LOVE AND OTHER PERILS: A Regency Novella Duet by Grace Burrowes & Emily Larkin

Author:Grace Burrowes & Emily Larkin [Burrowes, Grace & Larkin, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grace Burrowes Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Mr. Paxton slapped the book down on Antonia’s desk loudly enough to wake the cat, who was curled in a basket beside the fireplace.

“I specifically told Mr. Kessler to locate a first edition of Richardson’s treatise,” Mr. Paxton snapped. “This is not a first edition.”

Across the reading room, the Barclay sisters peered at Antonia over their sermons. They’d intervene if she indicated a need for assistance, so she ignored them and met Mr. Paxton’s glare with a calm eye.

“This is a fourth edition, sir, though your request was made only the day before yesterday. We’ll be happy to notify you if and when a first edition arrives. You are welcome to borrow this copy until then.”

Antonia remained seated, while Mr. Paxton drew himself up, a hot air balloon of male self-importance preparing to lift into a flight of indignation. The bell on the front door tinkled and Lucifer left his basket. He greeted each patron as conscientiously as a butler would, then went back to his basket, almost as if he were expecting one caller in particular.

“What sort of librarian,” Mr. Paxton began, “cannot tell a first edition from subsequent printings? What sort of institution employs staff who cannot fulfill a simple loan request? Was I not clear that I wanted a first edition?”

He braced his hands on the desk and leaned closer. “Did I not complete your form to Mr. Kessler’s satisfaction? Did he perhaps allow Mr. Lincoln Candleford to have the first edition before I was permitted to see it? I know the library on Constable Lane has one, but it’s lent out, and they won’t tell me who has it.”

Mr. Paxton needed a closer acquaintance with several sheaves of fresh parsley. His breath reeked of the tobacco habit, which did not blend well with the excessive rose pomade in his hair.

“Libraries value the privacy of their patrons,” Antonia replied. “If Constable Lane had a first edition available to lend, I’m sure they’d have sent it around. Did you seek to research a particular topic covered by Mr. Richardson’s treatise?”

Mr. Paxton’s gaze crawled over Antonia’s feminine endowments. He might have been any one of a hundred half-drunk, blond, blue-eyed fortune hunters forgetting himself in a Mayfair ballroom, and in that setting, Antonia would have known what to do about him.

The cut direct, a raised eyebrow, a knowing glance to the chaperones waiting to pounce on a man’s reputation from among the potted ferns. He’d find himself in want of invitations for the remainder of the Season, which was a fortune hunter’s version of doom.

“Young woman, are you listening to me? Is your female brain overtaxed by a patron’s request when that request is plainly and succinctly put before you? Must I complain to Kessler about his paltry collection and his dimwitted staff?”

Antonia rose, standing eye to eye with Mr. Paxton, the desk between them. “Your request has been submitted to our sister institutions. Is your male brain too limited to grasp that Mr. Richardson’s treatise was published in

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