Heiress in Red Silk (Duke's Heiress #2) - Madeline Hunter Page 0,47
we will find someone else. Lots who will be glad for the situation.”
Two valises and another box were carried into the shop. Once he was gone, Mrs. Ingram opened one valise. It was full of caps.
“You didn’t ask for them, but we’ve quite a few, so I brought these. Only a few plain ones. Most are the fancy ones, with lace and such.”
“You have been thinking more clearly than me.”
“In Richmond they always paid the lease. Maybe they will here too.”
Mrs. Ingram straightened, then strolled to the back, peering around the wall.
“I’ll be needing you to go to the warehouses, to purchase fabrics and ribbons and forms,” Rosamund said. “I want to start as soon as we can.”
“We’ll be needing a girl.”
“You may find one as you see fit. You chose the last apprentice, so I have confidence in your judgment.”
Mrs. Ingram was of an age when fine lines had formed above her lip, like tiny, visual echoes of the ones on the sides of her eyes. She pursed her mouth and those lines exaggerated her expression. “Are you going to tell me how you got that bruise on your cheek? Seems that legacy should protect you, not cause you harm.”
Rosamund’s fingers went to her cheek. “Does it look very bad?”
“Bad enough.” Mrs. Ingram opened the other valise and fished around in it. “You are not to tell anyone about this.” She removed a small wooden box and opened it. “This salve will hide the worst of it. Come here and I’ll dab some on.”
It didn’t look like salve. It looked like paint. Rosamund submitted to Mrs. Ingram’s deft fingers. “You use this?”
“A bit here and there, vain fool that I am. Let’s say that time is not kind and leave it at that.” She stood back. “It will do. Best if you avoid strong light, though.”
Rosamund fumbled for her pocket watch. It was almost ten o’clock. “Perhaps when you go to the warehouses, you will buy me some of that salve for tomorrow.” She took a card from her reticule. “This is where I live. Have the bills made out to me and sent there. I have arranged accounts at most of the warehouses. Here is some money, to pay for hackney cabs.”
Mrs. Ingram took the card and coins. “Accounts and transport, no less. I can see things will be a bit different here than what we knew in Richmond.”
* * *
Kevin knew it was well past ten o’clock, but he checked his pocket watch anyway. From his position at a library window, he could see no activity on the street.
She probably would not come today. Not after last night. Still, he had prepared for her call, just in case. He suspected Miss Jameson was the sort of woman who did not miss appointments unless she sent word that she would.
He hoped she did come. There were decisions to make that should not be delayed.
He paced around the library, unable to sit and think, uncomfortable with his own body. If she did not show, he would go out and either fence or box. Some exercise should rid him of the agitation that made him so out of sorts.
He heard a carriage. He bolted to the window and strained to see it rolling down the street. When it slowed, he bounded out to the reception hall, sped past the servant on duty, and threw open the door. Miss Jameson peered out the cab’s window.
The servant nipped around him and handed her down. She smoothed her skirt before coming toward the door.
She had tried to hide a bruise on her face. Perhaps those who did not know it was there would not notice it, especially in the day’s overcast light. He saw it right away, however. His anger at Philip had never fully receded, and now it spiked again.
He swallowed his reaction and greeted her. “Welcome. We have much to discuss.”
“We do indeed. It is past time, I think, to show me the invention.”
“Of course. However, I have had some coffee prepared, and the terrace is a fine spot from which to see the garden. Let us go there for a few minutes first.”
“I do not need coffee. I have been busy since eight o’-clock. However, I suppose you are newly awake, so I will join you.”
He ushered her through the house to the morning room. Breakfast awaited his father. He gestured toward it. “Would you like—”