would recognize me.”
“Of course. Close the door behind you, dearest.” Katherine started down the steps to intercept the interloper.
Several of Katherine’s workers glanced up with curious looks when Skeats passed their stations.
By then, Kat had arrived on the shop floor. She slowed her step and smiled in reassurance at each one of her employees.
“Mr. Skeats, what a surprise to find you here.” Katherine congratulated herself on the ability to keep her voice friendly. “How may I assist you?”
Whatever he wanted, she would deal with it politely and quickly, then send him on his way. She stopped in front of him, effectively blocking his pathway.
“Good morning, Lady Meriwether.” He bowed as one would expect of a gentleman, but Kat knew enough of the man to know he wasn’t one. He looked around the workroom. “This is quite an operation, my lady. It’s such a shame we have to scrape the barrel for competent workers. If you’d like, I can always send those we refuse employment to your way.”
Katherine wrinkled her nose. She smelled something rotten, much like the skunk before her. “Somehow I have managed to find the most qualified people for the positions here. Every single employee from the seamstresses to my delivery boy Rodney, who also cleans the work floors, is exemplary. However, I thank you for your kind offer.” She didn’t hide the hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“Are you out of mourning already? I thought mayhap a wife of your position, especially one married to a duke’s son, might abide a little longer”—he scrunched his thumb and forefinger together in a display of feigned concern—“to a respectable mourning period.”
“My late husband would have approved of whatever I did,” Katherine shot back in answer. She clasped her hands in a show of contriteness. “Forgive me for my outburst, but may I share the truth?”
“I’m all ears, Lady Meriwether.” Skeats smiled. “Do tell.”
She leaned in as if divulging a secret. “I never need any man’s approval.”
“We shall see,” he grunted in displeasure. “You’ll need the secretary’s, and he’s a man.” Skeats turned around slowly and surveyed the work floor. “What does the Duke of Randford think of your little operation here? I sincerely doubt he approves.”
“It really doesn’t make any difference what the duke thinks.” Katherine stood tall and straightened her shoulders. “I’m not married to him.”
A long shadow fell over Katherine’s shoulder. She didn’t have to turn around to deduce who had joined them. She turned and dipped a shallow curtsey. “Your Grace.”
“Your Grace.” Skeats bowed deeply.
“Mr. Skeats.” Christian’s voice was so low, it sounded like a growl. “Are you following Lady Meriwether?”
“Oh, no, sir.” Skeats shook his head vehemently.
“Are you following me, then?” Christian asked.
“No, sir. I didn’t know you were going to be here. I was in the neighborhood.”
“What exactly are you doing here?” Christian gaze bored through the man.
Skeats waved a hand toward Katherine. “I simply stopped by to tell Lady Meriwether how marvelous her operation is.” He curled his lip slightly, then addressed Kat. “Since we’re both under consideration for the Prince Regent’s business, if you need any advice or help, I hope you’ll ask.”
Only when ice was plentiful in hell would she ask him for anything.
Skeats surveyed the floor once again. “As you probably surmise, I’m the odds-on favorite for winning the contract since I’m the biggest supplier of fine bedclothes.”
“Modesty is one of your fortes, I see,” Christian mocked with a smile.
Skeats completely missed the sarcasm and took a turn around the work floor, calling out from behind, “Indeed, Your Grace. If my orders become too much, I could send the excess Lady Meriwether’s way. Though, I must say”—he reached across a worktable and smoothed a hand over a finished duvet—“the quality of your linens is outstanding. You’re becoming quite well-known through the ton.”
“How kind of you to say so.” Katherine caught up to him, then took him by the arm and led him back to the front of the workroom. It was obvious to everyone he was evaluating the shop and their products. Truly, she’d grown tired of his antics.
“Is that Belgium lace?” Skeats asked, making a beeline to the table that contained her inventory. “Where did you get it?”
But Christian blocked him by standing before him. “Perhaps another day, Skeats.”
If Katherine wasn’t mistaken, Christian had sneered slightly at the man. “I need to speak to Lady Meriwether. As one could imagine, I’m a busy man, and I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Then, Christian flanked her side, effectively obstructing Skeats’s