Mr. Runyon escorted her into his smartblack carriage and sat across from her. Tilda, ever vigilant, sat onAlexandra’s left. She and Mr. Runyon spoke of pleasantries until thecarriage halted in front of an enormous gray stone building with large glasswindows facing the street. A large sign hung above the entrance from aburnished copper pole. “Thrumbadge’s”, then underneath, “Booksellers andLending Library.”
Alexandra jumped up as soon as thecarriage doors opened. Excitement ran through her at the thought of allthose luscious books waiting for her discovery.
Mr. Runyon gave her an indulgent smile,taking her hand to assist her from the carriage. He squeezed her fingers.
Tilda heaved her herself up from thesquabs, grunting in displeasure. A visit to the booksellers did not sitas well with the maid as it did with Alexandra. The scowl on her featuresgave credence to her lack of interest.
“Thank you, Tilda. Your presence isnot required in Thrumbadge’s. Miss Dunforth shall be very safe withme.”
Tilda nodded mutely, sitting back down inrelief.
Mr. Runyon gave Alexandra a wink andextended his arm.
She squeaked in delight as they enteredthe booksellers. Alexandra simply couldn’t help it. She could notbelieve the size, the breadth, or the selection of the establishment.Through the windows facing the street, Alexandra could clearly see the hundredsof volumes stacked neatly within. Why, it looked as if the shelvesstretched on forever!
“Thank you for bringing me, Mr.Runyon.” She dropped his arm and ran to the entrance, urging him with awave of one gloved hand to hurry.
He laughed at her urgency toenter. “Miss Dunforth, your pleasure is all the thanks Ineed. You look like a child at Christmas!”
Alexandra giggled, waiting impatientlyfor him to catch up. He caught her hand, tucked it securely in the crookof his arm and nodded to the doorman. Blue eyes twinkling ather, he opened the door with a flourish and waved her inside. “Welcome toThrumbadge’s, Miss Dunforth.”
”Oh!” It was all she couldsay. Alexandra valued knowledge above all else, and books representedknowledge. She looked at the hundreds of leather bound tomes, the stacksof periodicals, and the small army of male clerks who bustled amongst thecustomers and sighed in exquisite delight. Thrumbadge’s fit very neatlyinto what Alexandra’s version of what heaven must be like.
“May I?” She looked at Mr. Runyoneagerly. She trod over to a large brass plate affixed to the end of oneaisle. The plate read, “History and Geography".
“Of course! I shall seat myselfjust there. I haven’t yet read the Times today.” He pointed to an area withseveral large wing backed chairs. “Peruse to your heart’s content.” Hebowed slightly.
Alexandra didn’t know where tobegin. Choices abounded. She decided to explore, starting with theaisle before her. Perhaps, a book on the Far East. Or Macao. Shehad a driving curiosity about Macao.
***
Lord Sutton Reynolds listened to hissister, Miranda, chatter non-stop, as they walked through Thrumbadge's.His days had been filled with inquiries into the latest attacks on him, poringover dozens of account books for his various estates, and weeding through thestack of bills his stepmother sent round to him on a daily basis. Theamount of money she planned to spend on her birthday celebration at GrayCovington was costing a bloody fortune. He ran a hand through hishair. The irony of paying for Jeanette’s birthday ball when she'dattempted to have him killed was not lost on Sutton. He needed to be surethat she was the culprit before he took action. Very sure.
Sutton eyed the rows of books.Books calmed him. He wondered if Miss Dunforth, who shared his love ofthe written word, shopped at Thrumbadge’s. He should ask her, if he sawher again. He knew Miss Dunforth to be fast friends with Miranda.The two women attended a musicale together, and he’d spied Miss Dunforthrapidly retreating into a hallway to avoid speaking to him.
The Badger, or rather his attraction toher, gave Sutton a muddled feeling, as if he had drunk too much brandy.Until his desire for her was under control, or until the Badger cast asidecaution and allowed herself to be in his presence, he thought it best to keephis distance. He entertained himself with some of the most beautiful womenin London, namely Countess Rutherford, but even that woman could not push asidethe image of Miss Dunforth.Alex. The Dowager dropped MissDunforth’s name repeatedly within Sutton’s hearing, waiting for him to askafter her. Cagey old bird, Donata. He needed to be careful aroundhis grandmother.
Sutton walked down a long row of books ongeography and wondered why one small, bookish Badger held him in thrall.He barely knew her. Her prickly manner and her sharp tongue would flay aman alive. He should know.
“Cam, I am going just over there.”Miranda pointed to the other side of Thrumbadge’s where Sutton suspected theLord Thurston novels were shelved. “Look, there are some dreadfully dullbooks on history, filled with dead people and events no one cares to discussanymore. I’m sure you’ll be enthralled for hours,” Miranda said saucilybefore sauntering down the aisle. Impishly she looked over hershoulder. "Perhaps we should get mother a book for her birthday.”Miranda opened her eyes innocently and burst into giggles. It wasdoubtful Jeanette Reynolds ever read a book in her life, except for possiblyDerbert’s Peerage.
Sutton pretended sternness. “Be gone, youminx.” How Miranda sprang from Jeanette Reynolds mystified Sutton.Miranda and his younger sister, Elizabeth bore little resemblance to theirmother, for which Sutton gave eternal thanks. “I will be here amongst thePharaohs,” he called after her.
Sutton’s newest area of interest happenedto be Egyptian history. Mummies in particular fascinated him.The sound of humming came from the next aisle. Heels clicked across thewood floor, so the hummer must be female. An elderlyspinster. Few attractive women were interested in the contents of theaisles on either side; Plato and travel essays.
Curiosity got the best of him. Hepeered through a stack and was rewarded by the view of a green bonnet perchedatop a mass of chestnut curls. The heavy mass of hair, already escapingthe bonnet, perched atop an ivory column of neck and was situated on a delectablefemale form with an overabundance of bosom. Miss AlexandraDunforth. As if he in thinking of the Badger he’d conjured her up fromthin air. His appreciation grew for her ability to appear in themost unexpected places.The tiny, bonneted head disappeared as sherounded the aisle.
The click of her heels sounded frombehind him. The heels stopped. A gasp sounded in the aisle.
Sutton turned and caught Miss AlexandraDunforth trying desperately to flee before being seen. The tiny form skittereddown another row and around a giant stack of periodicals from the HistoricalSociety and out of his view.
Sutton stopped moving. Whenhe’d lived in Macao, he went on a tiger hunt with a group of Portuguesedignitaries. The men all hunters confident in their abilities, stomped throughthe jungle in an attempt to flush out the beast. But, not Sutton.He’d climbed the highest tree within reach. While the rest of the huntingparty continued to track the beast through the jungle, Sutton waited on a branch,feet dangling and gun ready. The tiger eventually appeared behindthe hunting party. Sutton bagged it. He was a patient man.Besides, Badgers weren’t nearly as subtle as tigers.
He heard a tiny sniff, like the sound ofa mouse choking on a piece of cheese. Whirling to his left, he lookedthrough the stack of periodicals. Wide gray eyes, the color of a stormysky popped up, then, vanished, as Alexandra attempted to escape in anotherdirection.
He caught a flash of her green gown asshe hurried down the aisle. Sutton turned abruptly and calmly walked theway he had come. He simply stood still and let her run into him.
“Oomph!” It sounded mostunladylike.
