“It’s very real. And Cecily is going to take London by storm.”
Cecily blushed prettily. “I hope I don’t disappoint you, my lord.”
“Impossible. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
But even as he said it, his gaze drifted to Georgiana. Because while any man would indeed be lucky to have Cecily, there was only one woman James wanted for himself.
And she was sitting just out of reach, looking at him like he’d hung the moon, completely unaware that he was already lost to her.
“Well then, we’d best finish breakfast. We have a Season to plan!” Mrs. Honeycutt clapped her hands together.
As the conversation turned to practical matters—dressmakers and dancing masters and presentation gowns—James allowed himself to imagine, just for a moment, what it might be like if Georgiana looked at him not with gratitude, but with love.
The thought was dangerous, and wonderful, and utterly terrifying.
But for the first time in his life, James Ashford found himself hoping for something he’d never thought he deserved.
*
The tailor’s belljangled softly as James stepped into the narrow shop. He’d not visited since his return but he had vague recollections of accompanying his father at one time or another. The scent of the place tugged at his memories, the distinctive scents of beeswax candles, wool, and the faint tang of heated pressing irons, reminding him of a time long past. Although the weather remained dreary, goodlight came in from the large front windows. Rolls of fabric were stacked on wooden shelves. Behind a worn oak counter stood Mr. Drayton himself. He straightened at the sight of James, a grin breaking out on his face.
“Lord Ashford, how delightful to see you again.” Mr. Drayton bobbed his head. “Is it time for your wardrobe? I’ve been praying every night you would come to me.”
“There is no one I’d rather have than you, Mr. Drayton. In fact, I am here to order an entire wardrobe.”
“Much obliged, your grace. Having your order will allow me to keep food on the table.”
Through the partially open door to the back room, James glimpsed a large cutting table strewn with pattern papers and the glint of shears hanging on the wall alongside measuring tapes and other implements of the tailor’s craft. “I have a friend joining us. She knows how a proper gentleman dresses, whereas I cannot confess to caring much about clothes.”
“But now, you must look your part. Here in the village, we couldn’t be more delighted about your return. You’ve put a lot of young men to work who were facing hard times.”
“It’s my hope that at some point, our village and farms will thrive as they did during my father’s leadership.”
“I’ve no doubt they will,” Mr. Drayton said. “No doubt at all.”
From behind him, the front door opened and in came Lavinia, cheeks flushed from the chilled air and the feathers of her hat quivering as if to indicate their excitement.
“Lord Ashford. How delightful this is.” Lavinia clasped her hands and gave a dazzling smile. Despite being middle-aged, the woman was beautiful. Looks she’d passed onto her daughters. Fortunately, that was all she’d given them. “I never thought I’d have the chance to help another man with his wardrobe. It was one of the only joys of my marriage.”
“Good morning, Lady Linley.” He caught a whiff of her jasmine perfume. She must have poured the whole bottle over herself.
He introduced her to Mr. Drayton. “This is the friend I mentioned earlier.”
“It’s an honor to serve you,” Mr. Drayton said.
“Mr. Drayton, we are going to keep you quite busy.” Lavinia whipped out a piece of paper and laid it on the counter. “I took it upon myself to write up a list of what we need. However, if I’ve missed anything, please let us know. The lord must be the best dressed at whatever event he attends.”
James glanced at the list, unable to disagree with Lavinia’s suggestions. His current attire fell so far short of a gentleman’s requirements that outfitting him properly would surely constitute Mr. Drayton’s largest and most lucrative commission in decades. James took comfort in that.
Lavinia wanted him to order impeccably tailored white linen shirts to be worn beneath superfine tailcoats in blue or brown, paired with buff or fawn-colored pantaloons and waistcoats that would range from striped satin to plain cream. Multiple cravats—some plain muslin for everyday wear, others embroidered silk for making calls—would need to be tied with the precision that marked a true gentleman. For evening entertainments, the requisite black tailcoat and knee breeches would be accompanied by an ivory silk waistcoat and white silk stockings. Whether braving London’s unpredictable weather in a greatcoat with triple shoulder capes or riding through his estates in waterproof wool, James would finally appear as his station demanded. However, he suspected Lavinia’s ambitious plans would ensure his wardrobe commanded far more attention than he preferred.
James stifled a sigh. This was going to be a long morning.
Mr. Drayton adjusted his spectacles nervously as he read through her requests. “This is extensive, Lady Linley.”
“I realize some of these items will have to be purchased inLondon,” Lavinia said. “But we’ll expect you to make the clothing. Lord Ashford has insisted we have those done locally.” She said this in a tone that expressed disapproval but resignation, as if she were an embattled soldier accepting the faulty missive of her superior.
“Yes, my lady,” Mr. Drayton said.
