The Gentleman and the Thief (The Dread Penny Society #2) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,11

do not always come on calling day. Something has brought you here this time.”

She was astute; there was no mistaking that. “I have, indeed, come with a matter of business,” he said. “But as I greatly enjoy your company, my business is not my only motivation in being here.”

“You have piqued my interest, Mr. Darby. What is this business which compelled this visit?”

“Have you any interest in providing private music lessons?” he asked.

With a twinkle of mischief in her eye, she said, “Why, Mr. Darby. I had no idea you harbored musical ambitions.”

If he thought for one moment she would be willing to teach him to play a musical instrument, he would have snatched up the nearest one and declared a lifelong desire to play it. “I have a niece—a delightful, somewhat precocious, tenderhearted girl of eight—who harbors a deep love of music. She has begun to learn the pianoforte, but her parents have discovered her governess—a paragon in all other respects—is dreadful as a music instructor.”

“And her parents wish to ask me?” She seemed both flattered and confused.

“I told them of your performance last evening, of your impeccable manners, how highly the headmistress here speaks of your abilities as a teacher—”

She colored up beautifully. How could he have helped but fall top-over-tail in love with her? She was as lovely a person inside as out.

“They hope that, perhaps, you have the time and inclination to add our little Eloise to your list of students.”

“Oh, Mr. Darby. You are too kind.” She entwined her fingers, clutching her hands too tightly to fully hide her nervousness. “I fear they will be sorely disappointed when they actually make my acquaintance.”

“No one who has ever met you could possibly be disappointed.”

Her smiled warmed and softened. “I would have to ask Miss Black if it would be possible for me to accept your offer. But if she will permit it, I think I would enjoy that.”

“You will love Eloise,” he said. “She is an angel.”

“How soon would your . . . brother—” She tilted her head in a question.

He nodded.

“—need an answer?”

“Whenever you have one for him,” he said.

Another gentleman arrived, intent on being granted Ana’s time and attention. The other teachers had their visitors as well. Hollis sat among them all, listening to the general conversation and feeling rather like a one-legged horse in a race. He reminded himself what a lucky cove he was to simply be with her again—twice in two days, in fact.

On the side table near Ana, peeking out from underneath a shawl he knew to be hers, was the familiar teal cover of Mr. King’s latest offering. She had already indicated she read and enjoyed the penny dreadfuls.

Perhaps if she enjoyed Mr. King’s stories as much as she appeared to, there was some hope that his clandestine publishing life would not meet with her disapproval.

Perhaps.

by Mr. King

Installment I,

in which our Hero enlists the help of a brave and kind Neighbor and encounters a most dire Prediction!

The grand estate of Summerworth sat nestled between a raging river and the windswept moors. Its turrets and towers loomed large, declaring to all who drew near that this was the home of a noble and exalted family. Yet, within its palatial walls, a mournful sadness wrapped ice around the heart of the only person who lived therein.

After great tragedy and heartrending loss, only Mr. Wellington Quincey remained of those who had once made their home in the splendor of Summerworth. His family had dwindled to only one; the Summerworth staff had dwindled to only two.

Wellington’s despondency had rendered the house an almost unbearably sad place to live. His sorrows were many. His companions were few.

For all his anguish, he was not an unkind gentleman. Those who knew him liked him. Many a heart ached at his suffering and isolation. His family was gone. His home was remote.

He had all but given up on finding companionship and love and a new beginning by the time he reached his twenty-fifth year. Loneliness was his lot in life, and he would endure it. But there was one thing he could not sort out. How was it an estate as far from neighbors as his, so devoid of staff and visitors, was the victim of an unending string of thefts?

Jewelry had disappeared. Silver. Paintings. Priceless heirlooms. His trusted servants hadn’t the least idea what precisely had befallen Summerworth. The missing items could not be located. No clues had been left behind. He was utterly and completely