She glowered. “No, for expecting too much from the business itself. I fear I placed too much credence in the glowing descriptions of the novelists and the sensation plays. All that lovely nonsense about exquisite rapture and transcendent passion. I should have known that the reality would fall somewhat short.”
“In my opinion, you would do well to withhold judgment on the matter until you have conducted a few more experiments.”
“Hmm.”
He tightened his grip on her arm. “And I must insist that those experiments be conducted with me.”
For some reason the ominous tone of his voice elevated her spirits. Was he just a bit jealous?
“Why?” she asked lightly. “Surely it would be more scientific to experiment with a variety of gentlemen.”
He halted, forcing Louisa to stop, too.
“You are teasing me,” Anthony said evenly.
“Yes, of course I am.”
“Don’t. Not when it comes to that subject.”
“Very well.” She smiled a little.
“Correct me if I am wrong, but I was under the impression last night that you did not object to my kisses.”
She blushed. “No. That aspect of the business was quite gratifying.”
“I am relieved to hear that.”
He slid his warm, powerful hand around the nape of her neck, pulled her close very deliberately and kissed her. His mouth was a slow, seductive drug on her senses. Heat and excitement ignited within her. She put her free arm around his neck and abandoned herself to the tantalizing sensations that were igniting her senses. She could easily become addicted to Anthony’s kisses.
When he freed her a moment later, she was feeling breathless again, but not from fear this time.
“I must say, the novelists may have got things wrong when it comes to the denouement of the thing,” she announced, vastly pleased. “But they are quite correct when they write about the pleasures of illicit kisses.”
Anthony gave her his mysterious smile. “I shall take that as a sign of progress.” He took her arm and propelled her swiftly along the path. “But future experiments must wait. We have a more pressing problem.”
“Our investigation?”
“That, too. I now have a strong reason to believe that Hastings did not murder Thurlow, by the way.”
“What?”
“He set a man to watch Thurlow. I don’t think he would have done that if he intended to kill him.”
“Good heavens. That means that either Thurlow really did take his own life or—”
“Or someone else murdered him. For the moment, I’m assuming the latter, but first we must deal with an invitation.”
She made an impatient little sound. “Another boring society affair?”
“No. I cannot guarantee that you will enjoy this particular event, but I can promise that it will not be dull.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“My mother has invited you to tea tomorrow afternoon.”
She stopped short, utterly aghast. “Your mother. She cannot possibly want to meet me.”
“It was inevitable. She has heard the gossip about us.”
“But we are having an illicit affair. Mothers never want to entertain the women with whom their sons are conducting illicit liaisons.”
“You don’t know my mother.”
27
Anthony waited until the only other customer in Digby’s Bookshop had left before he put down the novel he had been pretending to examine and went to the counter.
Digby was seated at his desk. He did not look up from a catalog of rare books.
“What do you want?” he growled.
“I wish to purchase a book for a good friend who shops here,” Anthony said. “It is to be a surprise for a special occasion. My friend is very knowledgeable about rare volumes, but I lack expertise in the field. I thought perhaps you could assist me in selecting something that she will truly appreciate.”
Digby snorted and turned the page. “What’s the name of your friend?”
“Mrs. Bryce.”
Digby reluctantly put down the catalog and heaved an exasperated sigh. “No offense, sir, but the lady is a bloody nuisance.”
“In what way?”
Digby flung a hand wide, taking in the shelves of books. “Nothing in my shop is good enough for her. She only reads sensation novels. I don’t carry that sort of thing. I am a dealer in rare volumes.”
“I thought she came here specifically to purchase rare books.”
“There are only two such books that are important to her. Both exceedingly difficult to obtain,” Digby said grimly. “She’s very choosy. Very demanding. Not just any first editions, but specific first editions. Neither one was in my shop.”
“I understand you had some luck. She showed me the copy of a book on Aristotle that you located for her.”
Digby’s whiskers twitched in an irritated manner. “The only reason I was able to persuade the new owner to sell it to me was because he has no interest in rare books. Didn’t know the value of what he had. I haven’t been so fortunate with the owner of the Milton. Even if he could be convinced to sell, he made it clear the price would be far beyond Mrs. Bryce’s reach.”
“Perhaps if I spoke with the collector I could convince him to sell it to me,” Anthony suggested. “Would you give me his name?”
Digby scowled suspiciously. “Now, see here, Mrs. Bryce is employing me to find that book. Damned if I’ll hand the business over to you, sir.”
“I would, of course, pay you a commission as a token of my appreciation for your valued assistance.”
Digby did not appear enthused. “Even if I did give you the name of the collector, you probably won’t be able to talk him into selling.”
“I will pay the commission whether or not I am successful in acquiring the book for Mrs. Bryce,” Anthony said.
Digby’s brows formed a solid line above the rims of his spectacles. “The commission must be paid before I give you his name.”
“Of course,” Anthony said.
AN HOUR AND A HALF later Anthony was shown into a library that was so cluttered with bookshelves and volumes he could not immediately locate his host. The housekeeper disappeared before he could request directions.
“Lord Pepper?” he said to the seemingly uninhabited room.
“Over here, sir,” a gruff voice called out from behind a towering bookcase. “Near the window.”
Anthony threaded a path through a maze of books piled on the carpet and walked past several rows of bookcases.
A large, heavily built man lumbered to his feet behind a vast mahogany desk. His clothes were of good quality but sadly out of style. It had clearly been some time since he’d had his graying hair and whiskers trimmed. He smiled widely, displaying a gold tooth.
“Mr. Stalbridge, a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He motioned to a chair piled high with leather-bound tomes. “Sit down, sit down. With any luck my housekeeper will bring us some tea.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, sir.” Anthony picked up the stack of books on the chair and looked at his host. “Where shall I put these?”
“Just set them down anywhere on the floor.”
Easier said than done, Anthony thought. He eventually located a section of carpet that was not already littered with books and put down his burden, then returned to the chair and sat down.
Lord Pepper resumed his seat. “How is your father, young man?”
“Very well, sir. He sends his regards and asked me to ascertain that you are still satisfied with your Apollo Patented Safe.”
Pepper smiled fondly at the massive strongbox that stood next to the desk. “Perfectly satisfied. I have the utmost confidence in the Apollo. I may have to acquire another one soon, however. That one is full.”
“My father will be delighted to hear that.”
The Apollo was the reason he had got past the front door of Pepper’s town house. When he had mentioned the name of the owner of the Milton to his father, Marcus had recognized it immediately. “Known Pepper for years. Very keen on books.”