Chapter Fourteen
Edward strode along Piccadilly on his way to confront Chérie’s publisher, but instead of hailing a hackney, he allowed himself to be diverted by Hatchards. Inside was the scent of leather and paper and ink. The shelves were crammed with volumes of history and philosophy, poetry and travel—and novels.
Edward selected Sense and Sensibility, and three recently released novels. “Deliver these to my rooms.” He handed the salesman his card.
“Of course, sir.” The salesman’s polite smile froze as he took in the scars. He hastily averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “Uh . . . delivery. Yes, sir.”
Back out on Piccadilly, Edward hailed a hackney. “Holywell Street.” But as he climbed into the carriage, he changed his mind. “But first, take me past Grafton House.”
He’d never s
