Page 30 of The Wallflower Manifesto
And just like that, Dot was gone, Abe Murphy was grinning, and Mr. Carruthers was twirling the morning glory vine in his hands.
The shopkeeper sighed and glanced up over the vibrant purple blossoms. “Don’t tell your friend,” he said to them, “but I actually bought that clock on holiday in Germany.”
It had been, all in all, a very unusual morning.
CHAPTER 12
“Steep price for a notebook,” Abe said with a raise of his tawny eyebrows as the two of them stepped out of the stationery shop. “You must really treasure your writings.”
Millie blushed, giving a little shake of her head. “I am not usually so indulgent, but I’ve a fondness for journaling and wanted to treat myself to something special.”
Abe nodded, pulling out the edge of the little pad he kept in his waistcoat pocket, bound on either side with tattered cardboard. “I’ve always considered the whole process more cursory than indulgent, truth be told.”
Millie smiled, her eyes following the little cardboard pad back into his pocket. “Well, I imagine we write our experiences down for wildly different reasons, Mr. Murphy.”
“Abe,” he reminded her, winning a flash of her teeth.
“Abe,” she amended, inclining her head. “Let’s walk this way. There’s a lovely little private square near my parents’ house we can enjoy.”
She looped her fingers through the crook of his elbow, surprising him enough that he almost stumbled. But of course, this was how the polite and proper of the world did things.
He placed his own, larger hand over hers, enjoying the spread of warmth and the softness of her fingers through the netting of her gloves. She led him down High Street, past several large pane windows that reflected their progress in such a charming fashion that Abe could not stop himself from admiring the effect each time it presented itself.
Russell Square, as the placard on the gate announced it, was only a block or so away from the shop. It was surrounded by hedges which met at a pair of black iron gates on opposing sides. Abe had passed it many times, especially during the time when he’d been surveilling the Fletcher house on behalf of Silas Cain, but he had never been inside.
From here, it was easy to see the fashionable denizens of Bloomsbury taking sedate strolls between the chestnut trees. Approaching the gate made him suddenly remember Freddy’s criticisms from this morning, and he wished he’d worn a cravat or a hat to make himself appear more respectable.
Millie produced a ring of three keys from her reticule and pushed a slender brass one into the gate’s lock.
“I should probably not have this key anymore,” she confessed as they passed into the fragrant embrace of the square, “as I am not in residence presently. But I will have to trust you not to expose me.”
“Ah, a dangerous assumption,” he teased, hoping for another sample of her tinkling laugh.
Instead, she paused and turned to him, considering him through hooded lashes. “Yes, I suppose it might be,” she said thoughtfully. “After all, you are a man who makes his living on the trade of other people’s secrets.”
“Never yours,” he said, with feeling. “I’ll promise you that.”
“You don’t know any of my secrets,” she replied with a grin, resuming their progress into the greenery. “Though I suspect you’ve been trying your hardest to remedy that misfortune.”
“How do you reckon?”
“By following my patroness,” she said slyly. “Her doings are mine, as you know. I half expected to see you skulking in the shadows when we left Brigid’s Forge last night. Don’t think I didn’t notice your eavesdropping at breakfast last week.”
“My dear woman,” he said with a delighted little chuckle. “If I had been skulking in the shadows, which I assure you I was not, you would never have spotted me. Besides, you did not leave last night. You left this morning.”
She narrowed those pretty brown eyes at him. “Ah, so it was one of your minions, then? Like that midwife you sent to Claire?”
His delight turned to surprise, this second laugh coming out as more of an exclamation. “Found out about that, did you?”
“Of course,” she said with a lift of her nose. “It is well of you to assume I always shall.”
“Ah, and there’s another of your secrets I’ll keep close to my vest.”
She laughed, dropping her haughty posture and giving him a little nudge with her elbow. “I am here to tell you secrets, Isuppose, but not mine own. Tell me, do you keep up with the gossip circulars during the Season?”
“Only if something truly salacious has happened,” he said. “I find the way they’re written to often be a bit ridiculous and overblown.”
“Well, all the best things are, I think. Really, Mr. Murph… Abe,” she corrected, holding up her index finger, which glinted with a delicate silver ring fashioned to resemble a woven branch. “Really,Abe, I would think you could find many leads for your investigations in such publications. Those who are written about often seek exoneration … or revenge. After all, that’s how we came to know one another.”
