Page 56

Corrina and Marissa appeared from behind the curtain, which was a most excellent thing. Because as his wayward mind had of late, it trundled straight down a wicked path to imagining Mercy in a filmy crimson nightgown.

For certain, he would burn in hell.

“Ronan,” Corinna said with a welcoming grin. “I cannot wait for ices. I thought I would melt during my fitting. Was there ever such a warm March day before? And to think, just two years ago, we didn’t have a summer at all to speak of.”

Ronan glanced at his wards, their little faces animated as they took in the bolts and bolts of bright cloth.

“Have my wards’ measurements been taken?”

“Last week, Ronan,” Marissa offered with a pretty smile as she took the girls’ hands. “Come, dears. You must see the selection of reticules, fichus, and fans that just arrived from Paris. There are small ones, just your size.”

“May we, Miss Mercy?” Arabelle asked.

A wave of pride swelled within Ronan. They were well-behaved little girls. He knew who was responsible for that.

“Of course.” Angling her head, Mercy smiled. “Be sure to stay with Lady Marissa though, and don’t touch.”

Nodding eagerly, they bustled away.

“Mother should be along shortly. Mademoiselle De la Cour was just finishing pinning Mama’s morning gown,” Corinna said helpfully.

“Corrina, dearest!”

The three of them turned as Cathryn Knighton, a statuesque brunette, sailed into the boutique accompanied by an older, stern-faced maid.

“Cathryn!” Corinna exclaimed with equal exuberance. “I didn’t know you had come up to town already.”

Corinna rushed to embrace her friend.

Laughing, Miss Knighton hugged Corinna. “Henry had some sort of business to see to. Naturally, I insisted I be allowed to accompany him. It’s never too soon to have new gowns commissioned for the Season.”

Ronan thought the maid might’ve muttered something ungracious beneath her breath which sounded decidedly like, “As if you need any more,” before cinching her mouth shut.

In all the years he had known the dervish that was Cathryn Knighton—at least fifteen, wasn’t it?—he’d never once seen her wear the same frock twice. Henry had his hands full with his sister.

Looping her arm through Miss Knighton’s, Corinna returned to Ronan’s side.

He didn’t miss Mercy retreating a few steps.

He despised the subservient mien she’d adopted. However, it wasn’t any different than that of Cathryn’s chaperone or the other three or four maids attempting to make themselves invisible within the shop.

Wasn’t that the way of it?

Servants were expected to be at the ready but always unobtrusive.

“Ronan, you know Cathryn,” Corinna said, still smiling widely.

His sister and Cathryn Knighton were two peas in a pod. Both enjoyed thumbing their noses at society’s strictures.

Dipping his head, Ronan murmured, “It’s always a pleasure, Miss Knighton.”

“I understand you’ve acquired wards since I last saw you?” Mischief sparkled in her light brandy-brown eyes, and Cathryn grinned. Nothing the least subtle about this hellion.

“Indeed,” he said.

Corinna had been busy, it seemed. He leveled her a chastising glance, but she just lifted a shoulder. Such juicy news couldn’t be contained, he knew. And Miss Knighton was her dearest friend.

Of its own accord, his gaze traveled across the shop to where Bellamy and Arabelle admired a child-sized cobalt blue and silver mantle. He made a mental note to purchase it and another in lavender when he returned to order the girls' gowns.