“He sounds right jolly. Has he set his cap for you, do you think?”

She smiled, felt the heat warming her cheeks. “No, I think he’s just friendly.” Exceedingly friendly. “But I don’t want to disappoint—” Closing her eyes, she released a sigh. “It was one ball, one night.” She opened her eyes. “I’m certain in time I’ll meet some lord who will sweep me off my feet.”

“As long as you’re happy, love, that’s all that matters.”

At eight, Timmy Tubbins had an honest, but dirty face with large, guileless brown eyes that, in all of Fancy’s dealings with him, had never once not been steady as they held her gaze. Thanks to Matthew, as she examined the tattered book with several pages that had come loose of their mooring, she doubted the lad. “Where did you say you found it?”

“In Whitechapel, in the street, just lyin’ there, abandoned loike.”

“Not from a bookstall, where it could have been easily plucked from a cart or box?”

“No, Miss Trewlove. That’d be stealin’, woodn’t it? I ain’t no thief.”

He appeared truly hurt that she’d questioned the origins of his find, and she felt guilty about having done so. It was one of the better ones he’d brought to her. With a little loving care, she could restore it to its former glory, having become quite skilled at book restoration, hating the thought of the life of any tome coming to an end. “A shilling, then.”

His grin caused two large dimples to form on either side of his mouth, and she suspected it was those dimples that had her believing him. He held up a hand that was slightly grimier than his face. “Deal.”

She removed the coin from her till. Reaching into an onyx box, she retrieved a wooden token that Gillie had first begun passing around in an effort to feed those who would go without sustenance otherwise. Handing both items over to him, she suspected he’d purposely planned the timing of his arrival to ensure he had a free late midday meal that would keep his stomach from grumbling until morning. “Go to the pub and get yourself a bowl of soup.”

He doffed his flat-cap. “Thanks, miss.”

He rushed to the door, opened it, and then stepped back, holding it ajar as though he were a trained footman as three ladies walked past him, two scowling at him, while the third, Lady Penelope, reached into her reticule, pulled out a coin, and handed it to him. “Thanks, miss!”

He dashed out, slamming the door in his wake. Fancy grimaced at the sound as she moved away from the counter to greet her three new guests. “Good afternoon, Ladies Penelope, Victoria, and Alexandria. How wonderful it is to see you.”

“You still remember our names,” Lady Penelope said, smiling brightly.

“I’m not likely to forget them now. What brings you here?”