Her shop had been open for a little over a year now, and business was slowly increasing, thanks in no small part to her brother Mick’s rejuvenation of this area of London. A few years earlier, he’d torn down the dilapidated ruins he’d purchased and replaced them with sturdily built brick buildings. Shops lined either side of the street. On the corner across from hers—and taking up quite a bit of the area—was Mick’s crowning achievement, his grand hotel that bore the Trewlove name. While he’d not wanted to see her working, had preferred she spend her time preparing for her entry into Society, she’d managed to convince him to allow her to use one of his smaller buildings as a bookshop. All her siblings had met with varying degrees of success, and she’d wanted to do her part to make a difference, not only in her life and for her family but in the lives of others.

Walking back to the counter, she smiled as her cat leapt onto it, stretched languidly, and glared at her through green eyes. She ran her fingers through his thick fur, as white as pristine snow. He’d been scrawny and practically furless—what little bit remained in his possession had been matted—when she found him in the mews, bound up like a sausage. If she ever discovered who’d abandoned him there like that, she’d give the tosser cause for regret. It had taken a while to earn the cat’s trust. “Jealous, Dickens? His eyes were a far richer shade than yours, but you’re still my favorite fellow.”

He merely purred in response and began licking his paw.

Picking up her till, she popped into her small office, crossed over to a painting of a woman poised on a ladder while reaching for a book, and took it down to reveal the safe securely tucked away behind it. Tugging free the chain hidden beneath her collar, she pulled forth the key and inserted it into the lock, always feeling a bit mysterious that she had a place in which to secret things away. After swinging open the door, she tucked the till inside and then relocked the safe. The painting went back onto its spot on the wall, and she stuffed the key behind her bodice.

That chore taken care of, she snatched up her small flower-adorned hat, moved over to the oval mirror hanging on the wall, and positioned the brim just so, giving her a rather sophisticated air. From her siblings, she’d learned how she presented herself should reflect all she hoped to attain. “Half the trick is leading people to believe you’ve met with success,” Mick had told her the day she opened the shop.