A Duke in Time (The Widow Rules #1) - Janna MacGregor Page 0,84
spotless after she’d spent the morning tidying and cleaning the place herself. The windows sparkled and the linens were artfully arranged in the main showroom so he could evaluate each design that she offered.
In his mid-thirties, thin, and rather tall, Mr. Sherman glanced around the room. “May I wander on my own for a moment or two?”
“Please do,” Kat answered. As soon as he turned from her, she brushed her sweaty palms down her dress. They’d visited the workshop before coming here. Thank heavens for Beth. She’d had the place perfectly arranged, and Kat’s employees were working on a wide variety of projects so he could evaluate the work-in-progress. Each station featured a different product. Pillows, coverlets, and various linens were showcased. Kat had even shown him the inventory and had explained in detail how she would increase her staff and products to meet the Prince Regent’s needs. Mr. Sherman had simply nodded but offered little else. She had no idea what he’d thought of her production area.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and evaluated the room as if she were seeing it for the first time. The room’s interior was tastefully decorated. She hadn’t skimped on choosing the finest paints and wallcoverings for the shop. She’d been fortunate when she’d come upon a furniture auction one day that wasn’t well-attended. The beautiful but worn Louis XVI bedroom furniture she’d picked up for a song. Luck was with her also when Mr. Reed and his men had the time to refinish the furniture for the secretary’s visit. The results were remarkable. Everything looked brand new.
Even the linens themselves were exquisite. Her employees were some of the finest seamstresses in all of England. If she wasn’t awarded the contract, it wouldn’t be because of the quality of her goods.
Mr. Sherman removed his gloves then ran his hand over a lovely linen. He picked up the edge of the coverlet, then pulled at a seam. “The stitches are tight and orderly.”
“Thank you.” Kat reached his side and ran her hands over the matching pillows. “This is for Lady Wilder. She’s outfitting her country seat in Essex.”
“The Marquess and Marchioness of Wilder?” he asked. Before she could answer, he took out his paper and pencil and jotted a few notes.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat and clasped her hands behind her back, hoping to hide their shaking. “She was my very first customer, and one of the most loyal.”
“How many bedrooms does she have?” He narrowed his green eyes.
This was a test of her ability to satisfy all her orders. “She has nineteen. She orders a set approximately every three months when she redecorates the family quarters.” She smiled earnestly. “If you’re wondering how I will manage if I receive the contract, there’s no need. As I’ve mentioned, I have plans to hire additional employees for my orders. My current employees will be dedicated to the Prince Regent’s orders.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Do you have a journal for your orders? Perhaps I can see that along with your bookkeeping? I need to see how financially secure you are.” He slipped the paper and pencil back into his pocket.
“Of course. Please follow me.” Kat led the way into her private sanctum, her office. She pulled the journals from her desk then handed them to him.
Before Mr. Sherman sat in front of her desk, he walked to the new linens Helen had ordered from her. “Who is this for?”
“My dear friend, Lady Woodhaven. That’s Belgium lace.” She smiled as he examined the linens. They were some of the most extraordinary pieces she’d designed. “I have someone in York who supplies me.”
“Exquisite,” he murmured with awe. He pulled out his paper and pencil and made a few more notes.
Kat released the breath she’d been holding. It was the first truly positive comment he’d made in her presence.
He sat down and started skimming pages in her order journal. Carefully, he closed it, then turned his attention to her bookkeeping. He perused the entries much as he’d done with the order journal. After a moment, he lifted his head and stared at her. “The Duke of Randford gave you four hundred pounds two days ago. What is it for?”
She smiled in reassurance. “It’s a payment for services. I’m helping him create a charity, a business really, for the men that served under him in the army. Many came home without work. The duke is trying to help them establish their lives. It’s a marvelous idea, don’t you think?”