Chapter 3 #2
“Right away, Your Grace!” she exclaimed as she rushed over to lock the door and close the shutters.
She grasped Astara’s hand and urged her toward the back room, where she dumped her off with three shocked women who had been sitting around and working on various projects.
The modiste clapped her hands together urgently.
“Stop what you are doing this instant. We are to focus solely on Miss Smith for the rest of the day.”
The young seamstresses looked stunned at the interruption, but they quickly set into action as various fabrics were tossed toward Astara for the modiste’s review and every single measurement of her body was taken. Or, at least, it seemed that way.
Pins and ribbons and lace were flying and chatter was prevalent all around her while Astara had no choice but to be their mannequin on display.
It seemed as though hours had passed before she was finally allowed time to sit down, but relaxing was apparently not a luxury she was able to have at the moment, because as soon as she was ushered out of the back room, the duke escorted her to more shops along the thoroughfare.
She truly had no idea of the quantity of different accessories that a lady required and by the time the day was over, her head was spinning.
She collapsed in the duke’s carriage, uncaring if she slouched. “I never want to endure that again,” she grumbled.
He lifted a brow. “Not even in the service of God and country?”
“In that regard, I shall request a position within the household rather than above stairs.” She patted her hair, feeling more than a little flustered. “Gracious, but does every woman in the upper ten thousand endure this sort of torture all the time?”
“Most of them prefer it.”
She huffed. “Well, I do not. I shall be perfectly content if I never have to suffer through such a thing ever again.”
* * *
Knox could feel a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He could tell she was visibly overset. But something told him that while choosing between chartreuse or periwinkle ribbons might drive her to distraction, when it came to something truly important, she could be counted upon in a true emergency.
He grudgingly admitted that she was rather entertaining as well.
She might not think herself up to the task of engaging in a society setting, but she was gifted with the ability to converse easily.
She certainly had no issues voicing her opinions to him, and he was quite certain she would not allow anyone to run over her forcefully.
She was capable of holding her own, and he was starting to understand why Scarsdale had decided they could find a particular use for her unique brand of skills.
She patted her hair again and Knox wondered if that was a nervous habit she’d adopted, or if he had been fantasizing about those dark locks, wondering what it would look like tumbling over her shoulders, that he’d invented something that wasn’t present.
He filed that pesky little idea away in his mind as they rolled to a stop in front of her temporary residence.
It had been the home he’d shared with his latest mistress, that Madame Duvall had been kind enough to mention in front of Miss Smith, but after they had recently parted ways and he was in between companions, he had offered it to the Lion’s Watch for however long Miss Smith might be in their employ.
He wasn’t certain he wanted to gain another headache so soon anyway.
Mistresses were generally a boon until they became expensive and needy with their demand for time.
Knox did not wish to be tied down just yet, but at eight and twenty years of age, he knew that his clock was ticking quite rapidly.
He would eventually have to marry and settle down to satisfy his ducal line.
He was trying to stretch out that inevitability later as opposed to sooner, but it was continuing to hang above his head like an axe, ready to fall at any moment.
When the door opened, he stepped to the ground and then was about to turn and offer a hand to Miss Smith when she gathered her skirts and jumped down to the ground on her own.
When she would have walked on, he grasped her arm gently and threaded it through his.
“One thing ladies never do is exit a vehicle without assistance. They allow a gentleman or servant to accompany them and seldom go anywhere on their own.”
She blinked her eyes in an innocent mien. “Hmm. I am beginning to wonder if the ladies in society have the capability to think on their own.”
Knox could feel his mouth yearning to twitch again. “Thinking from the fairer sex is highly discouraged.”
“Is it?” she murmured. “This is bound to be an exciting evening then.”
He allowed the sarcasm to pass as they entered the townhouse.
He made the introductions to the staff who were all highly recommended by the agency.
He thought it best not to use the same servants that his previous paramour had.
It would not earn him any respect from Miss Smith if they became inclined to gossip about the previous tenant.
“Welcome, my lady,” the housekeeper said with a firm nod.
Miss Smith scrunched up her nose. “I am not—”
“From this point forward, until I tell you otherwise, you are,” Knox interjected smoothly. He addressed the footman. “See that tea is brought to the front parlor. The lady and I have some things to discuss.” He allowed his focus to slide back to her. “And it might take some time.”
He could see that Miss Smith did not care for the insinuation in that statement, but she wisely kept her thoughts to herself until they were alone, at which time he expected a thorough tongue lashing. But he did not give her that chance.
The tea arrived in short order, as if waiting for just that command, and the doors to the parlor were closed. Before Miss Smith could utter a word, he sat down and waved a hand that she should do the same. “Pour the tea.”
She gave a huff. “Excuse me?”
“Pour. The. Tea,” he enunciated.
“Is there not a maid for that task?” she scolded.
He yearned to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, or perhaps have a drink and pray for patience would be more apt. “Generally, but it is not out of order for ladies to engage in this task and I want to see if you can do it properly.”
She lifted a brow. She likely meant the action as a rebuke, but he found it rather charming. “It is not that difficult.”
She grabbed the handle of the pot in a firm grip and held on to the lid with her thumb. When she started to lift it, he laid his hand on top of hers. “Wrong.”
With a glare, she said, “Does it really matter how I pour tea so long as the job gets done?”
“It does if you are the hostess or given the distinction,” he said firmly. “Ladies are gentle and delicate. You are acting as though you wish to fling it across the room.”
“Right now…” she grumbled.
He ignored her and repositioned her hand on the handle.
“Hold it easy, like this and then set your hand on the lid with your other hand. Gently tip the spout toward the cup but make sure that it does not clink together. That is in poor form. Also, ensure that your elbow does not fly out from your body. You are not a goose and do not need to appear to fly at your guest. Some prefer to add milk first and then their tea. You should always ask this, as it is considered considerate of your guests.”
“Shall I be doing that much entertaining?” she returned dryly.
He paused. “It depends on how long it takes to complete your mission. I have endured assignments that take a few days to several months. We must be prepared for any eventuality. Considering there is the very likelihood that there is a dangerous spy in our midst, surely focusing on how to pour tea is not so difficult a task if you want the Lion’s Watch to take you seriously as an agent. ”
Finally, she seemed to understand his meaning. “Very well.” She sighed. “But if we are going to a ball tonight is tea the most important thing I should be worrying about? What of the quadrille?”
“You will not be dancing,” he countered.
“But meandering about the room and doing your best to take in snippets of conversation that might be important. There are generally refreshments at hand, so you must know how to properly consume them if you want to be believed. At least you have proper speech and some decorum in your favor. But we shall endeavor to do a bit of practice in that regard as well.” He looked at her steadily, ensuring that she could read the certainty in his gaze.
“Tonight is a test, Miss Smith. It is up to you whether you pass or fail.”