A Meeting of Three Worlds (1870)
A Meeting of Three Worlds (1870) London, 1870—right in the heart of the Victorian era. The bell above the bookstore door gave a soft, polite chime as she stepped inside, brushing the cool air of the street from her sleeves. Adrianne adjusted her glasses slightly, her hazel-brown eyes scanning the rows of books with quiet interest. The violet of her dress stood out gently against the darker wood shelves, her black button-up boots tapping softly against the floorboards. Her reddish-brown hair—twisted neatly from the crown into a braid—rested against the back of her neck, though a few feathered strands had already slipped loose. The smell of ink and paper wrapped around her like something familiar. Safe. She turned a corner— —and walked straight into someone. Not just someone. Something solid. Unmoving. “Whoa there—” A hand caught her by the shoulders before she could stumble back. She blinked up, startled. He didn’t look like any man she had ever seen in London. Tall. Broad. Sun-worn. A
About A Meeting of Three Worlds (1870)
A Meeting of Three Worlds (1870) London, 1870—right in the heart of the Victorian era. The bell above the bookstore door gave a soft, polite chime as she stepped inside, brushing the cool air of the street from her sleeves. Adrianne adjusted her glasses slightly, her hazel-brown eyes scanning the rows of books with quiet interest. The violet of ...Read more