by Tarah Scott
“No, Miss. I mean, are you sure you want to go there? Ladies do not generally shop at a gentleman’s clothing store,” he said.
“How silly,” she said. “If you do not know where a shop is, I’m sure I can get the direction from a passerby.”
“Nae,” he hurriedly replied. “In fact, I know the shop where his lordship gets his cravats.”
“Perfect,’ Jeanine cried. “Where is it?”
He exchanged a look with the footman, who shrugged, then said, “It isn’t far. I will take you and Miss Stone.”
“It’s too beautiful a day to ride. We will walk. Just direct us, please.”
His eyes widened in horror. “I cannae let you walk alone.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Where is the shop?”
He shook his head stubbornly. “His lordship will dismiss me if I let you walk alone—after he beat me, that is.”
“Mr. Potts is right,” Miss Stone said. “If you are set on walking, our footman should accompany us.”
Jeanine smiled. “How clever of you.”
The driver finally gave them directions, but said he would follow with the carriage so that he could take them home from the shop. They reached the shop in ten minutes and entered. To the left, two brown leather chairs resided near the window, separated by a table that held a tray containing a decanter of amber liquid and four glasses. To the right, shelves displayed cravats, hats, and other sundry man’s articles in a multitude of colors.
A tall, wiry man, writing in a ledger, stood behind the long counter at the far end of the shop. He looked up and frowned. “May I help you?”
Jeanine crossed to the counter with Miss Stone alongside, and said, “We are looking for a cravat.”
His frown deepened. “Are you sure you’re in the right shop?”
“You do sell cravats,” Jeanine said. “I see lots there on the shelves.”
The man stiffened. “We sell gentlemen’s cravats.”
“I beg your pardon?” Miss Stone said. “A gentleman’s cravat is exactly what Miss Matheson is looking for. She is shopping for the Marquess of Northington.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “His lordship does buy his cravats here. But I feel certain you have the wrong shop. Ladies who purchase cravats—”
“This lady is Lord Northington’s ward,” Miss Stone cut in.
The man blinked in surprise, then his mouth thinned. “His lordship sends me an order when he desires more cravats. He does not send his ward to purchase them for him.”
“You misunderstand,” Jeanine said. “Gre-er, his lordship did not send me. I am buying him a gift.”
“I believe I understand perfectly well, Miss.”
“I am certain you do not,” Miss Stone said in a chilly voice that startled Jeanine. “His lordship will not be pleased to hear that the man who sells him his cravats was so shockingly rude to his ward.” She looked down her nose at him and waited.
Fifteen minutes later, they left the shop with a lovely ivory cravat, along with a dusky blue cravat, purchased at Miss Stone’s suggestion. She said the color would complement Grey’s dark eyes, and Jeanine was certain she was right. Their carriage sat in front of the shop with Mr. Potts in the driver seat and the footman waiting at the door. He opened the door as they approached, but Jeanine slowed at sight of another shop across the street. A sign over the door read Branby’s Furniture and in the window were displayed chairs and tables.
“There’s a shop across the street I would like to look at,” Jeanine said, and started toward the street.
“Miss,” Mr. Potts cried, “I must object. His lordship would not want you going about the city unescorted.”
“Then we are in no danger of upsetting him.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Miss Stone accompanies me, and you and Mr. McKinnon are only a few steps away.”
Mr. Potts leapt from his perch and hurried to the curb as Jeanine and Miss Stone crossed the street. They reached the shop and entered. The room was nicely furnished with two chairs, a couch, two tables with lamps, and a sideboard that bore a crystal decanter and half a dozen tumblers.
A stalky man emerged from a curtained door behind a counter in the far left-hand corner of the room and halted. “May I help you?”
“I was hoping to purchase a table for Lord Northington,” Jeanine said
The man frowned. “The Marquess of Northington?”
She nodded. “But it seems you don’t have what I want.”
