She turned to find a young woman in a simple dark blue dress smiling at her.“Yes, thank you.I would like to purchase a new top hat for my husband.I saw a beaver worn by a gentleman that I found to be quite fine.It is exactly the hat I want to get for my Henry.”She leaned in to speak softly to the shopgirl.“When the gentleman set it down, I peeked and saw your label stitched inside.”
The girl winked conspiratorially.“We do make the very best hats in London.Can you describe the style of the hat you admired?”
“Well, it was black silk, and perhaps this tall.”She motioned vaguely with her hands.“I think it had a brim that tipped down a bit in the front.”Elizabeth screwed up her nose.“I cannot remember exactly.And perhaps it had a ribbon around the crown.Fiddlesticks, I cannot remember, but I do know it was very handsome.”She gave the shopgirl a wide-eyed look of dismay.“Is there any way to look up the exact hat?Do you keep records of the hats you sell?”
“Yes, we do keep records of the custom-made hats.Each hat has a number assigned to it.”
“Aha, the number two twenty-three was stitched on the label!Can we look it up and have the same hat made for my Henry?”
“Let me see what I can find out.Follow me.”
Elizabeth followed the young woman through the shop to a large counter at the back end of the shop.She waited as the woman went around behind and watched carefully as she pulled a large leather volume from underneath the counter.
“Now, let’s see.”The shopgirl flipped through various pages.“If it was bought this year, it will be in this one.But if it is older, then it would take some searching to find the number.”
An older man walked up beside the shopgirl.“Anna, what are you doing?”His voice was sharp, and his brows drawn together.
“This lady saw one of our hats out and about and wanted to order the same style for her husband.I was just looking up the number so that we could see the order.”
Elizabeth sent the man a friendly smile, leaning forward slightly to see if she could glance down at the ledger.“I do so adore the work you do here.”
The scrawled text on the pages was far too small to decipher upside down.Drat.The man was not returning her smile.Instead, he turned to his coworker.“Information about customer orders is not to be shared, Miss Wellesley.”He lowered his voice to a furious whisper as he pulled the book from the counter.“These account books contain payment and accounts payable information that should not be seen by customers.”
Elizabeth averted her eyes quickly as he glanced back over his shoulder at her suspiciously.
“I’m sorry, sir.I didn’t think.”
“No, you didn’t.Now go straighten the ribbons.”
The man turned back to Elizabeth with a disapproving frown.“Ma’am.If you would like to place a custom order for a hat, we would be happy to help you.”His glance scanned her appearance from top to bottom, and he gave her a small sniff.“Do you have an account with us?”
Elizabeth straightened her shoulders.This man was not going to be helpful.He had the look of an upper-crust butler.His expression filled with judgment about her clothes and her slightly worn gloves.Typical.But she had survived a season in society.She was no virgin to snide looks, and she certainly wasn’t going to take such attitude from some fancy shop clerk.
“I do not.I was curious about a silk top hat that I saw at a fete this past week.I was told it came from this shop.”She gave a sniff herself.“But perhaps I should spend my money where the staff are more friendly.I will make sure to tell my grandmother, the Marchioness of Rollinsford, how terribly unhelpful this establishment is.”When the man’s jaw dropped open, she turned on her heel and strode out of the store.
Outside, Elizabeth let out a sigh as she straightened her spencer jacket.She shouldn’t have lost her temper.But it had been amusing to see the man’s expression of horror when she mentioned her grandmother’s name.Not that her grandmother gave two whits about her.She hated to admit it, but Mr.Reeves had been right.
“Miz Harper.”A gruff voice called out from the street.
Spinning around, she found Mr.Reeves’s hulking servant, Ben—What was Ben’s surname?“Hello, Ben.What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to offer you a ride home.”He gestured to a fine-looking barouche next to him.“Boss’s orders.”
Startled, she glanced between him and the open-top carriage.“Mr.Reeves sent you to give me a ride home?How did he know I was here?”
Ben shrugged.“He said I should come to this here fancy shop and wait for you.”
“I am perfectly capable of walking home.I walked here just fine.”
“He said you’d say that.Said I would need to insist.Please, Miz Harper, I’ve already come all this way.Give those feet of yours a break and let me take you home.Bloomsbury is a fair walk from here.”
The smile across his broad face was sweet and made a strange contrast to his crooked nose and torn ears.She glanced at the curricle, eyeing the sumptuous velvet seats.It would be nice to not have to walk home.It would save her time, especially since she had wasted her afternoon coming across town to this shop, only to find out absolutely nothing about the hat.“All right, thank you, Ben.Ben, what is your surname?”
He held out a hand to help her into the carriage.“Smith.’Tis the name they gave me at the orphanage anyway.Everyone just calls me Ben, though.Or Big Ben.”
She smiled over at him as they settled in the carriage.Ben held the ribbons with practiced ease and guided the horses into the busy street traffic.“So, Ben, how long have you known Mr.Reeves?”
“Long time.Since he and Seaton were young whelps working the odds for the boxing at the Horse and Dolphin.I was a fighter for many years.”He glanced over at her with a rueful expression.“On account of my size, I was usually a good bet.When Mr.Reeves opened his own club, he asked me to come over and work for him.”
