He then inspected an embroidered handkerchief, but Sarah told him she could make one finer for a fraction of the price.
Sarah hesitated at a selection of embroidered dancing slippers. “These are lovely. And I recall you saying Effie likes to dance.”
“Aye. She’s a bit young to attend formal balls, but she loves to dance at neighbors’ parties orcèilidhs.”
Sarah tried the foreign word, “‘Kay-lees.’”
He nodded. “Although Effie is often mortified by all my boisterous stomping and whooping.”
“In that case, should we avoid dancing at our Twelfth Night party?”
“Not on my account. I wouldna suspend your pleasure for worlds.”
“It’s Georgie who requested dancing. And I’m determined to give her a festive Christmastide if it kills me.”
It was his turn to chuckle. “Now that I wouldna like.”
They continued through town, looking in windows at displays of elaborately decorated Twelfth Night cakes, star-shaped iced biscuits, and other pastries at the bakery, and every sweet dainty imaginable at the confectioner’s. They stopped at a jeweler’s and admired the gold chains, earrings, brooches, and rosewood jewelry boxes on offer.
“I know she already has her mother’s necklace and earrings,” Sarah began. “But perhaps something simpler for daily wear like this gold cross or this one of amber?”
He bent to look closer. “Both are nice. Which do ye prefer?”
“I like the simple gold cross, but I don’t know that Effie would share my taste.”
“I shall give it some thought before I decide.”
In the stationer’s they looked at embossed writing paper, memorandum books, ink, and other supplies.
He picked up a penknife.
Sarah shook her head and gently took it from him, returning it to the shelf. “Too practical.”
They stopped next at the Nicholls lace shop. They looked at the finished articles of lace in the display window, including collars, fichus, and handkerchiefs edged in queen shell lace.
“Devonshire is famous for its lace, but I suppose it’s a bit dear.”
“Lovely work, though I wonder if Effie is old enough to appreciate all the fine skill and time that goes into making something like that.”
They moved on. Passing a secondhand shop, Sarah spied a tambourine in the window. “I don’t suppose Effie would like that?”
“She might indeed.” He grinned. “But would the rest of us like the clatter?”
“Good point.”
In the end, he purchased a plain pair of dancing slippers that Sarah assured him she could embroider by Twelfth Night.
“With everything else ye have to do?”
“It will be my pleasure.”
“In that case, may I treat you to some refreshment? Georgiana and Effie tell me the cakes at the York Hotel are excellent.”
“I am not hungry, but tea sounds heavenly. Thank you.”
When they reached the hotel, a waiter seated them and took their order. While they awaited their tea, Sarah realized a few of her female acquaintances were there and watching them with interest. And one, Mrs. Robins, with disapproval.
They were doing nothing untoward, Sarah reminded herself. A public place. A family friend... And as she and Mr. Henshall began relishing their tea and conversation, Sarah forgot to care about what anyone else might think.
