“What about this one?” she asked a moment later. She held up a bright shade of crimson this time.
I scrunched my nose and shook my head. The brighter shade was closer to what I wanted, but I wanted to impress Ollie, not scare him.
We searched all the red fabrics and were about to reach the orange section when a bolt of fabric caught my attention. It was almost invisible, wedged between two heavy fabrics, but I tugged free the fabric, then held it up. It was perfect!
“Amelia.” I touched her elbow, and she turned. “I think I have found it.”
“Coquelicot,” she said with a smile. “The color suits you.”
I glanced at the bright poppy-colored bolt and bit my lip. “Do you really think so?”
“Iknowso.”
The bold shade was really only appropriate for a married woman to wear, but perhaps that could work to my advantage; when Ollie looked at me, I wanted him to think ofmarriage. I would ask Lady Winfield’s opinion. Amelia and I took the fabric to the cutting table where Lady Winfield and Lady Rumford still stood with the modiste.
“Have you decided on a fabric?” Lady Winfield asked.
“I think so, but I should like to ask your opinion first.” I tentatively showed her the fabric.
Lady Winfield touched the fabric. “Your mother would have loved it, and so do I.” She took the fabric and handed it to the modiste. “You must also select some trim.”
Amelia and I walked toward the front of the store where the notions, lace, and other trim were organized.
We’d been searching through the items for a few minutes when Amelia grew bored and pushed back the curtain to gaze out the front window. “How goes your plan with Lord Jennings?” she asked.
“Damon can be rather irritating at times, but our ruse does seem to be working in regard to making Ollie jealous.”
“I believe it,” Amelia said. “But I was actually inquiring after Lord Jennings’s commitment to your deal. See there.” She indicated out the window.
I followed her gaze. Damon stood in the lane with a man whose clothes were well-worn and his grooming lacking. He did not appear Damon’s equal, yet the pair stood in the shadows, close together, conversing.
“Do you know who that man is?” I asked Amelia.
She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before.”
The man said something, articulating with one hand.
Damon nodded, then glancing around, he reached into his coat pocket. He turned his shoulder inward as if trying to hide his actions, but from my vantage point, I saw him pull out a small parcel.
The man took the bundle and pulled back the paper, revealing a tidy sum of bank notes. He hurriedly tucked the package in his own coat, then limped away, disappearing between two shops.
Damon straightened his cravat and then his cuffs, then he stepped back into the lane as if nothing nefarious had taken place.
Worry pooled in my stomach. I resumed my search for trim, but it was impossible to focus. Had Damon taken gambling too far? Was he in some sort of trouble?
“Oh dear,” Amelia said a moment later.
“What is it now?”
“See for yourself.”
I glanced out the window. Damon stood with an elegantly dressed young woman and another older woman.
“Who are they?” I asked Amelia.
“Miss Digby and her matchmaking mother.” Amelia groaned.
I squinted through the glass to get a clearer view of her. It was the same raven-haired woman Ollie danced with at the ball. I frowned. Why was Damon conversing with her?
