“Never heard of it,” Maddox said.
“Didn’t think so.”I strode over to the oval mirror hanging above the mantelpiece, rearranging the respectable updo I’d managed to wrangle my hair into that morning.My usual braid was far too informal for a visit to the massive department store.
The high society magazines lauded Blanche de Clare as the crème de la crème of fashionable consumerism, which was an impressive title considering it opened only four months ago.Despite its tender age, it had quickly become all the rage with the new money upper class.Having a spot within its palatial walls was a dream come true for any business owner.
Maddox’s reflection appeared behind mine, his face scrunched in distaste.“Why is your hair like that?”He picked out a loose pin behind my ear.
I scowled at his reflection and snatched the pin back.“Why thank you, you look nice too.”
Maddox Greenwood was, unfortunately, a golden-haired Adonis with a pleasing figure that joining the Royal Guard only improved.I would have described his gray eyes as dreamy, if I didn’t know for a fact he had a very silly brain behind them.
Boys who looked like Maddox were a rarity in Witch Village.It was why I had found him so appealing when I first met him last winter—but what I wanted to be a brief flirtation quickly turned into a grating friendship that lasted far past the kingdom tour.
It always ended up this way with boys.Christabella said they were more interested in bickering with me than kissing me.
Maddox shrugged.“I brought mending,” he said, pulling out a wad of fabric from his pouch.He shook it out, revealing a wrinkled brown waistcoat with a hole worn into the lining.
I scrunched my nose.“Are you sure you don’t want it for rags?It’s hideous.”
“Your blouse is hideous.”
“Your face is hideous,” I shot back, grabbing the waistcoat.“Now come quickly.I have your stuff from last week.”
Maddox stuck his tongue out, the expression dispelling any notion that he was a grown man of twenty-one.He followed as I made my way behind the counter.
The back room was little more than a cramped closet, three walls covered in dusty walnut shelves from floor to ceiling.In the middle stood the mannequin that held a mockup of Narcissa’s wedding dress: the beginnings of a structured bodice and wispy, off-the-shoulder sleeves.
Tucked away in a bottom shelf, which I hoped Maddox wouldn’t see, was a large bundle that held a cot, a pillow, and blankets.Regretfully, the room also served as my bedchamber every night.
Maddox gingerly pushed the mannequin away to fit himself inside.
“Careful with that!”
He held his hands up.“Sorry.”
I dug through a middle shelf, withdrawing the shirt he had given me last week with the torn cuff which I had replaced.It was still the same filthy shirt, the linen sweat-stained and threadbare from far too many washes, but at least it was in one piece now.I stood and thrust it at him.“Here.”
Maddox examined my handiwork before stuffing the garment carelessly into his pouch.
“Your clothes are in shambles,” I said, picking off a loose thread on his shoulder.His cravat was tied carelessly and his coat was pilled.The lapels of his waistcoat sat limp and flat, as if the pad stitching meant to shape them had disappeared entirely.“Why don’t you have a new wardrobe commissioned instead?”
Maddox’s face lit up.“That would require frequent fittings, correct?”
“I suppose.”
“Then I’d like to order a new wardrobe.”
I crossed my arms.“What’s this about?”
“I want new clothes.”
“I don’t think the clothes want you.”I made a move to exit, but Maddox didn’t budge.There was an odd glint of desperation in his gray eyes and he reeked of horse, as if he’d spent the entire morning riding.Usually, that meant one thing.
“There’s something wrong at home,” I stated.
“Alright, I’m avoiding Father!”He gave a big sigh that ruffled the top of my hair.“He wants me toworkagain.It hasn’t even been a year since I left the Royal Guard!”
It was usually entertaining to listen to Maddox’s problems, especially regarding his petty arguments with his father, but right now, I had somewhere to be.
