly, Mr. Booth,” Kalila said.
Oliver winked at her. “Consider it a thank you for finding my microscope. You saved me a whole day’s search. Surely that is worth one unremarkable butterfly.”
Kalila bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop a smile from taking over her face. It wouldn’t do to encourage him. “Very well. But I would have refused if the butterfly had been even the slightest bit remarkable.”
“I’m sure you would have,” he said, handing a banknote to the shopkeeper and accepting the change. He led Kalila to the exit, holding the door open for her.
Caroline stood on the pavement. “There you are. Hello again, Mr. Booth.”
“Hello, Miss Southcott,” Oliver said. He bent again to look at Kalila’s butterfly. “You might find this disappointing, Miss Darwish, but I believe your butterfly’s wings are slightly reflective.”
Kalila lifted the bell jar, noticing that her brown butterfly’s wings now shone with a muted lavender hue. “I’ll survive it, Mr. Booth. Thank you.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Might I walk you to your next destination?”
Kalila refused just as Caroline accepted.
“We’re otherwise engaged,” Kalila told her. “Remember?”
“Right, I forgot,” Caroline said. “Dameer is going to meet us here. We don’t need to inconvenience you, Mr. Booth.”
For a dreadful moment, it appeared as though Oliver was considering waiting with them. But it seemed that Kalila’s bad luck was over, because he simply offered them a polite smile and a bow.
“Then I shall take my leave. Good day, Miss Southcott.”
“Good day,” Caroline murmured, eyes darting between Oliver and Kalila.
“And good day to you, Miss Darwish,” he added cheerfully. “I’m rather glad that the butterfly ended up being slightly remarkable, after all.”
Baffled, Kalila said, “Are you?”
“Indeed. It’s sure to remind you of the ball now—arguably your most exciting night in London yet.”
Kalila suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Arguably, yes.”
With one last wicked grin, he was gone.
“My goodness,” Caroline breathed. “I don’t think you’ve ever been in so much danger.”
Kalila shook her head. “I am in no danger at all. Why didn’t you come save me?”
Caroline shrugged. “You know me. I’m terribly sensitive to dust.”