“After we visit the dressmaker’s. You should have at least two new day dresses. I swear I recognize castoffs from the theater among your things. That cuirass bodice, that mossy thing I’ve seen you in, I believe I wore that when I played Nora inThe Doll House.”
“I told you that you chose the pattern, the color, and the trim. I added the tie and took it in, of course.”
Full comprehension struck Fiona as she was preparing to step down to the street. She faltered on the lip of the walk and would have fallen if Remington had not caught her by the elbow and steadied her.
“Are you all right, Fiona?” he asked. “Here. Let me take those parcels back.”
Except to wave Remington away, she ignored him and turned her narrowed eyes on Phoebe. “Why, you little cat.”
Phoebe stared back. Her green eyes, very much like a cat’s with their flecks of gold, projected only innocence inthe face of Fiona’s heat. It was then that Phoebe thought Remington truly saved her, saved them both really. He stepped between them.
“Here’s how we will proceed, ladies. Fiona, you will go to the apothecary while I escort Phoebe to the dressmaker’s. I’m assuming you’re using Mrs. Fish. Is that right?” When Fiona nodded shortly, he said, “We will meet at the Butterworth for lunch and neither of you will put a paw in the cream or claws in each other. Understood?” He waited for them to nod in turn before he blew out a long breath. “All right, then.” He assisted Fiona’s step to the street, turned, and held out a hand to Phoebe.
“For God’s sake,” Fiona said when Phoebe hesitated. “Don’t be churlish because I’m standing here. Take it.”
Phoebe did. Her fear that Remington might allow the handclasp to linger came to nothing. He released her hand and gestured to her to proceed. Fiona was already marching ahead. They followed her to the apothecary. Remington opened the door for her but did not step inside.
“What is she carrying?” Phoebe asked when he joined her again.
“Your trousers, a blue chambray shirt, two neck cloths—one blue, one red—and a brown leather vest. The neck cloths will not be a problem, but the rest...” He shrugged. “I can’t be sure anything will fit. I bought the smallest I could find.” He added wryly, “But you might have to take things in.”
“If you think that’s amusing, it’s not. I envy Fiona her figure, and she knows it. No matter what she believes, I did not say that to get under her skin. I didn’t know I could, and I don’t know why it worked, but when she turned those accusing eyes on me and called me a cat, I decided right then that I would let her believe what she wanted to, and that it would serve her right.”
“I’m never accompanying the two of you to town again. I’m sending Johnny Sutton, and I’ll muck stalls.”
Phoebe smiled a little at that. “Are we so bad together?”
“Maybe I just don’t understand women.” He gestured ahead to the door on his left. “That’s Mrs. Fish’s shop.”
Phoebe’s shoulders sagged and her steps slowed. “Do we have to?”
“You have what you came to Frost Falls for, even if you haven’t seen it yet, and Fiona is right about you needing a couple of sensible day dresses.”
“I don’t recall her mentioning sensible.”
“My adjective. Things suitable for summer. You’ll thank her.”
“Maybe.” She waited while he opened the door for her, but before she stepped over the threshold, she held up the large parcel she held. “What’s in here?”
“Boots.”
“Ah. And in your box?”
“Your hat.”
“Black?”
“Pearl gray. Silver band, though.”
Phoebe wondered if her smile was as wide as it felt. “Thank you.”
“Wait,” he said, “until we can see if you can keep it on your head when you fall off your horse. Then we’ll know if it’s a good fit.”
Chapter Fifteen
A week later, Phoebe was back in Frost Falls with Fiona, and this time it was Ben who accompanied them. Phoebe found the arrangement satisfactory when comparing it to the prospect of having gangly Johnny Sutton riding post. From the outset, it put Fiona in a much better mood.
There had been a mild thaw in the past seven days, but Phoebe imagined that Remington, who had been there when the freeze set in, was likely the only one who observed it. The cold shoulder that Fiona pressed in her direction was made more noticeable because she was warmhearted to everyone else. Even Thaddeus, with whom she was piqued but had not yet confronted, and Remington, whom she had marked from the first as disagreeable, received her kind regard.
