squinted up at her. “Your features call for jewel tones. A deep bronze would bring out the red in your hair. As would an emerald green or a marine blue.”
Just as Ellie hoped, the woman proceeded to regale her with advice on fabrics and trimmings, successfully averting a lecture on Ellie’s marital prospects—or lack thereof. By the time she’d tried on a series of Beatrice’s gowns and waited through all the hemming, Ellie and Mrs. Peebles were friends, and the woman offered to sell Ellie a swath of jade-green silk at a fraction of its cost.
Ellie gratefully accepted the brown-paper parcel. Though it would make a dent in her savings, the fabric would provide a welcome alternative to remaking one of the countess’s ugly gowns. With warm thanks, she promised to return on the following day with her payment.
Unless, of course, a miracle happened and her uncle paid for it. But Ellie wouldn’t hold her breath over that.
Upon emerging from the shop, she paused in surprise to see that dusk had fallen and only a few shoppers remained on Bond Street. The afternoon hours had passed so enjoyably that she had quite forgotten the time. A cold rain had begun to sprinkle, and she drew up the hood of the cloak that she’d borrowed from her cousin.
Grasping the parcel strings in one hand, Ellie started on the short walk to Hanover Square. She now regretted wearing Lady Milford’s pretty slippers. Not because they hurt her feet—indeed, they felt like walking on air—but when she’d departed home early in the afternoon, there had been no sign of stormy weather. From the ominous look of these black clouds, she worried that a downpour could ruin the shoes.
Her head bent against the icy droplets, she hurried past shop windows that glowed yellow with lamplight. Home lay only a brisk ten-minute walk away. Nevertheless, it would have been pleasant to be ensconced inside one of the many passing carriages, wheels rattling and hoofs clopping, while she relaxed in warm luxury.
Had Beatrice returned to Pennington House? Ellie was anxious to discover how the visit had gone and if, after all, her cousin had managed to charm the Duke of Aylwin. Despite her silly naïveté, Beatrice was a beautiful girl, and even the most bookish of gentlemen would find it hard to resist adoring blue eyes and a fresh, lovely face.
Would Walt be at home, too?
Shuddering, Ellie recalled the scene from the previous night that she’d pushed from her mind all day. He had pawed her bosom in the most shockingly obscene manner. Should she tell her uncle? No, Walt would only deny it, and Uncle Basil wasn’t likely to believe her word over that of his son. She would just have to be more careful to avoid Walt until she sold her book and could afford to move away …
At the end of the block, Ellie turned the corner and, in her haste, bumped into a maidservant coming from the other direction. The girl dropped her basket and apples spilled over the wet pavement.
“Oh!” Ellie exclaimed. “I’m ever so sorry.” Immediately, she bent down to help the girl retrieve the fruit.
While reaching for an apple that had rolled into the street, she happened to notice a man stepping out of a black coach a short distance away. He was a hulking fellow in a greatcoat and a hat with a curled brim pulled low over his shadowy face.
Ellie froze in a crouch with her fingers curled around the apple. Was it just her imagination, or did he bear an uncanny resemblance to the stranger who’d been eyeing Beatrice the previous day?
As he glanced in Ellie’s direction, her heart slammed in heavy strokes. Yes, it was him. She recognized those harshly chiseled features. Then he strode toward one of the lighted shops, opened the door, and disappeared inside.
Ellie shivered from a chill that had little to do with the frigid dampness of the weather. Rising, she handed over the last apple and gave a distracted smile in answer to the maidservant’s stammered words of appreciation.
Just as Ellie hoped, the woman proceeded to regale her with advice on fabrics and trimmings, successfully averting a lecture on Ellie’s marital prospects—or lack thereof. By the time she’d tried on a series of Beatrice’s gowns and waited through all the hemming, Ellie and Mrs. Peebles were friends, and the woman offered to sell Ellie a swath of jade-green silk at a fraction of its cost.
Ellie gratefully accepted the brown-paper parcel. Though it would make a dent in her savings, the fabric would provide a welcome alternative to remaking one of the countess’s ugly gowns. With warm thanks, she promised to return on the following day with her payment.
Unless, of course, a miracle happened and her uncle paid for it. But Ellie wouldn’t hold her breath over that.
Upon emerging from the shop, she paused in surprise to see that dusk had fallen and only a few shoppers remained on Bond Street. The afternoon hours had passed so enjoyably that she had quite forgotten the time. A cold rain had begun to sprinkle, and she drew up the hood of the cloak that she’d borrowed from her cousin.
Grasping the parcel strings in one hand, Ellie started on the short walk to Hanover Square. She now regretted wearing Lady Milford’s pretty slippers. Not because they hurt her feet—indeed, they felt like walking on air—but when she’d departed home early in the afternoon, there had been no sign of stormy weather. From the ominous look of these black clouds, she worried that a downpour could ruin the shoes.
Her head bent against the icy droplets, she hurried past shop windows that glowed yellow with lamplight. Home lay only a brisk ten-minute walk away. Nevertheless, it would have been pleasant to be ensconced inside one of the many passing carriages, wheels rattling and hoofs clopping, while she relaxed in warm luxury.
Had Beatrice returned to Pennington House? Ellie was anxious to discover how the visit had gone and if, after all, her cousin had managed to charm the Duke of Aylwin. Despite her silly naïveté, Beatrice was a beautiful girl, and even the most bookish of gentlemen would find it hard to resist adoring blue eyes and a fresh, lovely face.
Would Walt be at home, too?
Shuddering, Ellie recalled the scene from the previous night that she’d pushed from her mind all day. He had pawed her bosom in the most shockingly obscene manner. Should she tell her uncle? No, Walt would only deny it, and Uncle Basil wasn’t likely to believe her word over that of his son. She would just have to be more careful to avoid Walt until she sold her book and could afford to move away …
At the end of the block, Ellie turned the corner and, in her haste, bumped into a maidservant coming from the other direction. The girl dropped her basket and apples spilled over the wet pavement.
“Oh!” Ellie exclaimed. “I’m ever so sorry.” Immediately, she bent down to help the girl retrieve the fruit.
While reaching for an apple that had rolled into the street, she happened to notice a man stepping out of a black coach a short distance away. He was a hulking fellow in a greatcoat and a hat with a curled brim pulled low over his shadowy face.
Ellie froze in a crouch with her fingers curled around the apple. Was it just her imagination, or did he bear an uncanny resemblance to the stranger who’d been eyeing Beatrice the previous day?
As he glanced in Ellie’s direction, her heart slammed in heavy strokes. Yes, it was him. She recognized those harshly chiseled features. Then he strode toward one of the lighted shops, opened the door, and disappeared inside.
Ellie shivered from a chill that had little to do with the frigid dampness of the weather. Rising, she handed over the last apple and gave a distracted smile in answer to the maidservant’s stammered words of appreciation.
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