Layton sat in his office that evening, with only a dim light to read the book in front of him. He turned a page and sighed. He really ought to go home and see that Flora and Luke get their dinner, but somehow he felt distracted. He had been pondering over his earlier worry about Luke growing up, and why it had bothered him so much. After all, Luke was only visiting for a couple of months while the school he attended in America was shut for the summer. Watching him leave at the port had been difficult, but he and Flora had managed. Yet somehow he felt that if, or rather, when, he had to watch him leave again, it would somehow stagger him more than it had done the first time. And it was for this reason why he was sat in his office, baffled as to why he should be feeling like this. After a few minutes, he decided to give up reading the book, and snapped it shut, and began to leave for home.

He drove home carefully as twilight faded into night. There was nothing wrong with the boy growing up, of course, and he wasn't resentful of the fact. In fact, he was rather proud of the boy, and every day that pride grew and swelled inside of his heart. Flora, too, was growing into a beautiful young lady, and he was sure that he would be chasing off suitors for her affections soon.

That was when he realised, what had been bothering him. Before Luke and Flora had moved into his life, he had been a rather solitary man. All except for Claire, of course, but it doesn't do one well to linger in the past more than is necessary.

Not by choice you understand, but he had just never found a girl that captured his attention quite as much as his work. Luke had brought some much needed noise and laughter to his house, and Flora was his little princess. They were the children he never had, and filled the void an empty and lonely house created.

Pulling up in front of his modest house, he switched the engine off with a small click and rubbed a hand over his eyes, tired, and feeling annoyed and disappointed and the conclusion he had reached. The day would come, where they would embark on their own adventures, and lead their own lives. He adjusted his top hat, and wearily climbed out. Well, he would just have to enjoy the days until he would have to face his empty house, as no woman deserved a man who was constantly absorbed in his work. As much as he would like to court again, it wouldn't be fair on whoever wound up being his partner. For now, the house was full of smiles and warm light that poured through the mottled glass in the front door as he approached it.

"Professor!" Said door flew open before he reached it, and Luke raced out to greet his mentor. "You should see the pudding Flora has made! And I found a puzzle in the newspaper that –"

"Come now Luke, let's go inside where it is warm," Layton chuckled, removing his jacket. "We'll have a look at this puzzle after we eat dinner. We can't let Flora's efforts go to waste."

He ruffled Luke's hair, noting that he was still only small, and Flora wasn't much older. He had many years left before he had to face a completely empty house.

That evening, as they ate Flora's Sheppard's pie, Luke told Flora all about their visit to the book shop.

"I was rather hoping you would pick up some chocolate buttons for tonight's pudding", Flora said, disappointed that they had forgotten to run the errand that she had requested. "Instead I've had to make a cherry pie."

"I'm sure it is still lovely," The professor smiled, mouth slightly twitching. Her cooking had improved, but it was still a little rough around the edges, so to speak.

"I'm sorry Flora, we ended up reading lots of books with Miss Perritt", Luke said sheepishly. "She's brilliant at reading stories! Next time you can come along. I'm sure she'll even read one of those silly girly romances you like."

"They're not silly!" Flora blushed.

"Mind your words Luke, it is not becoming of a gentlemen," Layton warned. "Besides, you can't bother Miss Perritt too much. I'm sure she is very busy."

"But you liked her reading too, didn't you?" Luke asked, and the Professor felt any hopes of a reply slowly wither. "You were listening too. Even the fairy tales!"

Layton smiled and settled for a simple nod. He felt Flora's eyes slide over to his, a question burning on her lips. "Even the fairy tales? Wow, are you feeling alright Professor?"

"There is nothing wrong with the odd fairy tale," he defended, finding his cup of tea now infinitely more interesting.

"No, they're great!" Flora enthused. "But you're not really a fairy tale type of person, Professor."

"But she was a pretty lady." Luke added absently by way of explanation.

The Professor coughed lightly, before dabbing his mouth with his napkin, quite aware of the conclusion they were nearing at the pace of a runaway train. Luke and Flora paused as Luke's last words began to run through their minds, process and form into an idea.

"You don't think...?" Flora asked Luke.

Luke's face brightened with the biggest grin. "Does he?"

Flora giggled and the two of them faced Layton with curious, expectant expressions. The professor suddenly felt a growing sense of dread.

"You like Miss Perritt, don't you?" Luke exclaimed.

Why did these children have to be so bright?

"He's blushing!" Flora giggled, clasping her hands together. He was sure he wasn't. "He does! What is she like?"

"Now then, none of that, you have dinner to finish off. Are those vegetables I still see on your plate Flora?"

She waved him off, and turned to Luke who launched into a full description of Miss Perritt.

"She's pretty; she has curly light brown hair and smiles a lot. She's shorter than the professor, and taller than you."

"Ooh, let's go visit the store tomorrow!" Flora squealed. "I would like to meet her!"

"You two are letting your imaginations get the better of you," Layton said, looking neither of them in the eye. "A gentleman must always be polite to a lady, which is simply what I was doing."

"A gentleman needs a gentle lady," Luke muttered to Flora who couldn't keep a straight face.

"Right, I think I am just about ready for that cherry pie. Flora," The Professor said, trying to tactfully steer the conversation to a more comfortable area. He would rather suffer her cooking, than suffer their speculation.

