Theodore left it an hour before he returned. He paid a couple of visits to a few business acquaintances he had in town, then headed back to Mrs. Sinclair’s shop to find Margaret nowhere to be seen.
Mrs. Sinclair was holding up a bolt of material for a new customer. When she saw Theodore, she gestured to the red curtain.
“She is back there, Your Grace. Oh, what beautiful dresses I shall be making for the lovely duchess!”
Theodore nodded his thanks then slipped toward the curtain. He swept it aside then stepped back into the fitting area of the shop.
The sound of hurried feet caught his attention.
Margaret stood in the middle of the fitting area, turning back and forth rather frantically. She had three mirrors in front of herand continuously looked at the Pomona green material that was pinned to her figure in every mirror.
Theodore had to tear his gaze away from the pinned material. It revealed flashes of delicate collarbone and rather enticing curves through stays and a chemise.
Be a gentleman, Theodore.
His gaze shot to her face. She was biting her lip, with great concern, turning back and forth, completely unable to settle.
“What is wrong?” he asked, his voice low.
She jumped, spinning around fast, nearly knocking over one of the mirrors as she nudged it with her elbow. She caught it in a fumble as he ran forward to catch her, his hands on her arms. They ended up in a fumble of hands and arms together.
“Theo!” she hissed. “I cannot wear this.”
“Whyever not?” He moved her, directing her softly so that she stood in front of the mirror, with him behind her. “The dress is very beautiful. Once Mrs. Sinclair finishes it, of course.”
“This is too much,” she murmured in panic.
“Why is it?”
“I am not used to dresses such as these. To material like this.” She threaded her fingers through the Pomona green skirt. “Spend your money elsewhere, Theo, please. Do not spend it on me like this.”
She lowered her head, looking down at her feet with her hands on her hips.
Enough of this.
A rage bubbled in Theodore’s stomach, though it was not directed at Margaret. It was directed at her father.
Even if her father had never had the money to spoil his daughters, surely any man worth his salt would have spent what money he did have on looking after his daughters, on ensuring they had decent clothes to stand in. The prospect of money being spent on Margaret was so unusual to her, she was panicking, unsure how to accept the kindness.
This changes now.
“Maggie, it is too beautiful to leave in this shop. And as for the money spent on it, that is not a thing we should worry about. I have the money for a few gowns. It’s the least of my worries.”
“It is still too much –”
“If anything, it’s not enough.” His voice was a little harsh. It startled her so much, she looked up, meeting his gaze in themirror. He felt a little breathless at the strength in that green gaze.
She really is very beautiful, even if she often hangs her head to hide it.
“You best get used to having things bought for you every now and then, Maggie. It’s not too much, and it’s not a big thing.” He raised his hands and adjusted the material on her shoulders a little, for it had become ruffled as he had caught her to stop her falling over.
One of the curls of her hair had fallen loose from her updo. Finding it was a fantasy that he too badly wanted to live, he brushed the curl behind her ear, letting his fingers trail momentarily across her neck.
She inhaled sharply, but she didn’t pull away.
Their gazes connected once again in the mirror. It was a moment of pure excitement. Something passed between them, though Theodore couldn’t have put his finger on what it was.
It is merely… something exciting.
