that divided the front of the shop from the back. “Bienvenue, can I help…” Her gaze landed on me and she paused. Curiosity and wariness flashed across her brown eyes, before she hooded her gaze with a polite inquiry. “My lord, so wonderful to see you again. Is there a problem that needs my assistance?”
“No. No, I…”
Hell. What was I doing here?
She smiled kindly. “My lord, you can count on us to be discreet. Would you like to buy your fiancé a gift? Perhaps a nightgown that might be a little risqué? Or perhaps—”
“I need to speak with Ginny.”
The woman went silent. That wariness was back, the polite façade gone. The seamstress was protective. I could see that. As much as it annoyed me, I also respected her loyalty. Ginny had someone, at least, by her side.
“That is to say Miss Smith. I’d like to speak with Miss Smith.”
The only sound was the soft tick of the clock on the fireplace mantel. I cleared my throat. She lifted a brow. I’d never felt so out of place. Not even when I’d realized I would inherit my title.
“Evangeline?” she asked.
Hell, was that her full name? It was elegant. Lady-like. She wasn’t a lady. She walked around with purpose. She refused me. She demanded things. Mocked high society. Read books on astronomy. No, she was like no lady I knew. Yet…the name fit her. Fit her well.
“I’m sorry, Lord Chambers, but it is her day off,” she said, apparently deciding she could not refuse me. “She’s at the book store down the lane.”
Books. I couldn’t help but smile. “Oui, bien sûr.”
“Merveilleux, my lord! Might I say your French is wonderful?”
Hardly, but I wasn’t about to argue. Whether a fishmonger, a whore, or a seamstress, they all knew how to flatter in order to sell their wares. But for Ginny. She’d never tried to sell anything but honesty.
“Then I’ll be…”
A sudden wail interrupted our conversation. The curtain swept aside and an older version of Miss Lamier appeared, a little bundle of a squirming baby cradled in her arms. “Fille, as-tu besoin d’aide?”
“No, mère.”
Gowns and ribbons, I could handle, babies were beyond my ability. I took a hesitant step back. Babies made me uneasy. They were so damn fragile, looked at you like they expected the world, and you better damn well give it to them. “I will bother you no longer.”
“Oh come, my lord, you must see the baby!” Miss Lamier slid her arm through mine before I had time to escape. “The girl is absolutely precious. She will get you into the mood for your own children, oui?”
Despite wanting an heir, I hadn’t the least desire to coddle children. Whichever wife I chose, would be in charge of that realm. “I really shouldn’t…”
Suddenly the Lamier women had me surrounded in a cloud of French perfume, and the baby was hovering under my nose like an offering. The child looked up at me with wide, blue-green eyes that held as much interest in me, as I had in her. She wore a ridiculous frilly white bonnet and white gown. A marvelous creation that said someone had been bored, and had too many scraps of material about.
She brought her tiny fist to her mouth and gnawed. She was cute, I supposed. So small that if they forced me to hold her, I’d probably accidentally crush the poor thing. Dear God, I prayed they didn’t try to shove her off on me. Certainly, they wouldn’t. I was a lord, after all. Lords did not hold babies.
“I really should be—”
“She’s my assistant’s child,” Miss Lamier murmured, her voice full of acknowledgment and secrets. “Her husband died. Poor dear. But Evangeline is so pretty, I told her she’ll find another in no time at all.”
A cold rush of reality washed through me. Ginny’s baby. I stared mutely at the child, who was oddly looking back at me as if she knew the way of my thoughts. Did she look like her? Yes. The pert nose, the dark hair. But for the eyes. The eyes belonged to another. McKinnon? Where they his eyes? I’d kill him. Ginny might not belong to me, but I didn’t care. I would destroy the man.
“You must hold her for practice, oui?”
“Non,” I muttered horrified.
But it was as if I hadn’t said a word. The warm bundle was pressed against my chest. Desperately, I grasped the child, afraid they’d release her and she’d fall to the ground. The baby didn’t even stir, merely