“Oh yes. I’m excited for the adventure.”
Lady Winfield smiled at me, then turned to her son. “And what of you, Damon? Are you to join us at the modiste?”
“As thrilling as that sounds, I must attend to business.”
Business. I frowned. The use of the word seemed to be a man’s way of excluding female companions from conversation.
“Very good. Your father will be pleased,” Lady Winfield said, then stepped a few paces away, looking for Lady Rumford and Amelia.
Damon turned to me. “Do try not to frown, Miss Kent. I will be back at your side before you’re done selecting your fabric.”
“That is not—”
“For our charade to be effective,” he said, interrupting my protest, “we must be seen together.”
“We rode together yesterday.”
“Privately,” he said. “And while that may work for your purposes, we must be seen together publicly for our bargain to work tomyadvantage.”
Pretending to be interested in Damon in front of Ollie was one thing, but in front of Amelia? Lady Winfield? Society?Thatwas another matter entirely.
“Until later, Miss Hannah.” He touched the brim of his hat, and smiling, he walked away.
Chapter Twelve
A bell announced our arrivalas we stepped inside the modiste’s shop. Both Lady Rumford and Amelia glanced up from a bolt of fabric.
Amelia clapped her hands. “I’m so glad you’re here. You must tell me your thoughts on Mother’s beloved blue fabric.”
Lady Winfield and I walked to where they stood over two large bolts of fabric, one a lovely shade of yellow and the other the most depressing dark blue.
“You see the problem?” Amelia said.
I hesitated to nod for fear of offending Lady Rumford, but Amelia was correct; the blue print was more appropriate for mourning than attracting a mate.
Lady Rumford watched and waited as I considered my words.
“Both would look lovely on Amelia,” I said, “but the yellow fabric is my favorite.”
“You see, Mama?” Amelia said. “Imusthave the yellow for a new gown.”
Lady Rumford sniffed. “You are correct, Miss Kent. They wouldbothfavor my daughter.” And then to the modiste, she said, “We will take them both.”
“Oui, madam. An excellent choice.” The modiste’s French accent curled around each word like a puff of smoke.
Lady Rumford specified how much she required.
“Hannah,” Lady Winfield said. “Take a turn about the shop and select a fabric for your own dress. I promised to spoil you, after all.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Lady Winfield spoke first. “I have been blessed with two sons but no daughters. Please allow me this pleasure.”
“Thank you, Lady Winfield. You are so kind. I don’t even know where to start.” Mama had always selected the fabric for my dresses before she’d taken ill, and now, Nora had taken the task upon herself.
“Allow me to help?” Amelia asked.
I nodded gratefully.
With a smile, Amelia looped her arm through mine and led me away to look at fabrics on the opposite wall. “What color do you like best?” she asked.
