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“Why would anyone wish to stand out in the cold and stare up into trees for birds?” Vivian complained. “If only I had caught Clara alone, I would have choked her.”

Her mother giggled. “Duchess Torrington is a delight. I am sure you will enjoy her company. Not to mention that the handsome Mr. Yarnsby will be along. It will give you a chance to get to know him better.”

“And yet another thing my family has gotten me into. Why would you suggest that he and I shop together?” Vivian asked her mother. “It only gives him more leave to interfere in my life. Already he has managed to ruin any chance of finding a suitor.”

Penelope nudged her. “That is because he wishes to court you himself. I believe this trip to the country will be when he declares himself.”

“I certainly hope so,” their mother added. “He would be a perfect husband for you, Vivian, being that he’s part of William and now Clara’s family.”

Instead of replying, she sank back into the seat. There was no winning when it came to her mother and sister. Her father pretended to be asleep, although by the twitching of his lips, she knew better.

“Alexander Yarnsby is unkind. I believe he enjoys the game of irritating me much more intriguing than the idea of courtship. I will end up all alone, old and withered, with Mary feeding me boiled mushy food, because of him.”

Her mother shuddered. “You paint a horrible picture. I am sure it will not come to that. If Mr. Yarnsby does not make his intentions clear by the end of winter, your father will take matters in hand.”

“What?” Her father forgot that he was pretending to asleep and frowned at his wife. “Whatever do you plan for me to do?”

“You will find a suitable young man and ensure he marries Vivian.”

Her father stared at Vivian for a long moment. “Vivian is much too pretty not to have a line of suitors around the estate. The reason she has not found a suitor is because the simpletons are intimidated by her beauty.”

At his comment, both she and Penelope giggled while their mother shook her head. “Laugh if you must, but I am very serious. Albert, begin to study the men when you go to the gentlemen’s club.”

The thought of their father bringing home suitors made Vivian sigh. Every business associate he’d ever brought home for dinner or tea had been a horrible bore. The last one had managed to belittle Clara while attempting to show his interest in her.

She let out a long sigh. It was time to take matters in hand. First, she had to find a way to get rid of Mr. Yarnsby and his attempts to sabotage her chances to find a suitor.

“Penelope, I think your earlier idea has merit,” Vivian said peering out into the dark London streets.

Her sister’s face brightened. “How exciting.”

“What are you two plotting?” their mother asked, her eyes narrowing.

By the time her parents arrived at the country estate to celebrate the New Year, she hoped to be rid of the annoying Mr. Yarnsby.

Chapter 4

The exterior of the dress shop was nothing special. Unlike the neighboring shops, who did brisk holiday business, it was closed, the interior dark.

During the holiday season was when seamstresses made most of their money. Of course, if these two expected a windfall, they probably did not deem it necessary to work.

Through the window he saw several tailor’s dummies and bolts of fabric decoratively displayed. There were tables with sewing notions on them, as if someone had left in the middle of making something. He glanced at the etched glass on the door. Belle Monde Dressmakers filled it in curved artistic letters.

If the two people who’d come to disrupt his father’s funeral were indeed his children, why had he not provided for them?

So far they’d only approached one bank. Once the holidays were over and he could go to the bank, would he find out what proof they had to give them cause?

He leaned back and looked up. Above the shop were apartments, and he wondered if perhaps the duo lived there. It would be folly to seek them out, especially without as much information as he needed.

Just then a door opened, and a boy walked out. Hunched against the cold, the boy pulled his hat down over his ears and tugged at a dog on rope. “Hurry,” he urged the happy animal, who wagged its tail furiously and hopped up and down with excitement.

The boy released the rope and watched the dog as it searched out the perfect spot to relieve itself.

“May I ask,” Alex said, nearing. “What is your dog’s name?”

The boy smiled up at him. “Spotty.”

“It suits him,” Alex replied, studying the black and white dog. “Do you know the people that own this shop? I forgot to pick up a shirt and now it is closed.”