Anne gave her a broad smile. “Good afternoon, Annie. I’m so pleased to see you again. How have you settled in here?”
“Quite well, thank you.”
“Wonderful.” Anne held out the wrapped pillow. “I brought you this for your room.”
Her eyes lighting, Annie’s mouth formed a small O as she accepted the package. “Thank you.”
“Go on, open it,” Anne encouraged with a smile.
Annie carefully tore the paper away and exposed the small ivory pillow. Colorful embroidered books of varying sizes marched along the edges. “It’s so beautiful.” She lifted her gaze to Anne’s. “I’ve never owned anything so lovely.”
“Well, you do now,” Anne said matter-of-factly. “Did you read the book so we may discuss it?”
Annie blinked as if she was having a hard time, and Rafe knew she must. To be the recipient of so much kindness and generosity after what she was used to was almost unbelievable. “I did. I thought we might go to the back of the shop.”
Anne looked toward Rafe. “Should Mr. Mallory join us?”
A look of distress creased Annie’s features. “Is that your name?”
Rafe exhaled. The child ought to know him as Mr. Bowles, but it was likely she also knew him as Mr. Blackwell if anyone had told her who he used to be. Several of the folks on Paternoster Row had met him as Rafe Blackwell. Indeed, John sometimes had trouble thinking of him as Bowles.
That was the problem with changing your name and not severing ties with everyone who knew you as the previous name. This bookshop was the one constant from when he’d been Blackwell and then Bowles. He’d divested everything as Blackwell over the past few years and replaced them with Mr. Bowles’ interests. Now he was on the verge of changing his identity yet again, but he didn’t need to hide that he’d been Mr. Bowles. Furthermore, that would be impossible since that was how he’d been introduced to Society.
“I am actually Lord Stone,” Rafe said. “Or I shall be, perhaps by the end of the week.” He’d explained the revelation to John when he’d stopped by the shop Saturday afternoon.
Annie’s eyes rounded. “A lord?” She looked to Anne. “Er, I don’t know how to curtsey.”
“I can teach you, if you’d like,” Anne said. “Come, show me to the back, and we’ll have a lesson.”
Nodding shyly, Annie clutched the pillow to her chest and led her toward the rear of the shop. Anne cast a look at Rafe over her shoulder, silently asking if he was coming.
“I’ll be along shortly,” he said before turning to John. “I see she’s wearing the clothes I brought on Saturday.”
“Indeed. She was most grateful. Please thank your sister.”
Selina had gathered the clothing for him and been pleased to do so. Rafe took a step toward the back to join the ladies.
“Ah, you should be aware that there is something…afoot back there,” John said, his brows climbing.
“What’s that?”
John cracked a smiled. “I won’t spoil the specifics. Suffice it to say that all the help you’ve given is now being directed back at you.”
Oh God, what did that mean? And why was John clearly amused by it?
“I see.” Except he did not. But he planned to.
Rafe stalked to the back of the shop. There was a storeroom, an office, and a sitting area near the stairs that led up to the apartments upstairs. It was in the latter where he found Anne, along with three boys, two of whom still lived upstairs and one who had moved out nearly a year before. He’d taken lodgings in Cheapside where he’d become a tailor’s apprentice. The lad was quite skilled with a needle. Rafe had kept in contact with him and had even commissioned his shop to make some of his clothing for the Season.
“Daniel,” Rafe said, extending his hand to the sixteen-year-old with thick russet hair and sizing him up. “You’re looking taller. What brings you here today?”
“I, ah, had the afternoon off, sir. Charlie and Bart invited me to come by.”
Rafe looked around the room and noted a table and two chairs had been set in the center. The table was adorned with a nice but simple cloth, and a complement of mismatched dishes.
He looked at Anne, who was seated in one of the chairs. “Where’s Annie?”
“She went to fetch tea,” Anne replied.
The youngest of the boys, Charlie, dashed up the stairs while Bart went to hold the other chair. “Will you sit, sir? We have tea and cakes for you and Mrs. Dazzling.”
“Mrs. Dazzling.” Rafe blinked at Anne, who lifted a shoulder. “Mr. Entwhistle told you her name?” Rafe asked Bart, a lad of thirteen with dark blond hair and an eye that didn’t track normally, always straggling behind the other when his gaze fixed on a subject.
“Yes, sir,” Bart said. “Will you sit?” he repeated.
Rafe went and took the chair. “Thank you.” He leaned toward Anne. “I thought you were going to discuss the book with Annie.”
“I thought so too.” Anne lifted a shoulder, looking as bewildered as he felt. “I showed her how to curtsey, but then she insisted I sit.”
John’s words came back to him—they were trying to help him? How?
Annie came down the stairs bearing a teapot wrapped in a cloth. She set it on the table as Charlie followed her with a plate of biscuits.
“Thank you,” Anne said. “This looks lovely. Won’t you be joining us?” she asked the children.
They all shook their heads, with Daniel answering, “No. This is for you. In fact, we’ll leave you alone now.” He looked to the others, and they began to file up the stairs, starting with Charlie.
Anne turned in her chair, looking at Annie. “I thought we were going to discuss the book.”
“I, er, I didn’t finish it.”
“You said you did,” Anne said with a slight, confused frown.
Annie gave her a sheepish look. “I forgot.” She
