Heiress in Red Silk, Hunter, Madeline [good beach reads TXT] 📗

“And perhaps the money lenders will give him wide berth, if it is known the family will not make good his debts,” Chase added. “It could be a blessing of sorts.”

“I don’t care if it is or it isn’t. I long ago gave up any belief that he would grow to understand that being a gentleman is not only about leisure and fashion. If my actions make him a better man, all to the good, but that is not my goal.” A scowl marred his brow again. “I will tell him to write an apology to Miss Jameson, not that I expect he will do it.”

“Someone should,” Chase said. “Whatever Minerva said last night was hardly sufficient.”

“I will,” Kevin said. “She only suffered that because she had the misfortune to attract the family’s attention due to our partnership.”

“Her inheritance would have done so without that partnership,” Chase said. “By rights, our aunt should apologize, as the hostess who had the poor judgment to inflict such a boor on the company.”

Kevin could not picture Aunt Agnes ever apologizing to anyone, least of all the daughter of a tenant farmer.

Nicholas’s expression dropped into one of resignation. “I suppose I can tell Agnes that I think that would be appropriate.”

“I don’t think a letter would influence her much,” Chase said.

“You mean I should call on her.” He shook his head. “Hell.”

* * *

Rosamund set the metal stands on the cabinet. She had bought the carved, mahogany cabinet already constructed. Far nicer than the counter she had intended to commission, it served the same purpose but appeared more impressive.

The metal stands would hold some hats and bonnets. A few more could go in the window. All she needed now were a few chairs and a small table on which to put the looking glass. Unlike the way she’d arranged her shop in Richmond, here she intended to have that out of view of other patrons, so there would be some privacy. Having her shop at street level might be a risk, so she wanted to provide a way for patrons to make purchases and have fittings without the world looking in.

She went to the window and looked out. Few people passed by at this hour, least of which the kind she wanted to attract to this shop. She did notice several women glance at her window while they passed on Oxford Street, though. Her conclusion that the shop would be visible on the cross street seemed to be correct.

She checked her pocket watch. Already quarter past nine. She hoped to keep her meeting with Kevin Radnor today, although it appeared she might be late. It all depended on when the wagon arrived.

Thinking of that meeting immediately brought Philip to mind again.

After parsing through her behavior last night, every moment of it, she could not think what she had done to invite such treatment. That didn’t lift the pressing humiliation, however. Nor wipe from her memory what Philip had done and said.

She’d been glad Kevin thrashed him. Grateful. Relieved. Perhaps that meant at least he did not think she had somehow brought that on herself, although undoubtedly his family would blame her.

She thought again of Kevin seeking her out in the shadows on the terrace. Apologizing for his cousin. Once the others were gone, her ability to stand tall and proud had left her. She felt again his arms while he comforted her. That had been the sort of thing a friend would do.

It had been more than a friend’s embrace, though. She could not lie to herself about that, although for hours last night she had tried to. Perhaps she shouldn’t have allowed it, especially after what had happened with his cousin. But instead she had welcomed it, taken comfort in it.

Suddenly, her view was blocked by wooden panels. She ran to open the door.

“Mrs. Ingram, welcome!” she called to the small, thin, gray-haired woman sitting next to the wagoner.

The wagoner jumped down, then helped Mrs. Ingram descend. Mrs. Ingram, sharp of features and sharper of eye, came forward to embrace Rosamund.

“You’ve an impressive spot here, right off a main shopping street.”

“I’ve the first story too. You can live up there if you want. Or you can live at my house.”

“Up there will suit me very well. Easier to walk to the shop, eh?” She chuckled. “Now, let me see the inside.”

The wagoner followed them into the shop, toting a large wooden box.

“I have the bonnets you asked me to bring,” Mrs. Ingram said. “They’re in that box. There’s plenty back in Richmond still. That new woman looks to know her business with a needle and such, so we won’t be running out there.”

“You are convinced Mrs. Hutton can manage the shop?” Mrs. Ingram would manage this new shop in London. That had meant finding someone suitable to take over the shop in Richmond.

“She seems more than fitting. Worked for a man in Bristol for five years who was too lazy to pay attention, so she did it all for him. At least he recognized her value and gave her a good reference that all but admitted it. I think we’ll be fine with her.” Mrs. Ingram lifted one of the iron stands and examined it. “You’ll be going to see for yourself soon enough, I expect. If you are not content with her, we will find someone else. Lots who will be glad for the situation.”

Two valises and another box were carried into the shop. Once he was gone, Mrs. Ingram opened one valise. It was full of caps.

“You didn’t ask for them, but we’ve quite a few, so I brought these. Only a few plain ones. Most are the fancy ones, with lace and such.”

“You have been thinking more clearly than me.”

“In Richmond they always paid the lease. Maybe they will here too.”

Mrs. Ingram straightened, then strolled to the back, peering around the wall.

“I’ll be needing you to go