Page 21 of House of Thorns
The lad scratched his nose.
Olivia gritted her teeth. “Go. Now. We’ve work to do.”
He dove behind the curtains before she could twist his ear.
Olivia growled under her breath. The sound of her father’s piano filtered in from the back of the shop. At least he was happy. She heaved a sigh and divesting herself of her hat and pelisse, grabbed an apron and headed for the print room.
By the end of the hour, she stood over the frames with a sense of satisfaction, inspecting each bar line, musical symbol, and stave thrice over.
“They’re ready.” She dusted her hands and turned to where she’d expected William to be.
Again, there was no sign of him. She scowled. She couldn’t afford to pay him anymore, not when he offered her not a smidgeon of work in return.
The bell on the shop door jingled. Perhaps, the customers had come, at last? Eagerly, she hurried to the front. Pushing the curtain aside, she peered into the shop.
A man, his broad shoulders covered by a finely tailored navy coat with silver shanked buttons. She grinned. A customer—and a rich one, at that.
Dusting her skirts, she stepped into the room. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
Then, her heart stood still. She’d quite forgotten him, but now that he stood before her again, every delicious detail of their kiss flooded her mind.
It was the blond-haired stranger from Lady Blair’s garden party.
