Page 51 of The Fiancée Farce
Gemma slowed in front of a set of double doors and reached for the handle, trying it, swearing softly under her breath when she found it locked. Her grip tightened on Tansy’s fingers. “I really didn’t mean to throw you to the wolves, but whatever you said to him? He seemed to like you. Not that I’m surprised.”
“No?”
“You’re an easy person to like.” Gemma turned, eyeing Tansy’s updo. “Is there a bobby pin hidden in there somewhere? Two, preferably?”
“Um.” Tansy slipped her fingers in the hair along her nape, finding one that hopefully wasn’t doing too much heavy lifting. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Gemma took the bobby pin, passing Tansy the bottle of scotch before kneeling on the hardwood floor in front of the door. “This should only take a second.”
“Have a lot of experience picking locks, do you?” she joked.
“What can I say?” Gemma looked up at Tansy through her lashes and smirked. “I like locked doors just about as much as I like being told I can’t do something.”
Gemma bit the rubber of the end of the bobby pin and inserted it into the lock. “Another?”
Tansy plucked another bobby pin free and felt her hair fall slightly. She’d fix it later. “We’re not going to get into trouble for this, right?”
“For what?” Gemma inserted the second pin into the lock, using the first like a lever, turning it counterclockwise. “Breaking into the library? Hardly.”
“Library?” If her voice was full of wonder it was becauseshewas full of wonder. “Your family has a library?”
“Ha!” The handle turned, Gemma’s lockpicking successful. “They sure do.” She stood and dusted off her knees, gesturing for Tansy to enter first. “After you.”
Tansy handed Gemma her bottle back and slipped inside the room, drawing up short just inside the doorway. “Oh my God.”
She’d been picturing a simple room with shelves along the perimeter, maybe a fireplace and a few oversized, overstuffed leather armchairs. More of a smoking room or parlor. But this—thiswas a library. An actual library, with stacks upon stacks filling the room, all mahogany wood and leatherbound books and,mm, the intoxicating scent of paper and ink. It was a smell that would never get old.
“You’re easily impressed for someone who owns a bookstore,” Gemma said, shutting the door behind them.
“But this is alibrary.” Tansy drew in another lungful of that scent, catching a hint of Gemma’s perfume, vanilla and vetiver. The combination was heady, making her knees weak. “It’s completely different. Old books versus new. We only sell new books at the store. But I’d love to start a rare book room.”
She had a modest collection of her own, first editions and hard-to-find copies, books that were out of print or special editions. But she’d love to expand the store. It was one of the items on her list of ways to improve profits—expand the clientele to those searching for secondhand books.
“You should do it.”
“We have an extra storage room we could convert, but we’d have to tear out a wall and make sure it’s climate controlled and”—Tansy laughed—“that’s a little beyond my DIY capabilities.”
“Hire someone. You know, an expert.”
“That’s the thing about experts.” Tansy smiled. “They usually like money.”
And Tansy wasn’t exactly rolling around in that. The six million dollars she’d be getting from Gemma would go to the purchase of the store, and her savings was small, most of her paycheck going to the necessities.
Gemma frowned.
“It’s—oh.Is that a ladder?”
Tansy bounded across the room, blisters be damned, torn between the desire to run her fingers along the spines of the books and the rungs of the ladder. Alibraryladder.
Behind her, Gemma laughed.
“This is my favorite room in the house.” Gemma’s heels clacked softly against the wooden floor as she approached. “For as long as I can remember, we’ve celebrated holidays at my grandfather’s house. No one found me when I hid in here.” Gemma stopped beside Tansy and ran her fingers along the shelf, touching the spines with a gentleness that bordered on reverence. “Then again, I don’t think anyone ever came looking for me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling like somehow that wasn’t good enough.
Gemma snorted. “Why? You didn’t do anything. Besides, I didn’t come in here to talk about my family. I came here to get away from my family.” She tugged the cork out of the scotch and took a swig straight from the bottle. She held it out to Tansy. “You want?”
Tansy shook her head. “No thanks.”
