Freddie’s grin was as wide as Prinny’s arse, and Alex knew he’d never hear the end of this. Freddie turned toward the shop, then, as if to prove just how much he relished the moment, said, “Jealous, old boy? Looks like I’ve set up Selbourne’s bristles, don’t it, Miss Dashing?” He winked at Lucia and turned the knob on Schweitzer & Davidson’s, holding the door open.
“I’ll get you back for this,” Alex said as he passed Freddie.
Freddie laughed. “I can’t wait.”
LUCIA STEPPED INTO the shop and moved blindly forward. Her heart was still racing, and the blood thudded in her ears. The skin of her earlobe tingled where Alex’s lips had brushed against her, his sultry breath sending shivers dancing across her flesh with each sinful whisper.
Her knees had wobbled, a moan threatened to escape her traitorous throat . . . and then Dewhurst had appeared. But it was only when Alex snatched her hand from Dewhurst that her thoughts returned to some semblance of order. Selbourne’s sudden solicitousness confused her. Five minutes before, his gray eyes had been hard as pewter, his voice icy as he’d scolded her for her so-called interference.
And then, without warning, he was all heat and fire, turning her indignation to something else—something she couldn’t quite define.
Alex squeezed her elbow now, and she blinked, taking in the bright, airy shop for the first time. She’d always pictured men’s tailors as dark and musty. But Schweitzer & Davidson was neat and orderly—the bolts of material stacked and straight and the ready-made items arranged in an efficient display. Lucia slowed, this aspect of male private life new and intriguing to her. She felt as though she were peering into Pandora’s box or tasting the forbidden fruit.
Like a naughty child, she peeked over her shoulder. Dewhurst was closing the door behind them, and she relaxed when she saw there were no other customers inside. A young clerk with a shock of blond hair popped out from behind a counter. “Good afternoon!” His voice was high and overly eager. He bounced around the counter, hands clasped together in eagerness. Where were the stoop-shouldered old men with the thick spectacles and gnarled hands? The towheaded clerk hardly seemed older than she.
“Lord Dewhurst!” The clerk’s pale features brightened. “My lord, you’ve returned.”
Dewhurst stepped forward. “And I’ve brought companions, Pimms.” He gestured to Lucia. “This is the Honorable Miss Dashing.”
Pimms bowed. “Miss Dashing.”
“And you know Selbourne.” Dewhurst made a sweeping gesture toward Alex.
“I do, yes. Lord Selbourne, always a pleasure.” But the tone of his voice seemed to say it was anything but. The clerk turned back to Dewhurst. “How may I assist you today, my lords?”
“We are trying to find—” Lucia began, but Alex squeezed her arm almost painfully. She glanced at him in time to see the tic in his jaw and the warning in his eyes.
Before she could say another word, Dewhurst stepped in front of her. “Woke up this morning and simply had to have a new waistcoat,” the dandy said, waving his arms expressively. “Wilkins, my man, brought out waistcoat after waistcoat this morning, and all were simply beneath my touch. Well, I need not explain to you, sir, my state of high dudgeon.”
“Oh, no, my lord. I perfectly understand.” The clerk nodded fervently. “But I fear the pink waistcoat with that fashionable stand collar you ordered last week is not yet ready.”
Lucia rolled her eyes. Pink waistcoat? Why was Alex wasting precious time shopping for Dewhurst’s fripperies and foibles? “Selbourne,” she muttered as Dewhurst went on, his voice rising as he warmed to his topic. “What are we doing here? Don’t you think—”
“Freddie,” Selbourne said. “Get to the point. I don’t have all day.”
Lucia stared. She hadn’t expected such an easy victory.
“All right. Don’t get snappish on me, old boy.” Dewhurst swiveled back to the tailor, who was now frowning at Alex. “As I was saying, Pimms.” He shot Alex a dark look. “I thrust aside waistcoat after waistcoat this morning until, finally, a notion entered my brain.”
“That must have been a novel experience,” Alex muttered, and Lucia covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Dewhurst cleared his throat and ignored the barb. “And not a bad notion at that, if I do say so myself.” Dewhurst chuckled, obviously pleased with himself. “A few months ago I saw a splendid waistcoat—splendid, I tell you—worn by Mr. John Dashing.”
Lucia’s head shot up, and she dropped her hand to her side.
“I simply must have one. Selbourne here saw the waistcoat as well and assured me Schweitzer & Davidson were the tailors.”
Lucia turned to Alex. He gave her a cursory nod, looking both bored and annoyed.
“Not that I’m surprised,” Dewhurst added. “Always say that Schweitzer & Davidson outfit all the swell of the first stare.”
The clerk puffed out his chest at the compliment. Lucia turned back to Alex. He raised a brow, and she frowned. Dewhurst was lying, and Alex’s nod of agreement involved him in the lie as well. Alex and her brother were not in the same set, and the idea of the two of them discussing a waistcoat was ridiculous. Not to mention, Alex had been out of the country.
“Thank you, my lord,” the clerk was saying. “Schweitzer & Davidson would be honored to make you the waistcoat. If you could just describe it to me? Mr. Dashing has ordered so many, you understand?”
Lucia snorted. Her brother was no dandy. His morning toilette consisted of reaching into his wardrobe, latching on to an item of clothing, and haphazardly pulling it out. But she saw what the men were doing now. The clerk obviously had no idea what waistcoat Dewhurst referred to, and no wonder, as Selbourne and Dewhurst had fabricated the entire scenario. But she had to admit it was as good a strategy as any for acquiring the information they needed.
“You don’t know the waistcoat I mean?” Dewhurst said, hand fluttering at his snowy cravat.
