Tobias offered his arm to Maggie and followed his sister and brother-in-law vaguely in the direction of Hyde Park.
Maggie leaned close and whispered. “How did the … meetings go?”
“As well as could be anticipated.”
She frowned at him, and he patted her hand. “It’s fine, Mags.” And it was. Because the person he really wished to work with strolled with them now. He wouldn’t have to interview Henrietta. She knew everything he needed her to know. Yet still, he hesitated. What about an interview of a different kind? He formulated his question carefully before rolling it out. “Tell us what we can expect for Maggie’s new wardrobe, Hen. Will she be wearing Blake Textile’s finest cottons?”
Henrietta tapped her shoulder. “No, actually. I’ve stopped ordering as much from Father.”
Tobias had known that, of course. “Why’s that, sis? Does the paternal cloth come with too many expectations?”
“No. But my clientele wish for something unique. Father’s mill produces bolt after bolt of the same thing.”
Maggie tugged on his arm.
He looked down into wide eyes. Her head nodded rhythmically toward Henrietta with a clear message—ask her!
Tobias swallowed. Not yet. First … “I think I’ll come with Maggie to your shop tomorrow, Hen.”
Henrietta stopped strolling and eyed him suspiciously. “You’re looking drab today, brother. Do you wish to spruce up your own wardrobe?”
“No. I, ah, have my own sources for that sort of thing. Still thinking of expanding into menswear, sis?”
“Not yet. I just need to find the right partner.”
Standing behind Henrietta, Grayson tilted his head to the side and mouthed, Tell her!
Tobias’s palms started to sweat. He would tell her. It was perfect.
Henrietta straightened her military-style pelisse. “It must be a man or woman with impeccable style.” Her smile sparkled before she took Grayson’s arm again and started back toward Hyde Park.
And, damnit, that sparkle seemed too much like laughter. Perhaps Henrietta wouldn’t do after all.
Chapter 23
Maggie felt like she’d stepped inside a duchess’s drawing room. True, she’d never been in such a place, but Henrietta’s spacious and well-lit shop was Maggie’s very idea of it. Styled in what must be the first state of fashion for décor, the space boasted small groupings of chairs and tables placed throughout, a magnificent fireplace at one end of the room, and a row of elegant mirrors lining an opposite wall near the large storefront windows. Small podiums stood before each mirror, waiting for a lady to climb atop and a seamstress to kneel below, adjusting a hem. The shop was empty today but for a few shopgirls, Henrietta, and Maggie.
Trying not to sound like a country bumpkin, Maggie asked, “Where do you keep the fabric? The lace? The trimmings, thread, and needles?”
Henrietta pulled her across the shop and opened a door. An entire wall of the large room bore shelves that housed bolt after bolt of fabric. Maggie saw in the selection the uniform trees of Henrietta’s father’s cotton mill and the vibrant rainbow in the Quinns’ spare room.
A large table took up most of the space in the middle of the room, and light streamed in through a window, almost the size of an entire wall.
Maggie wandered around the room. “I like this one better than the drawing room out front.”
Henrietta smoothed her hand down the table and then flicked the end of a ribbon hanging from a spool. “Me as well. I thought Tobias was accompanying you today.”
“Me as well. He’s promised to come round later and escort me home.” Maggie ran her hand over the back of a wooden chair. “But he’s been odd of late.” Alternately boisterous and silent.
“That means he’s thinking.”
Maggie lifted her head from a pattern of lace. “It does, doesn’t it.” Yes, the pattern fit. “The more ridiculous things he says—”
“The more seriously he’s considering something. It’s a way of protecting himself, I think.”
“Protecting himself? From what?”
Henrietta looked out the window, then pulled a chair from under the table and sat. “I believe I know why he wears the clothes he does.”
