One Thing Leads to a Lover (Love and Let Spy #2) - Susanna Craig Page 0,97
emergency.”
Fanny’s head tilted to the side as she fixed Amanda with a skeptical look. Her bonnet covered up every strand of her distinctive blonde hair. “An emergency that requires a dressmaker?”
Amanda darted her gaze around, searching for inspiration, and found it in a rusty nail sticking out from the wooden handrail leading up to the apothecary’s shop. What was one more casualty of her wardrobe? Tugging off one glove, she used her trembling fingertips to pry the nail loose. Then she handed it to Fanny and turned her back to the woman, speaking to her over her shoulder. “Tear my dress. Jagged strips. Right down to the petticoat. We’ll—we’ll say a stray dog attacked me, had me right in its jaws. I only just managed to get away, but I’m overcome. I need somewhere to sit down and something which with to make myself decent.”
Fanny took the nail and her blue eyes swept Amanda from head to toe. “You’re certain, my lady?”
“Please.”
Gripping the rusty implement, Fanny reached out for a tentative swipe, at first snagging the figured yellow muslin, but not tearing it. Then, drawing a determined breath, she switched her hold on the nail, the better to control its movement, speared its point through the delicate fabric, and dragged it downward. One long strip, then another, until most of the back of Amanda’s skirt was in tatters and the unmentionables beneath were on full display.
Amanda gave a satisfied nod, and Fanny tossed the nail into the gutter. Dropping her makeshift veil over her face, Amanda then drew a deep breath, and shrieked. “Bad dog! Oh, bad dog! Down! No!” Fanny soon joined in the scolding of the imaginary animal, until Amanda nodded toward the door and mouthed, “Now.”
Fanny first knocked with her knuckles, then hammered against the door with the side of her fist. “I’m not sure they’re going to answer, my lady.”
“Keep trying,” Amanda urged. “I can see a light burning within.”
Fanny kept up the fierce battery, and after what seemed an eternity, a man who looked entirely too unkempt to be a shop clerk, particularly one at an establishment catering to ladies, came to the door and opened it a crack. “Closed,” he said in a heavy accent, pointing to the sign.
“Can’t you see my lady has had a mishap?” Fanny demanded in turn, directing the man’s attention to Amanda’s unfortunate appearance, even as she wedged the toe of her sturdy walking boots into the narrow opening of the door. “Was it your mangy cur that had the nerve to grab hold of her dress and run off? Let us in, man, let us in. My lady can’t stand in the street in the all-together.”
With a show of fearlessness, they forced their way into the dressmaker’s shop, driving the befuddled man backward. He said nothing more, making Amanda wonder whether he spoke more than a few words of English.
Fanny must have reached a similar conclusion. “Now, fetch some pins and a bolt of whatever you’ve got that’s fine, so I can mend her dress,” she said, miming each object as she cast a skeptical glance around the little shop.
It must never have served a particularly elegant clientele, and did not appear to have served any customers at all for some time. A moldering odor hung heavy on the air, and everything was coated in a layer of dust. Ribbons and trimming dangled limply from mostly empty spools, and the pattern books lying on a nearby table were years out of fashion.
“Well, sirrah? Don’t just stand there,” Fanny ordered the man, who had retreated behind the counter.
“M-moment,” he said before darting into the back.
“What next?” Fanny asked quietly, although he was out of earshot.
“I’m not certain,” Amanda confessed.
He returned a moment later with a bolt of coarse cloth tucked under his arm and proffering a dish of straight pins in one hand.
Amanda stepped forward, ostensibly to investigate what he’d brought but really to discover if she could see anything past the tattered curtain through which he’d disappeared. “Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?” she asked hoarsely, leaning on Fanny’s arm. “That horrible beast…”
“Goodness gracious, my lady. You look as if you might faint. Here, let me help you to a seat,” she said, taking Amanda’s arm and nodding toward a chair with worn upholstery. “I’ll see that you get your tea if I have to step into the back and make it myself.”
Amanda heard footsteps creak on hidden stairs and the curtain lifted again. “That