Page 51 of Bookshop Cinderella

“It doesn’t, not to me. But it might to you. The bet was a joke, you said this afternoon when you invited me out. A lark to put it over on some nobs. But it seems a very expensive joke to me, not to mention a bit improper. And now that I’ve met him, I’m wondering if there’s more to this than meets the eye. Evie...” Anna paused, reaching out to lay a hand on her arm, forcing her to leave off her fascination with the view beyond the box. “As your friend, I must speak plainly. Has it even occurred to you that the duke might have designs on you?”

“Me?” Evie shook her head, laughing at that ridiculous possibility. “Heavens, no. He’s courting a girl already.”

“I’m not talking about courting. The hotel,” she went on as Evie opened her mouth to protest, “the clothes, all this...” She paused again, gesturing to their elegant surroundings. “Those are just the things a man might give his mistress.”

That sparked Evie’s temper. “A fine opinion you have of me, that you think I’m immoral enough to engage in that sort of arrangement with a man.”

“I’m not saying that—”

“What, then?” she demanded, growing angrier and more defensive by the moment. “Perhaps you think I’m so weak I’ll fall into his lap like a ripe little plum because of some champagne and clothes? Give me a bit of credit, Anna. I’m not a fool.”

“I’m not saying you’re weak or immoral or a fool, so don’t put words in my mouth. But it wouldn’t be hard for any woman to fall for a man like him and to deceive herself into thinking he loved her.”

“Love? What nonsense. I’m not sure I evenlikethe man. As for him, he’s been a perfect gentleman every single moment. And even if that was a trick, even if he was as two-faced and nefarious as you seem to think, I’m sure he could find himself a far more enticing woman to make his mistress than me. And,” she added as Anna tried to speak, “he would hardly be introducing me to other men and their mothers at the opera or putting me in the hands of his cousin—a woman I know, like, and trust, by the way—if his intentions were so dishonorable.”

Anna lifted her hands in a gesture of defeat. “All right, all right. Forgive my suspicious mind. As your friend, I felt it needed to be said. And if I might be allowed to give you one more piece of advice, it might be wise to keep in mind that he’s not part of your world, and you’re not part of his.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she said with a sigh, her temper cooling, her earlier enjoyment of the evening now completely gone because she knew, deep down, Anna was right to caution her. Any girl could fall for a man like him, easy as winking, and end up shattered and ruined. “And I have no intention of forgetting it.”

“For your sake, my dear friend,” Anna murmured gently, “I hope so.”

The lights went down and the music started, saving her from any reply, but she made one anyway, a whispered confession in the dark, smothered by the lurid notes of Wagner. “I hope so, too.”

***

Seven years spent working the Riviera and the resorts of Biarritz had taught Rory Callahan all about luxury hotels. The Savoy, as he well knew, was not the sort of place where anyone could just come in and lounge about. That sort of largesse was only offered to the hotel’s patrons, and though he didn’t have the funds to be one of those, he knew he could get past the doormen by looking the part.

Rory straightened away from the mirror above the washstand to study his reflection in the dim lamplight. He brushed a speck of lint from the satin lapel of his dinner jacket and tweaked his white tie, then he smoothed his pomaded hair back from his temples, donned his top hat, and took another look. Satisfied by what he saw, he gave his reflection a wink, turned away, and picked up his gloves, pulling them on as he left his lodging house in Queen Street and started toward the Savoy.

As he walked, he thought about the astonishing things he’d learned from Clarence this afternoon. Evie staying at the Savoy? Where had she gotten the money for that? When he’d asked how she could afford it, the boy had merely shrugged, saying she must have come into a legacy or won the sweeps, or something, because not only was she staying at the Savoy for the next six weeks, she’d also bought herself a slew of new clothes from a very posh dressmaker and she was taking his mum to the opera tonight as a special treat.

Rory paused at the corner, and as he waited for the traffic to clear so he could cross the Strand, he considered his next move. He’d stroll into the hotel like any gent coming back from the theater, park himself in a reading chair, and pretend to read the paper as he watched the entrance for Evie’s return from the opera. That way, he could easily intercept her before she went upstairs. But what then?

