A Duke in Time (The Widow Rules #1) - Janna MacGregor Page 0,29

a bed and an intimate boudoir could be found here. The down was imported from Sweden, the linen from Ireland, and the finest silk available from Lyon. The embroidery on the bedcoverings was a work of art.

Indeed, her store was just as she envisioned it. Decorated in dusky pinks, Wedgewood blues, ivory, with accents of gold leaf, the shop catered to feminine tastes.

Immediately, she wondered what Christian would think of such an endeavor. Would he approve of it as he’d done with her modest home? “Christian,” she said aloud. The sound rolled over her tongue like a rich, decadent dessert. He was certainly that and more. A little too much of such richness, a person might become ill.

But it would be heaven to imbibe, she was certain of it.

She twirled a pencil between her fingers. His offer of four hundred pounds was tempting. With that money, she could hire more employees, train them, and purchase enough inventory to outfit the Prince Regent’s home along with the increase of business that would surely occur with the royal appointment. It would allow all that without the worry of juggling finances. But with that money came extra responsibilities, namely helping him establish a business for soldiers that would be profitable enough that they could become self-sufficient.

It wasn’t an easy feat, nor did she really have any time in her day for anything extra. She sighed softly. The truth was she had to turn the offer down.

But it left a bad taste in her mouth. She’d dearly love to help him.

A dangerous proposition on so many levels. She shook her head slightly at the thought. She was merely feeling gratitude for what he’d done for Constance, Beth, and herself.

After the morning’s first rush of customers, she sat down to her daily bookkeeping. A hopeless cause. She pushed it aside as she couldn’t concentrate.

The duke wouldn’t leave her be—at least her thoughts of him. He’d presented a side to her that was sweet and everything charming. She could easily see him captivating not only the Prince Regent, but the entire country. At their first meeting, she thought him grumpy and cold, but how wrong she’d been. Undoubtedly, his earlier aloofness could be attributed to the shock he encountered coming home to such a mess, but that was life. Fate had dealt Katherine several surprises just as staggering.

Even dukes weren’t immune to destiny’s power.

“Good morning, darling.” A beautiful blond woman exquisitely dressed swept into the emporium like a welcome ray of sunshine. Her favorite customer, Helen, the Countess of Woodhaven, entered. She wasn’t simply a customer, but one of Katherine’s dearest friends after she married Meri. She’d met Helen when the countess had walked into the shop without an appointment. Immediately, they’d hit it off and had become fast friends.

A smile escaped when Katherine leaned back against her chair. Whereas Kat had a slight build, Helen was tall, a perfect English beauty with a rosy complexion and bright blue eyes. But it wasn’t her height or features that made people take notice and seek her company. It was her welcoming personality and charisma.

“Good morning, Helen,” Katherine called in answer and pushed away from her bookkeeping. “What do I owe for the pleasure of your company?”

Helen swatted her hand in the air in a show of genuine affection. “You charmer. You know I’m here to place another order for your sumptuous linens. Remember?”

“For your brother, Lord Abbott.” It was bloody difficult to keep up with anything right now, when one’s life teetered on the brink of disaster. She winced slightly at the foul thought.

Helen glided to Katherine’s desk. “I’ve decided on the linen you showed me the last time I was in.” She waggled her eyebrows. “The one in ivory and the most expensive.” She turned her head to see if anyone was around, then lowered her voice. “I heard Father telling Miles that he had to start taking his responsibilities as heir more seriously. He wants him to marry.” She leaned closer. “The sooner the better. When are you out of mourning?”

“Helen.” Katherine sighed. “Please. You and I have discussed this before. I am not interested in marriage. At least not now.”

“That gives me hope you’ll consider it,” Helen pushed.

“You know my circumstances. I’m a bastard masquerading as a member of society. I don’t even know who my father is. What if my father was or is a swindler or charlatan?” If her father were such a man, it might explain how Kat had built a