“Now, to pick out the perfect material.” Monique stood.
Althea followed her to the stacks of fabric on the other side of the shop. Every color imaginable from the finest silks to the lightest wool were on display. She fingered the pale-yellow satin, remembering the ball gown she once owned during her last season. She’d been wearing this color when she first waltzed with Melcombe.
She shook the memory from her mind. It did no good to recall what was gone and could never be again.
“What about this one?”
Monique held up the green wool from the day before. The one Delia thought she should have. “I think something duller would be more appropriate.”
Monique arched an eyebrow but said nothing as she continued to look through the fabrics.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Prestonglancedupfromhis desk at the sound of the front door opening. Had Althea finally returned? She had left well over two hours ago. When she was gone half an hour, he sent one of the footmen into town with the carriage to look for her. He returned to report Althea was in a dress shop. Not that the servant had gone inside, but after glancing her through the window, he reported back to Preston. The news had removed any worry for her safety and Preston sent his carriage to wait for her to emerge from the shop so she would not need to walk back. After his nieces had gone for measurements and such, he now knew that those appointments could be long.
It was likely Miss Claywell settled into shopping to take her mind off what had happened until she felt ready to return. His mother often said that shopping was the cure for many discomforts, grievances, and when in need of distraction.
Preston rose from his desk and walked out into the hall. The library door had been left open today so he could hear the door and hoped to intercept Althea before she disappeared upstairs to be with the children. He doubted she would seek him out and probably hoped to avoid him. Preston really couldn't blame her. He was a cad and ashamed of his behavior.
The cool air hit him before the door was closed and Preston blew out a sigh of disappointment that it was Jenkins, the local solicitor and Preston’s man of business, who was standing at the entry and not Althea.
“I didn’t expect to see you today.” Preston stepped back so Jenkins could come into the library. The last thing on Preston’s mind was business. But, if Jenkins made the trip from town in this weather, he should do him the courtesy of meeting with him.
“Oh, it is a cold one.” The man shook off his coat since the butler had vacated his post by the front door.
Preston pulled the rope to summon a servant. If he knew Jenkins, the man would want a cup of coffee, possibly laced with whiskey to warm him.
“This appointment was scheduled a month ago. Did you forget which day it is?” Jenkins chuckled. “You need to make plans for the spring, wanted a report on the number of sheep and how much wool you could anticipate, as well as my opinion on purchasing wool from surrounding communities.”
Preston sank into the chair behind his desk. He had forgotten, but if they were to have further success, they could not wait until the spring to decide how they planned on using the wool. “What do you suggest?” He glanced at the clock. Perhaps by the time he and Jenkins were finished Althea would be back in the manor, safe and warm where she belonged.
Jenkins glanced about. “What of Lord Harwich. He was to join us as he partners you in Turner Textiles.”
Preston snorted. “Knowing my cousin, he is tucked in at home before a fire and enjoying brandy, and not out in this.”
“Now, let me get your measurements.” Monique lifted the dark grey bolt of wool and walked back into the front of the shop and placed it on the counter.
Althea followed without the excitement she had experienced in the past when making plans for new dresses. She was certain it was due to the events of the day and not the drab gown she would have in the end.
She stepped into the small fitting room and Monique came in from behind, ready to undo the buttons at the back of her dress. When she stopped, Althea looked over her shoulder.
“Do you want to tell me what really brought you into my shop on such a day?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Althea hoped the woman didn’t press further.
Monique stood back with arms crossed over her middle. “You are in slippers, not walking boots,” she pointed out. “You had been crying before you arrived, I’m certain that you have no idea what dress you decided upon because of your distraction, at least two of the buttons on the back of your dress are undone, and…” She lifted a finger to her neck. “There is a love mark, just under your ear.”
Althea brought her hand up to cover it, wondering if she had cosmetics at home to hide the bruising until it disappeared. She knew Melcombe had nipped her, but she hadn’t expected any marks to be left.
Why shouldn’t there be marks on her skin? There certainly were on her heart and soul.
The tears began to pool again, but Althea refused to let them fall. “I would rather not discuss it if you don’t mind.”
Thankfully, Monique said nothing and went about helping her remove her dress before she proceeded to take Althea’s measurements. When she was finished, Monique helped her back into the serviceable gown. “Did Melcombe attack you?”
Althea whipped around. “No, why would you say such a thing?”
The woman arched an eyebrow. “Seduced, perhaps?”
