It was a nice shop, he thought. There were fabrics folded in careful cascades, and a hat on a stand that was very fine, and at the back of the display, half-turned as though caught mid-movement, a dress on a form that had been made in a stunning color.
He looked at it.
It was a deep, particular green. Not the bright green of the dress Temperance had worn to the Pembridge dinner, but much richer and darker. He was aware that he was looking at a dress in a shop window with the focused attention he usually reserved for estate documents and was finding this difficult to stop.
He thought of Temperance’s eyes, which were green and thought of her at the ball in the green silk, and of how he had looked twice, and of the fact that he had looked twice at all.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said.
Edmund looked up from where he had been examining something on his saddle. “What?”
But Harper had already handed over his reins and pushed open the door.
The shop was quiet and smelled of fabric and something faintly floral. A woman behind the counter looked up when he entered with the expression of someone recalibrating her morning.
“Your Grace,” she said, “How can I help you?”
“The dress in the window,” he said. “The green one at the back.”
“Ah.” She came around the counter with a pleased expression. “That just came in this week. The fabric is from Italy.”
“Can it be tailored to fit?”
“What are you looking for?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, suddenly realizing that he did not have her measurements. “Can it be adjusted if necessary?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“Good.” He looked at the dress, which had been brought out from the window and was now on a stand in better light. It was, he noted, even better in better light. “I’ll take it.”
“I shall have it delivered to the estate, Your Grace.”
“When?” he found himself growing impatient, which was out of character for him.
“In a few days, I shall make sure of it.”
“See that you do.”
The transaction was completed in under four minutes, which was, he thought, a considerably more efficient deployment of time than two minutes with Nicholas ever turned out to be. He walked out of the shop with a coy expression.
Edmund looked at him, laughing.
“What were you doing?” he said. “Looking at dresses?”
“I don’t see how that is any of your business. Anyways, Nicholas is taking a long time,” Harper said, not wanting to discuss it further.
Edmund looked at him but said nothing. He had the wisdom, occasionally, to say nothing, and this was one of those occasions. They waited for another three minutes, at which point Nicholas emerged with a pair of gloves.
They rode the rest of the way home in relative silence. Harper rode with the box under his arm and his eyes on the road ahead.
It was just a dress, after all.
CHAPTER 11
“Something,” Temperance said, from the doorway of the sitting room, “is wrong with Soot.”
Albina looked up from her book.
