He wasn’t certain he’d ever met anyone as small of stature as she was who still managed to project such a large presence. The Queen perhaps. The moment he’d walked into the shop, Miss Trewlove had caught his attention without artifice or fawning or inuendo. She’d merely welcomed him with a warm smile and a sultry voice that had caused him to recheck his surroundings to ensure he’d entered a bookshop and not a brothel. His mind had filled with images of that voice lowered into a rasp as she whispered wicked suggestions in his ear. He had no idea why he’d reacted to her as he had. Most certainly she was a beautiful woman with her high cheekbones, delicate square jaw, and inviting brown eyes, but her attraction had more to do with her confidence and bearing.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, at least not once he realized she was a Trewlove. In spite of their humble origins, they were making their mark on Society—Mick Trewlove especially with his tearing down of what had been left to rot and replacing it with buildings in which merchants and residents could take pride. It was one of the reasons Matthew had decided to lease a terrace house here. It was modern and clean, while the area itself provided a good many amenities.

“Why a bookshop?” he asked.

The smile she bestowed upon him seemed to encompass every aspect of her, to reveal her very soul. “The simple answer is that I love stories, but there’s more to it than that. My siblings are all quite a bit older than I am. My mother sent them to a nearby ragged school. It cost her nothing as the schools are free, funded by the generosity of others. Lessons were only given in the morning, and they were only allowed to attend until they were eleven, so all that was over by the time I came around. But they learned to read, you see, and after that there was no stopping them.”

The fire in her voice, her expression, held him captivated. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt passionate about anything.