Page 50 of Temptations of a Wallflower
That settled it.
“No indeed.” He finished his breakfast in a few bites, swallowing a mouthful of coffee to wash it all down. Then he gave his mother another kiss before grabbing his hat. Within a few moments, he was on the street, walking toward the bookshop.
Finally, he reached McKinnon’s. It was early enough that the customers were few, both outside and within. The moment Jeremy set foot through the door, the tall bookseller appeared, carrying a stack of leather-bound tomes.
“Ah, Mr. Cleland,” McKinnon said, his deep voice drawling. “You’ve come for your book.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Jeremy replied. “I’ve no recollection of ordering anything from you.”
But the bookseller didn’t seem to hear him. “Just a moment, sir, and I’ll fetch it for you.” He unloaded his burden of other books onto the desk by the front door, then moved off toward the back room, where this mysterious volume awaited.
Deciding it was best to see exactly what this strange book was, Jeremy waited. He nodded politely to two women entering the bookshop arm in arm. They returned the greeting and disappeared into the stacks, whispering about the latest novel from a celebrated author.
McKinnon returned a short while later, bearing a small book bound in dark brown leather.
“Here you go, Mr. Cleland.” The bookseller handed him the tome. “It’s all paid for, so you’re free to take it home.”
Truly baffled now—books were expensive, and he didn’t prepay for them without making note of it—Jeremy consulted the front cover. It was a thin treatise about astronomy based on the most recent findings of Herschel. Though Jeremy found the subject of astronomy an interesting one as he had almost no understanding of how the cosmos and stars worked, he generally didn’t read much on the topic, spending most of his time consulting books of philosophy and theology.
Something was inside the book, forming a slight gap between the pages. He flipped the pages open until he reached the object, then started in surprise when he saw that it was a note, folded into a neat rectangle. His name was written on the note. And it was in Lady Sarah’s hand.
He glanced up to see if McKinnon watched him, but the bookseller had vanished in the peculiar way in which tall people could make themselves disappear noiselessly.
Jeremy’s heart sped up. What was the meaning of the note? After looking around to make certain he was truly alone, he pulled open the small bit of paper.
Dear Jeremy—
She’d used his Christian name. He traced his fingers over it, imagining her writing out the letters.
He continued to read.
Please meet me tomorrow afternoon at the Observatory at Greenwich.
Yours, &c.
Sarah
And there, she’d used her first name, as well, leaving off the honorific. What could it mean? There was a strange, laconic urgency to her note. She wasted no time on pleasantries. But then, when one left a secret letter for someone tucked inside a book, a long-winded missive discussing the weather didn’t seem quite called for.
But why had she been so secretive about asking to see him? She’d been much more open when inviting him to the exhibition of Oriental art. Now . . . well, he wasn’t sure what to think. Only that he’d soon see her again.
He could not wait.
The Royal Observatory at Greenwich stood impressively on the south bank of the Thames. Jeremy walked, then took a wherry across the stagnant river to reach his destination. He hadn’t slept well, excitement dancing along his nerves and Sarah’s visage appearing behindhis eyelids every time he’d tried to shut them. So he’d spent most of the night reading—notthe Lady of Dubious Quality’s work—and writing up plans for a winter festival in his parish. Winter wouldn’t be coming for a few more months, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared for the season.
The small skiff glided across the river, and Jeremy tried not to breathe in the stink of the water, thick as it was with fetid debris.
The wherry rocked as it approached the small pier just down the river from the Observatory. His own heart rocked with it.
After paying the ferryman, Jeremy climbed up the bank and headed toward the Observatory, standing proudly as it had for the past hundred and fifty years, a monument to man’s quest to look beyond himself and the limitations of this strange, small planet. The brick and white stone of the façade gleamed dully in the gray afternoon light, and its domes arched toward the sky. Where was Sarah?
Footsteps sounded, and he turned. His pulse thundered when he beheld Sarah walking toward him, dressed in a dove-gray spencer and pale pink bonnet. Her gaze was fixed only on his face as she neared. It seemed as if years had passed since he’d last seen her, though it couldn’t have been more than a week. She looked pale, her eyes shadowed but still impossibly lovely to his mind. He’d come to prize the assertiveness of her features, her unusual, strong beauty. How could anyone mistake her for a wallflower when she stood out from all the other soft, colorless young women?
She was quite alone.
No maid, no mother. No friends. Just herself. Clearly, this wasn’t a simple outing.
“Are you by yourself?” she asked, coming to stand in front of him.
