be able to remake some of them. And Mrs. Applestock might like a handbag or a hat. Possibly a blouse.”
He shrugged good-naturedly. “Do whatever you like. It’s your project. When you’re not working on your lapidary lessons. Which start next week, by the way. I’ve set it all up with the local guild in town. Henry will drive you to their hall, and you’ll do your lessons there.”
She took a breath and put her hand flat on her stomach. She was wearing a navy blue dress with giant red and pink silk flowers on it. “I can’t believe that’s actually happening. I’m so excited to get started. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Sir?” Elswood’s voice rang out in the foyer.
“In here, Elswood.”
The man came in. Not the briefest hint of curiosity showed on his face, but Robin had to assume he was wondering what was going on. After all, Robin hadn’t set foot on this side of the apartment in at least a decade. Probably longer.
Elswood gave a short bow. “Dinner will be ready in an hour, sir. Does that suit you?”
Robin hadn’t realized how late in the day it was already. “That’s fine, but I’d like it served in the family dining room this evening. Two place settings, you understand.”
Something—whether it was the dinner’s location or the addition of a place for Theo—caused a modicum of a rise in Elswood’s brows. “I understand. Very good, sir. I’ll let Mrs. Baton know. Also, if I may?”
“Go on.”
“As per your suggestion, two new staff have been brought on. A second housekeeper and a footman. We may only need them part time, but Mrs. Baton and I thought it wise to at least get them trained and ready.”
“That’s fine.” Robin looked at the mantel clock. The time seemed right. Baton must keep it wound. “We’ll be down for dinner in an hour.”
Elswood nodded. “Very good.” Then he bowed and left.
Robin made a note to remind the staff that he didn’t want them bowing to him anymore. But that could be done later. Right now, he had news to share. “Theo?”
She popped out of the closet, back in her jeans and T-shirt. “Yes?”
“You have about fifty-five minutes to put that ball gown and shoes back on and do whatever else you need to to get ready for dinner.” He stood. “I’ll meet you by the Gallow crest then. I have to get myself dressed, too.”
“Is it dinner already? I feel like we just had lunch.”
“That was almost five hours ago.”
“Really? Time flies.” She made a face. “Wait a second. You want me to wear a ball gown to eat in the kitchen?”
He smiled. “We’re not eating in the kitchen. We’re having dinner in the small dining room. Just you and me. In nice clothes.” He shrugged. “Why not?”
She blinked twice before answering him. “All right. Fifty-five minutes.”
* * *
Dinner with Robin in a dining room sounded lovely.
But she didn’t need fifty-five minutes to put that dress and those shoes back on. Maybe with the extra time, she’d do something with her hair. Maybe dig through the rest of Vesta’s stuff for some earrings or a bracelet. Both good ideas.
Which didn’t explain why she was just staring at herself in the closet’s three-panel mirror. Was this a date? It sounded like a date.
But no. Definitely not. She was Robin’s companion. He just wanted company for dinner. But that didn’t explain why she was putting on a ball gown and heels and why they were eating in one of the dining rooms.
Because that bit sounded very much like a date.
She’d gone on a date once. Three times, actually. All with Pinter Crossgrove, an apprentice fishmonger. He was, as her father had joked more than once, a good catch. Despite the fact that he was an apprentice, the shop was his father’s, so eventually he’d own it.
Fishmongers made good money. Pinter was a decent-looking fellow and had nice manners. Plus he’d been able, as her father had also joked, to overlook Theo’s crabbiness. So she’d gone out with him, thinking she’d eventually get used to the constant scent of salt and sea.
But Pinter had wanted a wife, and Theo couldn’t leave her father. Nor could she expect Pinter to take her father in, because that would mean taking on her father’s debts. Those burdens were hers and hers alone.
So as nice as Pinter was, things between them had disintegrated quickly. All for the best, she’d told herself.
But her inability to make things work with him somehow made her tarnished