“I’m helplessly attracted to the outrageously frumpish,” he reminded her. “You may recall a certain moment last night, when my fingers—”
“Misdirection,” she interrupted as her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. “My freedoms multiply exponentially when I’m all but invisible to the naked eye.”
He suspected she’d used the wordnakedto distract him from this line of talk, but her words had sparked a glimmer of an idea.
Obviously he could not court Diana as shecurrentlywas. The moment her double life was revealed, the scandal would ruin her as well as destroy the reputation he was trying to build in Parliament. But talking her out of conducting her covert investigations would take some time.
Superficially, on the other hand… If Diana knew half as much about fashion as she did weights and measures, she couldlookthe part of a duchess within the space of a single afternoon.
Or a single morning. He glanced at the clock upon the mantel. Half past nine. Had he really brought ale to a young lady’s doorstep at half past nine in the morning?
“What time will Thaddeus awake?” he asked instead.
“Noon, on occasion.” She tilted her head. “Closer to one o’clock, most of the time. Why?”
He rose to his feet. “Summon your coat. We’re going shopping.”
In fact, this was the perfect time to do so. Like Thaddeus, most of the ton would be fast asleep. They could be to the linen draper and back without anyone being the wiser.
All the same, he fetched the maid from the adjacent parlor. Heprobablywouldn’t maul Diana Middleton with kisses in the middle of a draper’s shop, but chaperonage was never a bad idea.
“Broomall’s on Bond Street,” he instructed his driver.
Hecouldhave let the ladies have the forward-facing seat while he rode backward, but since no one could see inside the coach—and they were properly chaperoned this time—sitting hip-to-hip for a short mile wasn’t bending much of a rule.
“I thought you hated shopping,” Diana said once the carriage was underway.
Cole blinked in surprise. “I do hate shopping.”
But this was different. It wasn’t forhim. At least, only indirectly. The only way he could remain respectable and keep seeing Diana was to make her equally respectable. Or at least look the part. He didn’t face such an outing with dread, but rather with excitement.
How would she look, when clothed in the latest fashions? Who cared about fashion—how would she look with colorful flourishes, instead of unrelenting gray or dull fabrics that blended with the wallpaper?
Cole belatedly realized Diana must have an entire journal dedicated to the wall-coverings of the members of the ton, in order to disappear into the background everywhere she went.
“What color are the walls in the Riddings’ drawing room?” he asked.
“Blue-gray damask coupled with oak wainscoting in the primary parlor, pale green paper flocked with olive in the side parlor.” She frowned. “Are we shopping for wallpaper?”
“Never again,” he assured her as the coach drew to a stop.
The coachman swung open the door and handed the women out of the carriage.
Cole bounded out behind them.
He didn’t know much about fabrics and fripperies, but his sister was always going on about Broomall’s, so he imagined that was as good a place as any to start. Endless rows of rolled cloths filled the labyrinthine interior.
A bright-eyed attendant rushed over to greet them.
Alarmed, Cole dropped his head to Diana’s ear. “You weren’t just here dressed as a measures maid, were you?”
“No consumables in this shop,” she whispered back. “My current focus is products sold by wet or dry weight.”
They were safe. In relief, Cole handed a card to the attendant. “We’ll take anything the lady wants.”
The attendant pressed the card to his chest. “Anythingthe lady wants?”
“Anything at all?” Diana echoed, her eyes suspiciously merry.
