Without a word, he opened the door and exited her shop. She rushed after him, but by the time she’d made it out onto the pavement, he’d disappeared, leaving her to wonder if he hadn’t been a mirage. But when she returned to the counter, the package was still there. Tugging on the bow, she loosened the string and parted it, then carefully removed the paper to reveal an oversize leather book, well preserved but obviously quite old. She lifted the note resting on it, deeply touched by the inscribed words written by a meticulous hand.

“Well, you’ve certainly been brought to the right place,” she whispered, gingerly turning back the cover. As her gaze fell on the title, she released an audible gasp and pressed her hand to her mouth. This rare edition had to be worth a fortune.

“Are you well, Miss Trewlove?”

She lifted her gaze to the two young women who’d been browsing. They looked enough alike to be sisters. One was a frequent visitor. The other had never been in her shop before. “Yes, I’m quite well. Thank you for inquiring. Have you found something to your liking, Miss Sear?”

“Indeed. My sister and I are going to take Lorna Doone.” She placed the book on the counter. Originally the story had come out in three volumes, but its popularity had grown after it was released in a single, fairly inexpensive edition.

“I think you’ll enjoy it very much.”

“I don’t see how we can’t, not if it’s as romantic as claimed.”

“We so enjoy romance,” the second Miss Sear said.

“They’re my favorite as well.”

Once they’d completed the transaction and left the store, Fancy turned her attention back to Shakespeare. She couldn’t fathom who would send her such a treasure. With a great deal of care, she carried it into her office and set it on the desk.

Strange how her first thought was to find Mr. Sommersby and tell him about it. She had no doubt he would be as in awe of it as she was.

Throughout the day, she periodically popped into her office just to look at it, touch her fingers to the nearly pristine leather of the cover. Had it ever been read, or had it simply served as a prize, something to possess in order to boast about having? Now it was hers, but for what purpose?

All afternoon she pondered its arrival. After locking up, she carried thoughts of it to the pub with her, anxious to share the news of it with Mr. Sommersby. When she didn’t see hide nor hair of him, she sat at a table near the window, positioning herself so she had a clear view of the door, intent on catching his attention when he walked in.

Only he never did.

“As you can well imagine, I’m the most popular lady in London at the moment.”