Chapter Nine
Mayfair
London
The bell chimed as Winnie stepped out of Madame Gris’s atelier.
She’d sifted through many fabrics and patterns, patiently had her measurements taken, and happily left the minute details to the creativity of the talented modiste.
She then hurriedly concluded her business and stepped out of the shop, anxious to be on her way.
She’d freed Charles, her cousin, from his boring duty of escorting and protecting her.
She and Charles had been friends since childhood, and she felt guilty that he’d been coerced into babysitting her.
With a kiss on the cheek, she’d dispatched him off to more pleasant activities, promising to meet him for tea at Brown’s at four.
Before he left, she’d patted his hand. “Enjoy your day, Cousin. I grant you freedom from my overbearing grandmama.”
Charles’s boisterous laughter had accompanied his kiss on her cheek. “Please do not invite any trouble. Auntie will tan my hide if anything happens to you.”
“I will do my best not to bring the wrath of Medusa on you.”
Winnie, with her unwavering determination to help the orphans, carried a carpetbag and hailed a hansom cab directing the driver to Bloomsbury in London’s West End.
The trip to London had been foisted on her so suddenly that she could not deliver the funds she’d fleeced off her wealthy targets to the St. Albans children’s hospital.
The orphanage for girls was her pet project and the primary beneficiary of her largesse.
Charles, Grandmama, and Winnie had left Middlesex for London the day after her grandmother’s pronouncement to “pack your bags.” The reason for this sudden departure was Felicia’s grand scheme of matrimony, which Winnie had vehemently protested.
She was forced to abide by Grandmama’s wishes, which included attending Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s ridiculous dinner party and ordering new gowns.
Now that she’d agreed to these terms, she felt it was time to do what she’d dedicated her life to—helping those less fortunate than her.
Winnie had procrastinated long enough and was determined to deliver the money to the Foundling Hospital.
The dressmaking appointment was the perfect opportunity for subterfuge, and she took advantage of the few hours of unsupervised freedom from her grandmother to do just that.
She could not travel to Middlesex and return in time, so she planned to instruct the Foundling Hospital in Bloomsbury to deliver the funds to St. Albans, as the two charities often collaborated.
At least her day would not be a complete waste.
Lex had resigned himself to the cold, hard truth that finding the red-headed beauty was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
He’d made a few discreet inquiries at a few of the better hotels and walked the streets of Mayfair hoping to catch a glimpse of her in one of the shops.
But he’d felt like a silly schoolboy and decided to get a few rounds in at Gentleman Jackson’s Academy on Bond Street.
He needed to vent his frustration with a bit of bare-knuckle boxing.
He hoped that Mrs. Dove-Lyon would consider inviting the enchanting lady to this private dinner party at the Lyon’s Den.
If she didn’t, he would take matters into his own hands.
Although he was financially strapped, he had a few coins to hire a private investigator.
Basil had suggested a good one, who was discreet and did not gouge his clients.
Having sweated his frustrations out, Lex left Jackson’s and walked down Mount Street on his way back to Brown’s Hotel. His mind once again wandered to the beautiful redhead he’d encountered outside Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office.
He tried to fathom why she’d made such an impact on him.
Yes, she was beautiful, but there were plenty of lovely young ladies in the ton whose appearance had no effect on him.
No, there was something else about her. Something unique.
Something that drew him to her. Something that made him want to make her his.
To wake up next to her every goddamn morning for the rest of his life.
God, rot, you’re a desperate wretch. Nothing more than a puppy who has been denied his bone.
If only his earldom weren’t in such a woeful state.
With a proper introduction, he might court her in the manner she was entitled to.
Alas, such was not the case. But a glimmer of hope lit his thoughts.
If it weren’t for the bleak state of his affairs, he wouldn’t be in London, and he never would have met her at all.
Lex stopped momentarily to see a window display of beaver-fur top hats.
He was about to continue down Mount Street when the reflection of a lady emerging from a dressmaking establishment stole his breath and froze him in his tracks.
It was all he could do not to whirl around to view her better.
She was dressed in a long-sleeved, high-waisted gown of lilac muslin that hugged her curvaceous figure, and she wore a woven straw hat decorated simply with goldenrod ribbons that contrasted perfectly with the color of her gown.
From beneath her hat, a few whisps of red hair had come free from her bun, which a sudden gust of breeze made swirl and dance against her cheek.
The enchanting lady quickly tucked the strand behind her ear and scanned the street.
It’s her! He knew it as sure as he knew his own name. The way she moved, the red hair, her luscious figure.