The shopkeeper drew himself up. “My shop carries only the highest quality furniture. Perhaps something on Glenmore Street would be more to your taste.”
“Miss Matheson is the Marquess of Northington’s ward,” Miss Stone said. “She does not shop on Glenmore Street.”
The man frowned. “I hadn’t heard he took a ward.”
“He has,” Miss Stone said in a chilly voice. “In fact, he’s throwing a ball in her honor this very evening.”
The man’s head snapped in Jeanine’s direction.
She nodded enthusiastically. “Perhaps you would like to come.”
His eyes widened.
“I’m not certain his lordship would be pleased,” Miss Stone said.
“He said I could invite guests,” Jeanine said.
“He said you could invite friends from Lady Paddington’s School for Young Ladies,” Miss Stone pointed out.
Jeanine waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, pooh. It makes no difference.” She smiled at the shopkeeper. “Surely, you would like to come? You know where we live, of course.”
The man remained mute, but shook his head.
“Never mind,” she said. “I can write it down for you. Oh, it is a shame you don’t have a game table. You see, he had a game table, but it was broken, and it is my fault because Mrs. McPhee and the deliveryman got into a row.”
“A row?” the man repeated.
She nodded. “Mrs. McPhee was angry with the deliveryman because she was certain he was trying to cheat Grey. I like Mrs. McPhee, but I think it was just a mistake. The deliveryman delivered too many vegetables--according to Mrs. McPhee, you understand. Gr-er, his lordship said he didn’t think they were enough vegetables. They had a terrible disagreement and Mrs. McPhee punched him in the jaw.”
“Punched him in the jaw?” the man mimicked.
“Exactly,” Jeanine said. “Mrs. McPhee uses her right hand to knead dough, which means she is very strong. I think that is very fortunate, for a woman must be able to defend herself. Don’t you agree?” She smiled before he could answer, and added, “Of course you do. When Mrs. McPhee punched the deliveryman, he crashed into the marquess’s game table. So, if not for the fact that he was throwing this party in my honor, the deliveryman would never have come, and he and Mrs. McPhee would never have been fighting, and the table wouldn’t have been broken. That makes it my fault. He didn’t complain—the marquess, I mean—but he wouldn’t, for his manners are too good.” She slanted a glance at Miss Stone. “Isn’t that so, Miss Stone?”
“Indeed, it is,” she replied.
“There you are,” Jeanine said. “The table was a very nice table, so it is only fair I should replace it.” She sighed. “I do wish you had one.”
The shopkeeper blinked. “But I do have one.”
“You do?” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
The man looked helplessly at Miss Stone, who shrugged. He sighed in obvious resignation and said, “If you will follow me, please,” then turned.
He led them through the curtained door into a large storeroom crammed full of furniture. They weaved through the cramped rows and she spotted the game table beside a hideous green divan. When they reached the table, Jeanine knew it was exactly what she’d been looking for. The black and white checkered marble top was flawless. The dark wood, cherrywood, she guessed, perfectly complemented the marble. A drawer on the left side might hold cards and chess pieces while a lower shelf provided extra storage.
“It’s beautiful,�
� she breathed. “Do you like it, Miss Stone?”
“I believe his lordship will be very pleased,” she said.
Jeanine looked at the shopkeeper. “Can you deliver it today, please?”
“Today? I would have to get a deliveryman.”
Jeanine laughed. “Just be careful to bring only the table, or Mrs. McPhee is liable to punch him.” The man’s eyes widened, and Jeanine added, “No need to worry. I’ll make sure she understands the table is to be delivered. Please say you can do it today. It would be a great favor, as the ball is this evening and I so want to surprise him beforehand. I must give you the address. That way you will know where to come to the party tonight.”
“I am certain the Marquess of Northington would not include me on his guest list,” the shopkeeper said.
“Why not? The party begins at eight. No one arrives at eight, I think—if they want to be fashionable, that is. But, of course, you know that.” She smiled again and wondered why the shopkeeper had gone pale.
