“I was going to bring them with me, already signed by you.”
“What if some small change is made? The slightest one will make what you bring useless.”
“I’ll have new ones drawn up, signed, and return with them. After you sign here, we can post his copies back to him.”
That would never do.
She pretended to be thinking hard. “It would be better if I went to Paris too, so it can be settled at once, if it is settled at all. We don’t want to risk a change of mind once we have reached an agreement. I am coming with you.”
His gaze sharpened. “What about your lessons? Your shop?”
“I will inform my tutors that my lessons must wait. Mrs. Ingram has come up from Richmond and can deal with the shop for a while.”
“Traveling together—it isn’t done, Miss Jameson.”
“We will not travel together. We will travel at the same time, but independently. I can’t object if you are on the same packet as I, or staying at a nearby inn.”
His expression revealed misgivings—but also a vague amusement and—could it be calculation? “It would be more appropriate for you to travel with a companion or maid.”
“Nonsense. I am not some girl. Besides, it is really not your decision. The timing is fortunate. I will be able to see the new styles in Paris and adapt them to my own hats and bonnets. I had intended to journey to Paris in the summer, but now will be more pleasant anyway, and I won’t be totally on me—myown.”
He shrugged. “It is not necessary, but . . . to avoid another row, I will allow it.”
“To avoid another row, I will not say that it is not for you to allow or not allow.” Relieved that he had not argued more, she gave the engine another good look, then eyed the invention. All the while she reveled in fantasies about her imminent reunion with Charles. She itched to be alone with her memories and plans.
“I should leave now. I have much to do before Monday,” she said.
He escorted her out. They waited in the portico while a servant went to procure a hackney carriage.
“Hotel Le Meurice,” he said. “That is where I will be staying. It is attuned to English tastes. There are others, of course. Minerva can probably advise you.”
She pushed aside her daydreams and considered the man standing beside her. He was behaving extraordinarily well, considering the way this visit had started. Her presence ever since had probably been a trial for him, yet he never showed that.
“I am sorry about how I reacted to your proposal. My response was not gracious.”
His only answer was a slight nod of his head.
The hackney arrived. After the servant handed her in, she spoke to him through the window.
“I am curious about something, Mr. Radnor. You said that the enterprise was one reason for your proposal. What was the other?”
He stepped up to the carriage window. She found herself gazing into his eyes, unable to look away.
“Marriage was an honorable way to have you in my bed. Now I’m left with the alternative.”
The carriage rolled just then, leaving her gaping at the open window.
Chapter Eleven
“What do you think?” Mrs. Ingram asked while she and Rosamund sorted through a delivery from one of the warehouses. This one consisted of ribbons and notions, along with some expensive silk flowers. Another included an assortment of ostrich and capon feathers. A sheet of paper waited nearby, for Rosamund to jot down anything that might be missing. Mrs. Ingram had chosen well, so that list remained very short.
“Put the ribbons on the shelf on the back wall here,” she said. “The notions can go in the workroom.”
Mrs. Ingram carried out the sack of notions while Rosamund looked around the shop. She had spent all of yesterday afternoon here, after leaving Mr. Radnor. Early this morning, she and Mrs. Ingram had returned to wait for a wagon that was bringing a bed and some furniture for the first story. For hours now, they had been readying the shop as best they could.
Because she would be out of the country for a week or two, Mrs. Ingram would now have to take command. Rosamund wanted to leave her with as little work as possible.
Some bonnets already decorated the window, high on their metal stands. A temporary sign on the door announced the location of Jameson’s Millinery, and a sign maker had arrived an hour ago for the commission of installing a proper one. Rosamund had strewn some ribbons around those bonnets, and a few silk flowers, so they didn’t look too lonely. Already she had spied some women peering in.
