Wed in Disgrace (Convenient Arrangements #3) - Rose Pearson Page 0,15

herself, Delilah moved through the shop, making certain to avoid the other ladies who had come in. She meandered slowly, taking in all the wonderful colors, the different fabrics, the beautiful items ready for someone to purchase.

“Did you see Lord Coventry last evening?”

The smile Delilah wore dropped in an instant, and she froze, her back towards the ladies that were speaking in less than quiet tones.

“I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw him dancing with that lady!” said another voice, a giggle following her words. “How dare he think of standing up on the floor in such a manner?”

“And what of the lady herself?” came a third voice. “She did not seem to think it improper for her to dance with such a disgraced gentleman.”

“Perhaps she does not care about her reputation,” said the first. “I should never even allow myself to greet him, given what the beau monde would think of me.”

Another giggle ran through the shop, and Delilah closed her eyes, feeling heat climb up her spine and rush into her cheeks.

“The stain that would be on my reputation should I allow myself to converse with him,” said the second, an affected tone in her voice, being so dramatic in her judgment upon Delilah that the other ladies giggled uproariously. “Some would give me the cut direct; I am quite sure of it!”

“Mayhap we ought to give that particular lady the cut direct,” said the third, sounding considerably more haughty than before. “Does anyone know her name?”

Delilah winced and tried to make it appear as though she were looking at the items near to her but found that she could not move. A slight trembling was taking a hold of her limbs and she had to put all of her energy into remaining still.

“No,” said one of the ladies, filling Delilah with relief. “No, I do not know her.”

“I am sure someone will be aware of her,” another said. “We shall have to discover her name at the very least, for to dance with Lord Coventry is quite foolish.”

“Mayhap she does not know of his reputation,” said a fifth voice that Delilah had not heard before. “There is, perhaps, a chance to show some kindness here.”

This was met with a moment of silence, only for the other ladies to titter and laugh as though the suggestion were quite ridiculous. Delilah felt an urge to turn around so that she might see the fifth lady, to know whether or not she had been laughing also, realizing how foolish she had been. But she dared not say a word, dared not move for fear that she would be recognized.

“I think the lady needs nothing but a clear resolve from us not to associate with her should she continue to spend time in the company of Lord Coventry,” said the first lady, haughty and determined. “There is no need nor any requirement for kindness, Miss Jamieson.”

Miss Jamieson.

Delilah allowed the name to ring around her mind as she felt a small sense of relief creep over her shame, reminding her that there were, at least, a few within society who would not turn away from her with the same force and disdain as others. There might come a time where she would seek out Miss Jamieson in the hope that the lady would speak to her when no one else would.

“I do not think there is anything in here that I think I shall purchase this afternoon,” said the second voice in a dismissive tone. “Shall we perhaps try Madame Russette?”

Presuming that this was the name of another dressmaker in London, let out a very long breath as she waited for the ladies to depart the shop, feeling her shoulders slowly begin to lower as the door chime rang and the ladies’ voices began to fade. Slowly, she turned around—only to come face to face with a young lady.

Delilah started violently.

The young lady was looking at her with a clear gaze, her eyes fixed and steady. Her mouth was a firm line, and she did not smile. Delilah swallowed hard, lowering her gaze and murmuring a pardon before she began to turn away again.

“You are the lady who danced with Lord Coventry, are you not?”

The voice, Delilah prayed, was the one that belonged to the fifth young lady she had heard talking. Turning around, she looked at the lady again, uncertain as to what to say. If she admitted that yes, she was that particular lady, would the lady laugh