Playing the part of concerned friend was his best bet, he decided as he crossed the Strand. He’d tell her he’d come to find her because he was worried about her. That made sense, considering he’d heard from her only once—a letter to his lodging house ten days ago, telling him about the boiler explosion and the closing of the shop for repairs. He’d confirm getting that note, then he’d play on her conscience, gently chiding her for not telling him where she would be staying, pointing out that he shouldn’t have to learn such things from Clarence. Then, he’d invite her to have supper with him in the restaurant, and there, he’d ply her with wine and worm out of her just how much money she really had.

He knew she had the shop, of course, and that the mortgage was paid off. Selling the place, along with all its musty, crumbling old books, would bring in a pretty sum—five thousand pounds, at least. And if she could afford expensive clothes and a holiday at the Savoy, she had cash, too. But to get his hands on all that, he’d probably have to marry her.

A week ago, settling for plain little Evie hadn’t been his plan, of course. No, he’d had other fish to fry. But now?

Resentment flared in him as he thought of the fish in question, a voluptuous, decidedly pretty British fish named Gladys Otterbourne, a fish he’d been sure was on the hook after the splash he’d made for her and her wealthy father in Nice. He’d spent the last of the Zurich swindle following them from the Côte d’Azur to Paris to England, and by time he’d arrived in London, he’d only a few shillings in his pocket, a suitcase of expensive suits, and Gladys’s well-primed passion. Never had he dreamed her father would set private detectives on his track or that Gladys’s passion would cool upon learning the truth about him. Women, Rory knew from experience, usually loved a bad lot. Just his luck that Gladys was more hardheaded and practical than most. She and her father had sent him off with a flea in his ear a week ago, destroying all his plans.

Nowhe was nearly broke again. The few quid he’d made the other night by milking chaps in his old neighborhood for donations to fund nonexistent political ambitions would soon be gone. And he doubted he could keep up the politics trick for longbefore everyone got wise. No, he needed a new source of funds, and since Gladys and her fat dowry had gone sailing into the wind, Evie had become his best option.

She wasn’t as pretty as Gladys, of course, but that only meant she’d be a much easier conquest. Just ten days ago, she’d practically been eating out of his hand, and at that point, he hadn’t even been trying to impress her. A few weeks of seduction, and she’d be panting to marry him.

Just outside the Savoy, Rory stopped at a flower stall to buy a fresh carnation for his buttonhole. At the newsstand beside it, he purchased an evening paper, then he entered the hotel courtyard, circled the fountain, and made his way to the entrance doors. As he’d anticipated, the doorman didn’t blink an eye at the sight of him, but instead opened the door wide, giving Rory a respectful nod as he passed into the foyer.

Once inside, he made for the cluster of reading chairs to his left. He selected one with a clear view of the entrance doors, settled in, and opened the paper to wait for Evie’s return from the opera, but he didn’t have to wait long. He’d only been there about fifteen minutes before the number of people returning to the hotel rose significantly, telling him the theaters had let out. Covent Garden would not be far behind.

Over the top of his paper, he watched the nobs as they strolled by in their finery, and he was so occupied with calculating the value of their jewels, tiepins, and gold-topped walking sticks that he almost missed his quarry.

Not that he could be blamed for it. In a gown and matching cape of plum-colored velvet, a feathery falderal in her hair, she didn’t look anything like the gawky, freckle-faced girl he’d always known. Scrawny as ever, of course, but the velvet seemed to pad her a bit in all the right places. She walked differently, too, moving in her elegant finery with a newfound assurance and grace that made her seem quite different.

As she paused by the cloak room, he noticed her friend Anna with her. He hadn’t counted on that. He’d have thought Anna would have gone straight home from Covent Garden. Even more surprising, Anna was not her only companion. She was also accompanied by several other people, none of whom he’d ever seen before. Who were these people?

She and her companions started across the foyer in his direction, and he tensed in his seat, his mind striving to come up with something to say now that inviting her to dine with him was out the window. But he soon discovered that he needn’t have bothered. She walked right by him without even glancing in his direction. Too elegant in her velvets and too preoccupied with her toplofty new friends, he thought sourly, to even see him anymore.

He turned his head, watching as she continued on toward the restaurant with her companions. What was she on about, gallivanting around London, making new friends, spending money like water? Now that she had some money to spend, was she trying to move up the social ladder? She did have an uncle who was a baron—perhaps that was the older gentleman? If she was trying to ingratiate herself with her titled relations and she succeeded, Rory knew he didn’t stand a chance.

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