Lex was glad he hadn’t turned around and approached her, as he’d initially been inclined to do.
For the moment, he was curious to see where she was going and why she was alone.
He hadn’t contemplated that she would remain alone for long, and he was utterly taken aback when she hailed a cab, climbed in, and continued down the road.
He knew societal mores frowned on ladies wandering about on the streets of London without an escort. Apparently, the lady was not restrained by the rules of Civilized Society. Which only made him admire her more. He liked her independent spirit.
Impulsively, his curiosity got the best of him, and he hailed another cab coming down the street.
“Follow that hackney if you would, please.”
“Aye, sir. I will do my best.” The jarvey clucked his tongue, and the horses trotted down the road.
The redhead’s cab clipped at a rapid pace. Lex wondered where she might be off to. They were headed toward the West End, away from where shops lined the streets. He remembered the carpetbag she’d been toting. I wonder what she’s up to.
He might have found out if not for the ragamuffin that suddenly darted across the street, causing the horses to stop in their tracks.
He heard the snap of the shaft. The pole that connected the carriage to the horses broke, and the loose horses trotted down the street.
The redhead’s carriage disappeared in the distance.
Of all the luck…
Lex paid the driver and caught another hackney back to Mount Street, where he’d seen the redhead exit a dress shop. His almost encounter would not go to waste. A smile curved his lips as he entered the dress shop. No indeed.
The bell’s chime announced his arrival. He felt fortunate, as there appeared to be no one present other than a woman with dark ringlets behind the counter. She looked up at him, her brows rising, questioning his presence in a lady’s dressmaking shop.
“Can I help you, monsieur?”
Her lilting French accent made him conclude this was none other than Madame Gris, dressmaker extraordinaire, as advertised on the door.
“I think you can. I was supposed to meet a young lady—my cousin. I believe she was here for a dressmaking appointment. I think we might have miscommunicated as to the time of our meeting, and I might have arrived too late and missed her.”
“Oui, Lady Sinclair just left. I’m surprised you did not see her.”
Lady Sinclair… Lex tucked the name away.
“How unfortunate that I just missed her. Grandmama will be most upset.”
Madame Gris studied him with what appeared to be growing curiosity.
Lex did his best not to show any concern over her scrutiny. “Might I trouble you as to when her next fitting will be? Grandmama will insist on it. She wants to be sure to be here for the next appointment, and she is most impatient to find out now, while she is waiting in the carriage.”
The Frenchwoman glanced out the window, and Lex had to conceal his smile at his luck that a fancy black carriage was now stopped across the street.
“Given that the dowager will be paying for the gowns, she would like to see them before they are completed, simply to offer her sage advice.”
Madame Gris nodded, her smile reflecting her eagerness to please.
Of course she would, given that she relied on word of mouth for her reputation.
And she wouldn’t want a crusty old matron to spread rumors about her to her friends.
She swiftly flipped through her appointment book.
“Friday at two p.m., I believe.” She nodded. “Yes, two it is.”
“Excellent. I do appreciate your help, Madame Gris. I assure you, I will mention your kind assistance to both the dowager and my cousin.”
“Yes.” The woman’s lips curled into a coy smile.
“I do aim to please, monsieur. And please convey my best to your grandmother. I think she will also be pleased with the quality of the beautiful gowns I am making for your cousin. Especially the gown for her important dinner on Saturday. Usually, it takes me at least a month to fashion something for such an occasion, but I do this happily because I care about my clients. I do hope you will convey that to your grandmother and tell her that I look forward to seeing her on Friday.”
He smiled politely, but inwardly his blood pumped excitedly at learning that Lady Sinclair was attending an important dinner on Saturday.
So, she was in fact going to be there. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had invited her to attend.
Which meant that perhaps she wasn’t as opposed to a match as she’d led him to believe.
In any case, if the matchmaker was still opposed, he didn’t care.
The thought that he would meet the red-headed beauty again sent anticipation coursing through him.
Her financial situation was becoming increasingly secondary in importance to him.
Yes, he had to marry a woman with a hefty dowry.
But what excited him more was the opportunity to meet her again, to speak with her, to find out more about her.
She was indeed a woman of mystery with a decidedly independent streak, which attracted him even more.
With his spirits buoyed, Lex bade the modiste a good day and left the shop.
Thanks to Basil, he was staying at Brown’s.
His devoted friend had taken a suite of rooms, and Lex had taken the second bedroom.
He resumed his walk back to the hotel, looking forward to sharing his good news with his friend.