“Very well. Where are we going?”
“Does it matter?”
“It affects what I choose to wear,” she tried to explain, shifting cautiously in her seat. If they were to meet friends of his forlunch, then she would have to find a gown in her collection with as few frays and darning patches as possible.
“Do not worry about what you will wear. Put on anything you like.”
She frowned as he took a sip from his wine.
“Why are you keeping tomorrow a mystery?” she asked tightly.
“You shall see. Soon enough.” For the first time, his lips spread into a full and complete smile.
He was utterly transformed now.
When he forgets to be angry or cold with the world, he really can be very handsome indeed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Margaret stepped out of the carriage in the middle of Covent Garden. The air was turning colder, prompting her to pull the pelisse tighter around her shoulders, only it was too thin and worn for this weather.
Walking past were two very finely dressed ladies indeed. They turned in unison, like pigeons with cricked necks, looking toward her. Their beady eyes trailed down her poor pelisse.
Margaret adjusted it, fussing a little before she let her gloved hands fall at her sides. She knew well enough that a little fussing would do very little.
“Tell me something.” Theodore’s voice was much closer than she had anticipated it being.
She turned to find him having dismissed the carriage. He stood beside her, the collar of his frock coat turned up, his breath clouding the air around them.
“What?” she whispered.
“You have spent all this money on improving the house, but as far as I can see, you have not spent a shilling of it on yourself. Why is that?” He frowned deeply. It was such a heavy-set expression that she shifted uncomfortably.
“It is our home,” she murmured, as if that was enough explanation. When Theodore just continued to look at her, she fidgeted a little more and continued. “We can both benefit from our home being made a bit more welcoming.”
He raised his eyebrows, apparently startled by the answer, then strode away.
Amazed, Margaret just stared after him for a beat. There were other couples wandering the streets. Most walked arm in arm, some with staff trailing behind them carrying boxes, but she and Theodore were the exception to the rule. No staff accompanied them, and he clearly had no intention of taking her arm.
He turned back a few strides away and looked back at her. Taking the cue, she hurried to follow him.
“Where are we going?” she asked for what felt like the fifth time already that morning.
“You’ll see, soon enough,” he assured her.
They turned through the center of Covent Garden and the big Palladian market structure. There were a few acquaintances whom Theodore must have known for he nodded at them in passing, though he didn’t once let up his quick pace to talk to them. At the far end of the building, he turned and opened a shop door, gesturing for Margaret to walk inside first.
She stepped up into the shop, then halted just two strides in.
“A modiste?” she whispered in surprise. Every surface was covered in bolts of sumptuous material. It was very different to the modistes that she had attended with her sisters in the past.
They attended poorer modiste’s shops in Cheapside. In those shops, the material wasn’t half so fine, nor so expensive, and neither were there such beautiful dresses on display in the windows and on stands.
“Ah, welcome, welcome, welcome,” an elderly lady bustled forward from a back room, sweeping aside a red velvet curtain. She had creases around her eyes and lips from where she had spent so many years smiling. “Good day to you both. Ah, what a beautiful young lady. A new gown, is it?”
“Anything she wishes for, ma’am,” Theodore said, gesturing to Margaret.
Unable to find words, Margaret’s jaw dropped as she stared at Theodore.
