A footman accompanied them through the busy streets as Isadora found what she was looking for: a small seamstress’s shop tucked under a smaller archway.
Isadora had always secretly coveted the place, staring hungrily at the gowns displayed in the windows—while never being granted an opportunity to enter. When she was merelyIsadora Fairbourne, a pesky affliction on the Chester family, her aunt and uncle had not wanted to spend over a shilling than was necessary on her. Then, as duchess, she’d had the privilege—and excitement—ofsummoninga seamstress to her home to provide measurements, choose material, and eventually try on the gowns.
Butthiswas different. And she wanted to give Sophia a chance to experience what she had never been able to.
A bell rang as they stepped over the doorway into the darkened interior, and Isadora glanced around at the rolls of material, lace, buttons, and ribbons on display, an expression of wonder on her face.
The proprietor bustled toward them, and upon understanding that her patron was the Duchess of Winchester, immediately wreathed her face with smiles.
“I am delighted to welcome such distinguished company to my humble shop,” she greeted, waving an assistant forward. “What can I do for you, Your Grace?”
“I would like a ballgown for my daughter,” Isadora answered.
If the lady before them—a Mrs. Fernside—was disappointed, she had the good sense not to show it, and instead turned to Sophiawith another of those wide smiles. “Indeed? How wonderful! Do you have anything particular in mind, young lady?”
Sophia brightened at this treatment, and Isadora stood back to watch as the little girl stroked her tiny hands over multitudes of materials and peered at fashion plates before eventually deciding on the design she would like. Then commenced the measuring process. All the while, Mrs. Fernside plied Sophia with gentle questions about her hobbies, preferences, and what she would be using the gown for. Sophia, delighted to be treated in such an adult way, chattered away freely.
Once again, Isadora was reminded of the young girl she had first met—the one who had seemed so old for her years, and who had been trained, almost, to sit in Society’s conversations in a way that most young girls did not.
Once this process had been completed, and Isadora chose a few ribbons for herself, they left the shop and walked down the street arm in arm.
“Thank you!” Sophia cheeped with a happy sigh, tipping her head back to stare at the sky. “That was wonderful.”
Isadora’s lips curved. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Papa loves me, but he would never do something like this for me. She’s going tomakeme a dress… how amazing!”
“Well, that is how ballgowns are usually commissioned,” Isadora explained with a laugh. “And weareattending a ball together.”
“Even Papa.”
“Even your father,” Isadora agreed. “And he doesn’t like to dance, so count yourself lucky.”
“Did he tell you that?” Sophia made a contemplative noise. “Sometimes I think he’s not very good at being nice.”
“Is he ever not nice to you?”
“Oh, he’salwaysnice to me.” Sophia pursed her lips, thinking, and Isadora wished she could take this expression of burden away from the young girl. “But sometimes he isn’t always nice to other people… Even my aunts.”
Isadora thought back. “He seemed as though he was being nice to them then.”
“I think… sometimes he doesn’t see people aspeople. Except me.” Sophia’s small hand slipped into Isadora’s. “And you.”
Isadora couldn’t help thinking about the last breakfast they’d shared, where he had sat behind his newspaper so resolutely, there had been no chance of a conversation, even if she’d known what to say. “Is that so,” she mused.
“I’m glad you married him.” Her serious expression dissolved into a blissful smile. “And I’m especially glad I get to have you as my mother.”
“Well, I’d hope so.” Isadora squeezed her small hand. “I’ve always wanted a family of my very own, and marrying your father gave me one. So, I, too, am very happy.” She glanced up, the smile still on her face, and froze.
There, standing at the other end of the street, reins in hand, was Mr. Windham.
York was not a large city, but it was large enough that she had thought she could visit it once during the day without having to worry she might run into her former betrothed.
She wished, irrationally, that Nicholas was standing beside her.
But then she straightened her spine. Such wishes were foolish, and besides, if Nicholas had been here, he might have suspected that she had intended to meet Mr. Windham. She couldn’t forget the way he had reacted when she’d first received the letter from him.
Upon seeing her, Mr. Windham immediately made his way to her side, pushing through the crowd. Isadora stepped between him and Sophia, partially blocking the girl with her body. Not because she thought Sophia would be in danger, particularly, or because she feared whatever Sophia might see, but because she wanted to shelter the girl from this kind of man.
