“Blast it, Suzannah. Do not cry or I shall send you home.”
Suzannah’s eyes flashed. “You cannot expect me to forget that you were nearly killed because of me.”
With a frustrated growl, he tapped his cane on the floor. “I do expect you to forget it, because I will not suffer your tears. If Kit sees you with red eyes, he will thrash me.”
“Nonsense. He will embrace you for saving me.”
Meredith was clearly confused, but he was in no mood to explain himself.
“Shall we go?” he said a little too curtly.
“Meredith, if you live with Darius, you shall have to accustom yourself to the fact that Darius does not like to make women cry, even if he did save their lives.”
Meredith’s face reddened at being caught in the middle of this argument. Darius glowered at Suzannah, then gestured for them to proceed ahead of him to the waiting coach.
“Will you tell me what happened?” Meredith whispered to Suzannah.
“I was shot and stabbed,” Darius cut in, “neither of which affected my hearing. The bullet tore through my shoulder. The knife pierced my abdomen. I was protecting Suzannah from Kit’s enemies. And I would do it again, so she should save her blasted tears,” he said roughly.
“And he is simply wonderful for saving me,” Suzannah added to Meredith with a knowing look. “Even if he pretends to be a bit beastly about it.”
“I am not pretending.”
That was the end of the matter, thankfully. Suzannah dried her eyes and spoke to Meredith about wardrobe possibilities while Darius sat wondering how he felt like he lost a battle that he didn’t even know he’d been fighting. By the time they arrived at the first stop on Bond Street, carriages crowded the street and the press of shoppers made Darius’s head ache.
He held up a hand as he got out of the coach first. “Just a moment, ladies.”
Several gentleman lounged idly by the doors of the shops, their eyes keenly searching for young ladies. But so long as Darius was there, they would not speak a word to Suzannah or Meredith. The sidewalk was full of fashionably attired ladies, smartly dressed gentleman, and footmen who rushed after their masters and ladies, laden with parcels and hatboxes.
“Suzannah, you shall go first.” Darius assisted her out and one of his footmen followed Suzannah into the nearest linen-draper shop. Then Darius turned to help Meredith out of the coach. He grasped her by the waist, bringing her close to him so she avoided any dirt near the curb of the street. Her breath caught, and he was dazzled for a moment by the bloom of fresh color in her cheeks.
“Th—thank you,” she whispered as she lifted her lashes. Her hazel eyes banished the world around them so that only she existed. “Please don’t be cross with Suzannah. You are a hero. You saved her. Any woman would feel deeply grateful to a man who did that.”
Her words humbled him. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I do not wish to see a lady cry,” he said quite honestly. “Any lady.”
“She’s right,” Meredith added softly. “You are rather wonderful.”
He nearly stumbled as he started to take Meredith’s arm in his own. She thinks I’m wonderful? Damned if that didn’t make him feel as though he could conquer the world.
Uncle Ben’s words returned to him. He wanted to play the hero and had it had nearly killed him. There was no glory in such a foolish thing, seeking out trouble the way he did.
They stepped into the linen-draper shop, surrounded by bolts of brightly colored fabric. Silks, satins, muslin, and lace in dozens of color and patterns formed a vibrant display on the walls and racks. Several women were in the shop moving about excitedly, examining the colors and touching the fabrics.
Meredith joined Suzannah at the counter where bolts of bright colors like ripe peaches and brilliant summer blue skies were being paired together. Darius took in the silent stories on the faces of the customers around him. It was his habit to observe the people around him and that hadn’t changed, even during an innocent shopping trip.
An older woman covered in fine silk ordered a harried shop worker to collect dozens of fabrics. She was clearly shopping out of boredom, no doubt nearly ready to buy everything that came before her simply to pass the time.
Another woman, dressed in the height of fashion, was looking over the wares with a sigh of disinterest, as though she came here often and never found anything that inspired her.
Next he turned his gaze to a pair of women, one a rich woman of middling years and the other seemed to be of debut age. The young woman addressed the elder as her aunt whenever she spoke to her. The young lady eyed the satin wistfully, and yet uttered not a word as her aunt waxed on about avoiding the frills and silly fashions which the aunt had seen fit to wear herself,.
The last woman had a bold colored, low-necked gown. She was playfully stroking her fingers over a roll of Belgian lace. A Cyprian, or a high-class lady of the night, if he had to guess. One desiring a gentleman to come and buy some lace for her or perhaps offer her even more. He flashed a polite but cool smile at her before he rejoined his two ladies.
Suzannah was explaining to the linen-draper about Meredith’s wardrobe needs. It was going to be expensive, but Darius had over twenty-thousand pounds a year to his name and had no siblings with which to share his fortune, so he was free to spend his money as he pleased. And it pleased him well to see Meredith’s excited little gasps each time a brightly colored bolt of fabric was added to the pile on the counter for the shopkeeper to measure and cut.
After the linen-drapers they moved on to the milliner’s, where they acquired a ridiculous stack of hatboxes, and finally, the modiste. His beleaguered footman was clearly relieved to abandon the yards of fabric they’d purchased on the dressmaker’s counter.
Darius lounged on a settee facing the dressing rooms and the trio of large mirrors where Meredith was standing to be fitted. The dressmaker, seeing Darius’s coach had arrived, closed the shop for a private fitting session. It suited him well enough to have the place all to themselves. He chuckled as the modiste measured Meredith and prodded at her abundant bosom with a frown, as though wanting to find a way to squash her breasts down flat. If the woman dared to cover those magnificent breasts, she would never hear the end of it from him. Best to end this folly quickly. He waved the dressmaker over.
