One Thing Leads to a Lover (Love and Let Spy #2) - Susanna Craig Page 0,66
and said her package had got mixed up with another customer’s. She’d brought home some rare book that belonged to someone else, and could he have it back, please?”
“And you saw this exchange?”
“Well, overheard it, really. Pip and I were in the library. I wasn’t trying to listen,” he insisted earnestly. “Anyway, Uncle George—Lord Dulsworthy, I should say—was there too, and he told the man to come back another time. And then that afternoon, when we were all sitting down for tea, Mrs. Hepplewythe, our housekeeper, brought in a cookbook and said it was French and no good—it was the book Mama was to have returned to the bookshop, as it turned out—and so Lord Dulsworthy took it and said he would see to the matter. But”—Jamie sent the package a wary glance—“he didn’t.”
Langley toyed with a loose end of the twine that held the wrappings in place, trying to sort his thoughts. “Surely that’s why Lord Dulsworthy had the book in his carriage? To return it?”
The boy gave an uncertain nod. “That what I thought at first too, sir. Or that he’d meant to do it, but forgot. It had slid quite far underneath the seat. I picked it up and started to ask him, and that’s when I happened to notice the direction written on the wrappings. I—I’m quite sure the man said he came from Porter’s.”
With his thumb, Langley lifted the package and flipped it over onto his palm, displaying an unfamiliar name and address, scrawled across the paper in what he could only assume to be Dulsworthy’s hand.
“A strange affair, certainly.”
“I don’t want Mama to get in trouble. The man from the shop said it’s worth a lot of money. Uncle George shouldn’t’ve…” As the words trailed off, he shook his head, his gaze distant, as if envisioning his guardian’s displeasure when he discovered the book missing. “Anyway, now I’ve got it, but I don’t know what I should do with it,” he finished simply, bringing his eyes back to the table, looking first at the book, and then at Langley. “Can you help?”
Langley still wasn’t sure whether it would be fair to say that Jamie trusted him. But the boy’s distrust of Dulsworthy was palpable—and evidently, not misplaced. Could the man somehow have discovered the true value of what he’d had in his possession?
“Would you like me to see that it gets where it belongs?”
Jamie hesitated. “Will you tell Mama?”
“Are you worried she will be unhappy with you for taking it?”
He shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes. “She would be more unhappy to know Uncle George didn’t keep his promise.”
The boy’s heartfelt impulse—instinct, perhaps; Langley hadn’t any experience with the matter—to protect his mother from a scoundrel skewered through him like an expertly wielded lance. Christ. He needed to get out of this house before he did any more damage.
And the book in his hand was his ticket back to the world in which he belonged.
His grip on it tightened almost convulsively. The movement caught Jamie’s eye. Again the lad hesitated. Then, “Yes. You take it, sir.” As if relieved of a burden, he shoved away from the table and leaped to his feet. “Mama will be wondering where I am.”
“You wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”
A quick nod, another glance at the book. “Thank you, sir.”
“Of course.”
He had every intention of letting the boy go. He had work to do, now. But while Jamie was still on the stairs, some contrary urge made Langley call after him to ask, “Did you see the man from the bookshop? When he was here, I mean.”
Jamie turned, a frown notched into the space between his eyes at the unexpected question. “Only a glimpse, sir. He was a dark-haired, older fellow. Like yourself,” he added, studying Langley’s face, his brow still furrowed. “Only not so tall. And no spectacles.”
“Good to know.” Langley managed a crisp nod, then gestured with the book. “I want to make sure it gets into the right hands.”
Jamie turned toward the stairs, then paused again. “Are you sure you won’t join us for luncheon, sir?”
“No, thank you, Jamie. I’ve a Latin lesson to prepare, remember?”
Another quick nod of understanding and the boy was gone.
Langley sat at the table and marveled at the object in his hand, at his fortune. He’d imagined quite another outcome. He’d expected his stay at Bartlett House to go on much longer.