Chapter Eight
“You are so clever to suggest a walk in the park.” Jeanine turned her face to the sun and slowed her walk alongside Lady Guilford. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the soft warmth that seemed to penetrate her bones. “I believe I was driving poor Miss Stone to distraction looking for something to do. She must be glad for a little time away from me.”
“Walking is very good for the constitution,” Lady Guilford said.
Jeanine opened her eyes in time to avoid a large bump in the path. “My mother often walks the path from our house to town,” she said.
“Where is your town?” Lady Guilford asked.
“Perth.”
A young couple passed them. Lady Guilford acknowledged them with a graceful cant of her head and they responded in kind. “Your mother allowed you to come to Edinburgh alone?” she asked when they’d passed the man and woman.
Jeanine shook her head. “Joshua brought me—well, he and my youngest sister and her husband. I suppose that means Rebecca and her husband are who brought me. Though it was Joshua’s wagon and he drove.”
“Who, pray tell, is Joshua?” asked Lady Guilford.
Jeanine spotted a butterfly hovering over a patch of lush heather, just off the path. “A lad I grew up with,” she said as they approached, and the butterfly flitted away.
Lady Guilford cast her a sideways glance. “It was kind of this childhood friend to bring you all the way to Edinburgh.”
“He is kind that way.”
“I see. Will he take you back home?”
Jeanine looked sharply at her. “I don’t plan to return. Grey promised to help me find an elderly husband.”
Lady Guilford raised brow. “An elderly husband?”
Jeanine nodded. “Aye. I plan to use his money to open a school like Lady Peddington’s.”
Behind them, a creak of wheels approached and a phaeton passed them on a coach path to their left.
“I suppose Joshua doesn’t approve of the idea of you running a ladies’ school,” Lady Guilford said.
Jeanine made a face. “Not in the least. He believes ladies should stay at home to cook, clean, and have their husband’s children.”
“He could not have been happy you preferred Edinburgh to marrying him.”
“He wasn’t at all pleased.” Jeanine caught herself and frowned. “You tricked me. That was unkind of you.”
“Not at all,” Lady Guilford replied. “Is there some reason you would want to keep secret the fact that you have an admirer?”
“Nae,” Jeanine hedged.
Lady Guilford gave her a penetrating stare and waited.
Jeanine relaxed. “It’s just that if I don’t find a gentleman to marry then I will have to return home and marry Joshua. I would be stuck in his cottage all day with a dozen of his children.”
“Perhaps not a dozen,” Lady Guilford said with a half-smile.
“One is too many,” Jeanine said.
Lady Guilford sidestepped a rock. “Do you not want children?”
“They are a great deal of trouble,” Jeanine said. “Do you have children?”
“Nae.”
“There you go. You understand.”
Lady Guilford nodded, but something in the slight downturn of her mouth gave Jeanine pause.
“Surely, there are men to choose from other than Joshua,” Lady Guilford said. “You are young. Go home and let the young men court you.”
Jeanine shook her head. “Oh, I can never return home,” Jeanine replied. “My mother has remarried.”
“Your mother has remarried,” Lady Guilford began, then broke off when a man turned onto the path up ahead.
He neared. Something about him seemed familiar. Lady Guilford whispered unintelligible words under her breath. In the next instant, Jeanine recognized Lord Gordon. He lifted a hand and waved, then called out to them as he quickened his step.
He reached them, and they were forced to stop when he halted and bowed. “Lady Guilford, what a pleasure to see you.”
“Lord Gordon,” she replied in a cool voice.
He seemed not to notice, and looked at Jeanine. “A pleasure to see you, Miss Matheson. I did not know you liked to walk.”
Jeanine followed Lady Guilford’s example and replied in an aloof tone, “Of course, everyone likes to walk.”
He smiled. “Quite right. May I have the pleasure of your company for the remainder of your stroll?” The question seemed directed at Jeanine, which struck her as rude, for he should have addressed Lady Guilford.
