Page 28 of The Wallflower Manifesto
Dear Abe,
I’ve information you need to hear. Find me on the High Street in Bloomsbury before noon. I do not know exactly where I will be, but I trust you need little help in tracking me down. After all, it is your speciality.
Your friend,
Millie
He smirked to himself.She considered herself his friend, did she? Well, that was certainly progress. Though he would never be satisfied as simply her friend.
A merciful little breeze blew through the avenue as Abe made his way toward Bloomsbury. People were already out and about, likely trying to complete their errands before the day grew any warmer.
There was a scent of honeysuckle in the air, spun into the wind by twirling lace parasols and excitable dogs wagging furry tails on their morning promenades.
What information might the lovely Miss Yardley have for him, he wondered. Surely she was not ready to start informing on her mistress? No, it couldn’t be that, and with nothing else obvious in his mind, Abe found himself tugged along by the irresistible lure of a mystery.
It didn’t take him long to spot her, accompanied by Dot Cain on the steps of a stationery shop opposite a bakery. She was dressed in a pale dove gray today with dark purple beads sparkling against the sunlight and illuminating her lovely pale skin.
He trailed after them at a distance, not yet ready to draw attention to himself. He had hoped to catch Miss Yardley alone, and if he was patient, perhaps she would conclude her business with the other woman.
Her hair was caught up in a matching purple ribbon, its color melting into the dark hues of her hair. He imagined, even from down the street, that she smelled of freshly sliced pears.
The ladies entered the shop, the sound of the bell above the door tinkling into the wind like a lure for Abe to draw nearer.
He sighed as the minutes passed, and he checked his appearance once more in the pane glass of a printing house before resolving to get closer. He could not see her through the glare bouncing off the windows of the little stationery store, so either he was waiting indefinitely or he was going to have to go in there after her.
The latter was more appealing, he decided, especially given the heat. His impatience, of course, was no consideration at all.
“Could you do morning glories?”Millie asked, leaning over the examples of flowers etched into leather that the shopkeeper had brought out for her. They were, of course, mostly roses, with the odd lily or gardenia interspersed amongst the leaves.
She didnotwant roses on her new journal.
“Which flowers are those?” the gentleman behind the counter asked, adjusting his monocle. “The little white and yellow ones that grow in fields?”
“Those are daisies,” Dot offered with a little smile. “Morning glories are the purple and blue ones on vines. Actually, there are some growing just down the street at my house. Shall I run and get a sample?”
“Would you?” Millie asked, turning to look at her friend with gratitude. “I would be ever so grateful.”
“Of course! I’ll be back in a tick.”
“I’m afraid I’ve never been much use with botany,” the shopkeeper told her with an apologetic little smile as Dot swept out of the store. “When I was a boy, I once brought my poor mum a bouquet of stinging nettles on her birthday.”
Millie giggled as the man winked with the eye behind the monocle.
The bell above the door gave a second ring, surely too quickly for Dot to have returned with flowers. Millie turned around all the same, ready to praise her friend for her fleet foot, but froze, her heart leaping into her throat at the appearance of a very dashing-looking Abraham Murphy.
“Mr. Murphy!” she managed, her voice thinner than she would have liked. “You’ve found me! I wasn’t expecting you for another hour at least.”
He gave her a crooked little smile, leaning around to catch a glimpse of the cuckoo clock behind the counter before returning those twinkling hazel eyes back to her. “In an hour, I could have found you without any hints whatsoever.”
“I’m sure you could have,” she managed, fully aware she was blushing. “I am just choosing materials for a new journal. Would you like to see?”
“By all means.” He closed the distance between them and leaned over her shoulder, seemingly oblivious to the way his nearness had increased the pace of her heart.
“Mr. Carruthers here has brought out many shades of blue for me to choose from,” she explained, gesturing to the small patches of dyed leather on the counter. “Which do you like?”
“Hm,” he mused, touching some of the samples and hovering over a pale crystal blue. “The lighter ones suit you. This one, I think.”
“That one will showcase the design very nicely,” the shopkeeper agreed. “The darker the color, the harder it can be to see the indentations.”
