As the day before, her chestnut brown hair was up in a tidy bun. Perhaps because it was morning, before the hordes of customers had descended upon New Bond Street and run this pretty miss off her feet, none of her soft curls had yet escaped the pins.
A shame. Yesterday, she’d looked like the subject of an Italian pastoral painting, if he were a man to make such poetic associations. Usually, he was not. Today, she was far too tidy, and he had a visceral image of sinking his fingers into her silky hair and sending the pins flying in order to release her locks. Perhaps when he was about to kiss her.
His cheeks heated at the wayward — and completely unexpected — thoughts. What’s more, he knew she’d seen something in his gaze because she blinked slowly and raised a dark eyebrow. He realized he’d said nothing yet, merely standing like an idiot, more bewitched by her at each encounter.
“Good day, Miss Rare-Foure. You are correct. I am not here for confectionery.”
Before he could say more, an entire army of confectioners came out of the back room, or so it seemed. Leading the charge was Mrs. Rare-Foure, the family’s matriarch. It was hard not to admire the woman who had built this successful establishment on the expensive shopping street, where the rent must be high. And she had done it selling sweets! At the same time, she’d born three lovely girls and taught them to make confectionery.
Pelham’s duchess, an impressive young woman who’d made his friend blissfully happy, appeared by her mother’s side. She was holding tins of chocolates and speaking to a young boy. If Charles wasn’t mistaken, it was the same lad from the day before. The boy held a sack in each hand, staring up at the duchess, hanging on her every word.
Last came thesnapdragon,as he thought of the middle sister, Beatrice. A bit tart for his liking, despite being lovely. In any case, she’d managed to snag herself a husband the year before, and Charles remembered the man showing up half-naked at Marlborough House, as if a costume was any excuse to go shirtless. Pelham said the snapdragon’s husband was a good brother-in-law, nonetheless.
All talking stopped when they saw Charles standing in the doorway with Miss Rare-Foure.
“Lord Jeffcoat, what can you be doing here so early?” Mrs. Rare-Foure asked.
He was absolutely determined not to tell them. That much was certain.
“Just passing by when I saw Miss Rare-Foure through the window” — that he’d pressed his face against like a child — “and I thought I would say hello.”
He couldn’t help noticing her sisters glance at one another.
“I can see you are busy, so I shall take my leave at once.”
“Nonsense, do come in and close the door,” the mother said. “We don’t want flies, do we? I would offer tea or chocolate, but as soon as we get the kettle going, it will be time to open. How is your father? Would you like to take him something for Easter? I couldn’t ask yesterday as it was mobbed when you arrived.”
No one ever mentioned his disloyal, wanton of a mother, and he hoped it was because she was long-forgotten by respectable society.
“Indeed,” he began, “I noticed yesterday your business is doing very—”
“Business, yes! I must get back to it. Charlotte, please help Lord Jeffcoat with whatever he wishes while I prepare our new employee to make his first deliveries.”
The boy appeared awfully young to be given such an important task. He wasn’t even holding all the confectionery yet, as the duchess was trying to give him more tins.
“I don’t need anything really,” he said to Charlotte who was still standing beside him, watching her bustling family.
“Edward needs another sack,” Beatrice said. “Or perhaps we should get him a pushcart.”
The females were overwhelming the lad.
“I thought having Edward would make it so none of us had to leave the shop, but maybe I should go with him,” Charlotte said softly, clearly thinking out loud more than discussing it with him. “Otherwise, he may have to make two trips.”
“Perhaps, if it’s the boy’s first day, I could accompany him wherever he needs to go.” Charles was surprised to hear himself make the offer. He had a long day of writs and briefs, but when she glanced up at him as if he were a hero, he was pleased he had made it.
Strangely, tough, her usual bright smile was not in evidence.
“That is most thoughtful and kind of you, my lord,” she said. “I cannot imagine any other gentleman in your position offering to do such a thing.”
He was no saint, but he also wasn’t going to accomplish his task of privately asking her out, so he might as well make himself useful before he went to the Inns of Court.
“Edward,” Miss Charlotte said, cutting through the noise of her mother and sisters, “come meet Lord Jeffcoat, a friend of the family.”
That startling introduction gave Charles pause.Was that how she saw him?He wasn’t sure if that was promising or if she considered him to be like an old familiar pair of slippers.
The boy approached. “Lord Jeffcoat,” Charlotte said, “this is Edward Percy.”
“Good day, my lord.” Edward bowed before sticking out a hand that entirely disappeared when Charles engulfed it for a simple handshake.
