Page 32 of Beauty Tempts the Beast
“Before you take your leave, Mr. Trewlove, as you’re here, and if you would not consider it an imposition, I wondered if you’d be good enough”—he opened a drawer, withdrew a book, and set it on the desk—“to sign your novel for the wife. She enjoyed it immensely.”
Stunned, Althea wondered if he was talking to someone who had wandered into the room unobserved. Although Mr. Beckwith had addressed him by name, she couldn’t fathom that he was implying Benedict Trewlove was an author.
But Benedict picked up the book and the pen with which he’d signed their agreement only moments earlier. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to say?”
“I shall leave it to the discretion of the wordsmith. Her name is Anne, with an E at the end.”
In fascination, she watched as Benedict turned back the cover, dipped the pen in the inkwell, and scrawled inside the book. Not closing it, he handed it back to Mr. Beckwith.
“‘To Anne, a woman of mystery. Yours sincerely, Benedict Trewlove.’ Ha. She’ll love that.” He smiled. “I very much appreciate it. She did want me to inquire as to when the next one might be published.”
“Sometime late next year.”
“I shall so inform her. Do you require anything else of me?”
“Not at the moment. We appreciate your discretion on this matter.”
“By all means. It is one of the things for which you pay me so handsomely.”
He shook Mr. Beckwith’s hand. “Good day to you, then.”
Mr. Beckwith smiled at her. “It was a pleasure, Miss Stanwick.”
“Thank you, sir.”
With his fingers splayed over her lower back, Benedict urged her toward the door, and she wondered if it was with that hand that he penned novels.
It seemed while he’d asked many questions of her, her shame over her answers had numbed her to the need to make inquiries of him as well. Quite suddenly, she realized she knew very little about him and wanted to know everything.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were an author?”
She’d waited until they were settled in a hansom cab and were on their way to ask her question of him.
“It’s not something that easily comes up in conversation.” Beast sighed. “And to be honest, I’m not quite comfortable with it yet. I don’t know that it’ll last. The one I’m writing now is not... cooperating. Which makes me sound like a madman, as though a novel is a living thing that determines where it goes.”
“But it is, isn’t it? A living thing? Even when it’s finished, it breathes life into people as they read it. Or they breathe life into it. The reason I love books is because it’s as though I’m traveling with a friend.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Mostly because he felt much the same way, and for him, books had always provided an escape from a reality that had not always been kind.
“How many have you published?”
“My first was published about two months ago.”
“Is it in bookshops?”
Her flurry of questions and her excitement made him even more self-conscious. He lifted a shoulder, dropped it. “In many of them. I don’t know if it’s in all of them.” His sister Fancy, the Countess of Rosemont, owned a bookshop, the Fancy Book Emporium. She’d ordered in about a thousand copies. Or so it had seemed.
“What is the title?”
“Murder at Ten Bells.”The proprietor of the pub in Whitechapel hadn’t minded his use of the establishment for the setting of the murder. Apparently, the notoriety had brought an increase in business to his door.
Her smile of delight tightened his chest. “That’s the reason you wrote to Mrs. Beckwith what you did. A woman of mystery. Because you write mysteries.”
He viewed what he wrote as more of a detective story than anything.
“I want you to tell me everything.”
What more was there to tell? As he realized where they were, he shifted his focus to something of a more urgent nature that required his attention. He’d meant to inform her after they’d climbed into the cab that they’d soon be parting ways, but then she’d begun her inquisition. “I appreciate your interest. However, it will have to wait. It’s not oftenthat I get to this area of London, and I need to make a stop elsewhere. If you’ve no objection, I’ll have the driver drop me off and carry you on to the residence.”