“We will be returning home soon,” Lady Guilford said.
“It would be a pleasure to accompany you however far you go,” he said, clearly oblivious to her reticence.
To Jeanine’s surprise, he stepped to her right and winged an arm toward her. Jeanine looked at Lady Guilford for approval. She gave a curt nod and Jeanine wondered if she’d done something wrong, but slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.
“How is Lord Guilford, my lady?” he asked, and covered Jeanine’s hand with his as they started forward.
“Quite well, thank you,” she said.
Jeanine resisted the urge to pull her hand free of his as he prattled on about the weather, how lovely they both looked, and confirmed that they remained in good health.
“You must be terribly busy with plans for the ball your cousin is hosting tonight, Lady Guilford.”
She gave a careless laugh. “No more than usual.”
“I do believe all of Edinburgh is talking about the party,” he said.
“It will likely be the ball of the season,” she replied casually.
“With you at the helm, success is assured,” he said. “Miss Matheson, you must be looking forward to this evening.”
“Oh yes. I don’t think I have ever attended a ball quite so large. Grey says at least three hundred people should attend. I’m not sure his ballroom will hold that many.”
Lady Guilford shot her a warning look, and said, “Of course, it will.”
A carriage rattled past followed by two men on horseback.
“It is certainly larger than any ball I have attended,” Lord Gordon said.
“I cannot believe Gre—”
Lady Guilford looked sharply at her.
Jeanine realized her mistake, and amended, “—his lordship knows so many people.”
“He is the Marquess of Northington and 6th Earl of Edmonds,” Lord Gordon said. “He knows everyone.”
“He is an earl, as well as a marquess?” Jeanine laughed. “I didn’t know that.”
They came to a Y in the path. Left, led to town. To the right, their carriage waited at the edge of the trees up ahead. They angled right. As they approached the carriage, the driver opened the door and stood aside.
Lord Gordon helped Lady Guilford into the carriage, then Jeanine. He grasped the door, then hesitated and said, “Forgive me for being forward, Miss Matheson, but I hope that I might call on you sometime soon at Finley Hall.”
“You would have to speak with Valan about that,” Lady Guilford interjected. “The ball is tonight, so he is busy, of course, and I believe he has business through next week.”
His face fell, and he said in such a forlorn voice, “Of course,” that Jeanine said, “We will see you at the ball?”
Hope lit his expression, and she was relieved when he looked to Lady Guilford for confirmation.
“Of course, you are coming,” she said, but her words lacked warmth.
He beamed. “Most kind of you. I wouldn’t think of missing it. Until tonight.”
He closed the door and Lady Guilford stared out the window as the carriage rolled past the trees. They reached the street and the silence closed in on Jeanine.
“I have done something wrong, haven’t I?” she said.
Lady Guilford looked at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“I know that I forget to call Grey ‘his lordship’ when we are in public. He told me I must do so, but his name is out of my mouth before I realize it. I am sorry. I know it’s very improper.”
“You must try to remember. Valan does not want any scandal associated with you.”
“Why would there be scandal associated with me?”
Lady Guilford hesitated. “There won’t be, so long as you conduct yourself appropriately.”
Jeanine regarded her. “You don’t like Lord Gordon very much. I don’t think Grey likes him, either. I must admit, he can be annoying.”
“He is much more than annoying,” Lady Guilford said under her breath.
“Why do you think he asked to call on me?” Jeanine asked.
Lady Guilford snorted. “Because he cannot countenance Valan having something he does not.”
Jeanine frowned. “You mean me.”
Startlement crossed Lady Guilford’s face. “Put my words out of your mind. I am talking out of place. Something Valan will not quickly forgive.”
“I don’t have to tell him that you said that. Not that is matters,” Jeanine added. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Then there is no harm done,” she replied. “Let’s not mention it again.”
“If you say so,” Jeanine said, but she couldn’t help thinking harm had been done.