Though, their gossip had been a rather fitting, and slightly worrying end to his ponderings earlier. He supposed his meeting with Miss Perritt had been the catalyst to his worrying, which beforehand had only been a slight twinge in the back of his mind. Now it had fully blossomed into images of himself rattling round an empty house, the table set for a solitary person, and a lone jacket and his old top hat on the coat rack rather than overflowing with scarves, hats and various jackets and coats. But somehow, when he thought of that gentle smile, however brief it had been, he could imagine dinner dates and picnics, dancing and laughter. He even allowed himself to fleetingly imagine waking up to it, edged with the lag of sleep, as her curly hair sprawled over the pillows.

He shook himself mentally. He told himself these were all dreams. But, a man could dare to dream. An even greater man can dare to make those dreams a reality.

Despite their constant pleas to visit the store again, the Professor refused to go back. That was, until the urge for a new book caught him again a week later. Yes, a new book, that was all that he wanted, and nothing else. If Miss Perritt was there, that would be purely incidental.

Luke and Flora were out for a walk, so he decided to use his time to browse for books. He thought a visit without them would be more prudent, after all, he had been known to lose himself in such establishments for hours on end, and he was prudent enough not to test their patience. His entry to the shop was accompanied by the gentle tinkle of bells.

"Good morning, welcome to Penny and Quill's – Oh, hello Professor." Miss Perritt greeted him, struggling with a stack of books.

The professor started forward to help her with the precariously balanced books, but she placed them neatly behind the counter before he could get even a step closer.

"How may I help you today?"

"How do you do Miss Perritt? I have finished my last book, and am feeling the need to pick up another book completely."

"I know the feeling," she said, resting her elbows on the counter. "I feel rather empty if I don't have something to dip into. Do feel free to have a look around. I'm sure that there is something hiding in here which is your cup of tea."

She had vanished before he could say another word. No matter, it was a new book he was in need of, and she had her shop duties to be getting on with. He quickly pushed his absent day dreams of picnics and dancing and found a book on archaeology that amazingly he had not encountered before, and began to absently flick through it. Somewhere in France there had been an interesting discovery of coins and other bits of treasure, such as an old diadem that author seemed particularly keen to write about. It had three hollows, presumably for jewels, but the jewels were missing.

It seemed as if Miss Perritt had plenty to do. The tap of her shoes as she bustled around the store seemed to snare his attention and he often found himself drifting out of the book. She passed him a few times, sometimes with a teetering stack of books, sometimes with a duster and once with her nose buried in a book which must've have caught her eye. Whenever her duties carried her past him, he caught the faint smell of vanilla and cinnamon before she vanished behind another shelf. Back to his book. The diadem was missing three jewels, which hadn't been found yet.

She started shelving a few books by his elbow, smiling apologetically for disturbing his reading. The diadem was missing three jewels. They hadn't found them yet...Miss Perritt stretched upwards, brushing his elbow as she lost her balance a little and regained it again. The diadem was missing three jewels...and they hadn't...blast it.

"Forgive me for being forward, but that perfume you are wearing is delightful."

Why did he say that? That sounded more than a little odd. He should of started with a 'how has she been faring?' or a 'this weather has been good recently'. Unsurprisingly, she jumped at his sudden voice.

"Thank you, but I'm not wearing perfume at all. With all these books, perfume normally gets drowned in that new book smell," she said by way of explanation.

Now he looked particularly odd. He tried to think of something that would hopefully sway the conversation from the realms of creepy back into normality. Back to being polite and gentlemanly. Something that would stop her looking so awkward.

"Professor?" she asked, looking puzzled at his vacant expression. Apparently, he was favouring an idiotic approach rather than his usual gentlemanly one

"So sorry miss, I find myself in my own world time to time. The new book smell is still quite a lovely smell."

"Yes, I agree", she nodded, and that lovely smile returned. Luckily, she was either finding this conversational topic far more stimulating than he originally anticipated it would be, or she was showing him a considerable amount of patience.

"So, do you work here full time miss?" Simply polite conversation. That is what a gentleman does, no?

"For the most part yes, I am hoping to get a job as a teacher soon"

"How wonderful, I assure you it is a fulfilling job. What area is it you hope to teach?"

"Well, I haven't quite decided yet. I quite like a number of things. I suppose I ought to hurry up and pick a field!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say there is such a rush. Part of the fun of growing up is finding what interests you the most. I never would have originally considered myself as Professor material, but just look at what happened." He smiled and she nodded in agreement.

"So how did you find yourself in a teaching position then?" she asked.

"Well, it is a rather long story," He replied, pausing as a idea formed in his head. He considered it for a second. "Though I would be more than happy to tell you it if you agree to allow me to take you out for dinner."

There. Now he had said it, put his small little idea into action. He shouldn't bother pretending that he had entered the shop merely for the pleasure of books.

Her reply was a round of lovely peals of laughter. He didn't know whether to feel rejected, or whether he had actually flattered her.

"I'm sure you are just humouring me!" A faint blush had tinted her cheeks, and she shifted her weight, growing uncomfortable at the idea that he may not have been entirely serious.

"Not at all Miss Perritt. I would love to accompany you to dinner."

She blinked back at him with wide, her hand curled on her chest, considering her reply. It was all he could do to offer her a smile until her face broke out into a smile that made the breath in his throat catch.

"In that case, I shall take you up on your offer, Professor."

"Marvellous", he said, hoping that he didn't look too relieved at her answer. "But may I ask you something Miss Perritt?"

"Yes?"

"It would be lovely to hear your first name."

"Oh!" she gasped, realising that she had never told him. "Well...it's Leonie."