Page 50 of House of Thorns
Chapter Fourteen
A Slipper of Blue
“Damnation!” Olivia swore, sucking her fingertip. “Not again.”
She kicked the foot of the printing press bolted to the floor. Pain shot through her toe. Fine. That wasn’t the best of decisions, but she’d just smashed her finger for the third time that day and she hadn’t slept a wink last night. She’d stayed up to print her entire remaining paper supply in a desperate bid to raise the needed money.
At the first of the week, she’d lowered the price of every sheet of music she possessed, and thanks to Mrs. Reid, the silk merchant’s wife and the loudest gossip on the street, word spread. A new class of customers began trickling into her shop, primarily composed of the daughters of Glasgow’s merchants.
Still, she’d sold more music than she’d thought possible. She’d even made a small profit. Small, not enough to pay the wages of a shop lad, but since she was doing the work herself, it was enough to fuel her with a cautious optimism. Perhaps, just perhaps, she might make enough to cover the last payment, after all.
As for news of Louisa? She scowled. She’d received only two responses, both claiming no knowledge of the opera singer’s whereabouts but promises to deliver the letter should that change.
The press groaned, and she jerked back her hand, narrowly avoiding the frame as it fell into place.
At last, she was ready to print. Tiredly, she picked up the paper. There was so much to do. A little later in the morning, she had a few deliveries to make, one to Colonel Buids’ wife, only four townhouses away from her grandfather’s.
The thought of her grandfather summoned an image of him kneeling at her mother’s grave. She released the Devil’s Tail and rubbed the back of her neck. She couldn’t banish the image of the man from her mind. Again and again, at the oddest times, she saw his shaking shoulders, the angle of his head, rife with grief.
She thinned her lips.
Well, it was too late for sorrownow. He should have made peace with his daughter while she lived instead of waiting to whisper words on her gravestone.
As much as she wanted to check after Deborah’s welfare—she hadn’t heard from her in nearly a week—she wasn’t ready to risk seeing her grandfather again. Not yet.
And Nicholas?
The man had vanished from her shop, but then, such was the nature of a rake. That fact bothered her much more than it should.
“How could such a sweet, sweet lady give birth to such a man?” she asked acidly for what must have been the twentieth time, half hoping that voicing the condemnation would somehow chase the man from her mind.
Of course, it didn’t work. It only seemed to summon visions of his blue eyes. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the cap of the press. What kind of wanton woman was she to lust after her cousin’s soon-to-be husband?
Growling at herself, she forced herself to return to her task, and an hour later, she stood over the counters in the print room, eyeing the drying sheets with satisfaction, but only for a minute. She had deliveries to attend.
She’d just finished tying the last bundle in the front of the shop when Mrs. Lambert breezed in through the curtains.
“My dearchild.” The woman’s mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise upon taking in Olivia’s appearance. “Have you been up all night?”
Olivia answered with a grin and a yawn.
Mrs. Lambert thinned her lips, her mole hairs seeming to disapprove, as well.
“I’ll sleep tonight,” Olivia promised as she pushed past the woman and headed upstairs.
After she’d changed quickly, splashed water on her face, and dragged a comb through her hair, she ran back down the stairs and collected the music.
Four deliveries. She’d save the last for Colonel Buids’ wife.
She’d scarcely gone a dozen yards from her door when she heard her name. She prevented herself from turning, just in time.
Lord Randall.
Not wanting to speak with the man, she quickened her pace and ducked into a narrow alley where his carriage couldn’t follow. Not only did Nicholas’s warnings of the man ring true, she knew in her heart that he was up to no good. Not wanting to waste a thought on the man, she breathed deeply of the fresh, early summer air and hurried through Glasgow’s streets.
In short order, she delivered all four bundles, with the colonel’s being the last. As she stepped into the street to turn homewards, she paused.
She was so close to her grandfather’s townhouse. It wouldn’t hurt to pay a quick visit to Deborah…and if she found Nicholas there?
