“The accessories can be almost as time-consuming as the gowns. Poor Genie can barely keep up with those orders, let alone the accompanying bonnets, reticules, gloves… I really hope you are able to help her.”
Kitty swallowed, pushing back the thrill at the idea of her dream becoming reality. Her eyes strayed to Mr. Cooper, the reason she was here. “I think you are my lucky charm.”
“Me? Lucky?” He chortled, a lopsided grin on his face. “Luck has never been my friend. I’ve been teased about my lack of it since I was a boy. My sister Nora says I was born under a halfpenny planet.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Kitty. “You are a solicitor with an excellent reputation. Your family is well-liked and respected. Of course you are lucky.”
“I have never won a game of chance in my life,” he said emphatically. “No one will take me on as a partner in a card game or even charades. I always lose when betting on a horse—or anything else for that matter.”
“He speaks the truth,” said Mrs. Peckton, an amused smile crinkling the corners of her brown eyes.
“Never?” asked Kitty, unconvinced.
He shook his head. “Marbles? Torture. Always put in impossible situations and lost. My brothers could sneak into the kitchen and steal a last piece of pie or a biscuit, but I was caught every time.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean you are luckless,” argued Kitty, imagining him as an adorable little boy with yellow hair sticking up in a dozen directions. “Your skills are in other areas.”
“If there were three or four of us waiting to cross a street, and a carriage passed by, I would be the only one to get splashed. If I tried to beat the rain, I would be drenched every time.” He waved Mrs. Peckton to stay seated as he walked to the stove and removed the boiling water.
Kitty cut another length of thread and rethreaded her needle.
“It became known in the household that if I was brought along, anything bad would happen to me instead of them. I became a sort of insurance for my siblings.” Mr. Cooper chuckled. “Harry and Gus would take me to St. James’s Park, and we’d watch the cavalry practice. Sometimes the men would race each other, and bets were made. Before placing a bet, my brothers would ask me which horse I chose. They made sure to take any other.”
“So you were a lucky piece, er, person, for them?” Kitty laughed at his story. “You’ve proved my point.”
“Maggie says his luck flies the coop and lands on others,” said Mrs. Peckton.
“And I am the latest happy recipient.” Kitty looked up at Mrs. Peckton, who was studying the stitches she’d made so far. “Smaller?” she asked.
“No, those are perfect. Genie will be pleased.” She walked to a cupboard and took out four teacups, saucers, and spoons, setting them on a tray already laden with a small silver bowl. A large lump of sugar rested on the counter. She broke off a half-dozen chunks and placed them in a bowl. “Do you take milk?”
“No, ma’am,” said Kitty, quickly collecting her items from the table and returning them to the basket to make room for the tea tray. She noted Mrs. Peckton already knew how Mr. Cooper drank his since the tray did not have milk.
An hour later, after more tales of woe from the solicitor and two cups of tea, Mrs. Peckton squinted at Kitty’s stitches again. “Yes, you might be just what we need.” She turned to Mr. Cooper. “I am going downstairs now. We have a client coming at half past one. I expect to see you close behind me, Benjamin.”
Benjamin. What a wonderful and solid name. Possibly Ben to his family and friends? Kitty laid the gown on the table and stood too. She would follow them to the door and bid Mr. Cooper farewell. There would be no hint of impropriety. She would not chance offending these generous women.
Seeing Kitty stand, Mr. Cooper rose with a martyred sigh. “I suppose I need to return to my office and finish going over some documents. May I stop in again, Miss Felton? To, uh, see how you fare?”
She almost giggled. “It is not my home. You will need to ask Mrs. Peckton or Miss Chapelle.” Oh, but she wanted him to come again.
“Genie and Lydia,” reprimanded the older woman over her shoulder.
“I shall let your father know all is well when he wakes me tomorrow,” he said, turning to face her as Mrs. Peckton made her way down the narrow steps. “Would you like that?”
“I would be ever so grateful.” Kitty locked her gaze with his whiskey-colored eyes, heat rushing to her core. His head lowered just an inch or so, and she thought he would… Don’t be a ninny. Why would he kiss me?
“Would you mind if I asked him permission to court you?” he asked in a husky whisper.
She swallowed, not sure if she’d heard him correctly over her thumping heart. “What?”
“Miss Felton, it would be my honor if I could see more of you. Not as a protector.” His eyes darkened like brandy, roaming her face, landing on her lips.
The heartbeat seemed to vibrate through her body, and she resisted the urge to wipe her palms against her skirt. She nodded, not able to form any words. When he leaned toward her, her eyes grew wide, then slammed closed. His mouth covered hers, moving back and forth gently. A thrumming began in her lower belly. Her knees wobbled. Her fingers clutched his lapels, fearing she would sink, drowning in the feel of his soft lips against hers.
Kitty wasn’t sure what that new emotion was rushing through her. It was like a sudden summer storm. Unexpected and exciting.
He pulled back, leaving her panting. When she opened her eyes, he wasn’t smiling. He lifted his hand and pushed a lock of her hair from her cheek with his knuckle. It was a simple yet provocative gesture. Oh my. This man would be trouble for her.
