Eliza reached the far end of the market square and turned in at Madame Pembroke’s, the bell over the door chiming like a peal of laughter.
The shop smelled faintly of starch and violets. Lace in every shadeof ivory hung like clouds above the counter. A girl in pale blue came out from the back and brightened when she saw her.
“Eliza! Miss Pembroke isn’t in just now, but I’m happy to assist—”
“I’m actually looking for Georgina,” Eliza said with a smile, stepping forward. “Or perhaps Mrs. Bainbridge. I wondered if they’d come in for a fitting?”
The girl blinked. “Not today, miss. Mrs. Bainbridge was here earlier in the week to view a few samples, but nothing was booked for today.”
“No?” Eliza forced a breezy tone. “She mentioned she was thinking about narrowing down fabric for the wedding.”
“She said she’d send word when ready.” The girl tilted her head. “Did you want to see what she chose?”
“No, no,” Eliza said quickly. “That’s not necessary. Thank you.”
Back outside, the sun had shifted westward, softening the glare on the cobblestones. The air still smelled of salt and coal and something sharp, perhaps roasted chestnuts. She crossed the square and made for the bookshop. The same one Georgina had mentioned in her note.
The bell rang. Familiar comfort.
The bookseller behind the counter gave her a pleasant nod. “Looking for anything particular today?”
“Not today,” she said. “I was meant to meet a friend near the park and thought she might have come in first.”
He tilted his head, thinking. “Lady Ravenstock, you mean?”
Eliza smiled. “Yes.”
“Haven’t seen her today, miss. Though a few days ago she asked after that pamphlet on maritime trade.”
“Of course she did.” Eliza laughed once, softly. “Thank you.”
She wandered for a moment longer than she needed to, tracing her gloved fingers along a row of volumes she didn’t read.
Outside again, the clouds had begun to gather near the horizon.
The tearoom was on the next corner. A pale pink door and rose-shaped windowpanes. She ducked her head in.
Empty, save two matrons and a scowling child with jam on his collar.
“Have you seen Lady Ravenstock this morning?” She asked the server near the window.
The girl shook her head. “Not since last week. She ordered lemon.”
Eliza offered a polite thank-you and stepped back into the wind.
She hadn’t realized until now how many places she expected Georgina to be. The tearoom. The bookshop. Even the apothecary was her final stop. Perhaps a headache had kept her from their walk. Or perhaps she needed tincture for something else. It would explain the note. The delay.
But the shopkeeper only blinked at her through a pair of thick spectacles and said, “Lady Ravenstock hasn’t been in. Not for some days.”
By the time Eliza left the shop, it was nearing one o’clock.
She had to meet Everly.
Still no Georgina.
The bell above the clock tower struck one as Eliza turned onto High Street.
She had not meant to hurry, but her feet had carried her briskly all the same. Her gloves were warm from her hands, and her cheeks stung faintly from the wind. A part of her still hoped, foolishly perhaps, that Georgina would appear at the last moment, pulling her cloak tighter, apologizing for the delay with that soft, even voice that never rose in fluster.
