Page 18 of An Earl Like You (Games Earls Play #6)

Chapter

Nine

“ M y dear girls, welcome to the jewel of Mayfair.” Lady Fosberry waved her hand with a flourish. “It’s magnificent, is it not?”

“Magnificent, and enormous, my lady.” Sarah clutched Lady Fosberry’s arm. “Why, there must be hundreds of shops inside!”

“Don’t be silly, child.” Lady Fosberry gave Sarah’s hand a fond pat. “There aren’t hundreds. I believe there are only seventy-two at present.”

“Seventy-two! Just think of all the silks and gloves and ribbons! And the hats—my goodness, my lady, the hats! I’d come here every single day if I lived in London, and I’d wear a different hat each time.”

Hattie had heard of Burlington Arcade, of course. Everyone in England knew of it. But hearing about a thing and seeing it with one’s own eyes were quite different experiences.

She’d never imagined it could be as grand as this.

They were standing at the north end of the building, on Burlington Gardens Street.

Above them was an elegant trio of arches, each adorned with its own ornate gas lantern suspended from the center, and fashionable crowds of ladies and gentlemen roamed in and out of the pretty wrought iron gates underneath.

She’d never been fond of shopping—laces and ribbons and other fripperies bored her, but Burlington Arcade was a far cry from the tiny High Street in Chatham, and even she wasn’t immune to the tantalizing glimpses of finery displayed behind endless sheets of polished glass.

“It’s a lucky thing you don’t live in London, Sarah, or our brother would end his days in the poorhouse.” Margaret gave Sarah an indulgent smile. “Where shall we go first?”

“Let me think. We need new gowns for each of you, along with new stockings, slippers and gloves, and a jeweled headband for Sarah, and a wrap for Hattie. The one you’ve brought from Kent won’t do for Lady Dumfries’s ball, dear.

” Lady Fosberry tapped a gloved finger to her lips.

“There’s only one place that will do. Follow me, girls. ”

Lady Fosberry led them under the splendid arches and into the covered marble walkway. A slice of bright blue sky—rare for London in the spring—peeked through the glass roof above them, and for the first time since they’d left Lady Farthingale’s garden party, Hattie’s spirits lifted.

She had a dozen misgivings about their continued presence in London. Misgivings about lying to Johnathan, and about Lady Laetitia and her dreadful mother. Misgivings about Sarah and Lord Hayward, and Margaret and Lord Pembroke, and misgivings about Cass.

Dozens upon dozens of misgivings about Cass, and most particularly about his kiss.

She pressed her fingers to her lips, her cheeks heating at the memory of his mouth on hers. She’d kissed Cass. She’d kissed Cass, and the only thing that had been strange about it was that it hadn’t felt strange, at all.

Although to be strictly truthful, Cass had kissed her , not the other way around, but it wasn’t as if she’d pushed him away, was it? No, she’d most decidedly returned his kiss. Returned it with ardor, even, which was…well, a trifle embarrassing, really.

Not so embarrassing she wouldn’t do it again, if the opportunity arose.

But if there was one place in London where a lady could put her worries behind her, it was at Burlington Arcade, especially with Sarah stopping to gasp at every glittering storefront.

“Madame Céline will take good care of us.” Lady Fosberry swept along the path with her arm linked with Sarah’s.

“Madame Céline is all the rage in London this season, but she always makes time for me. There isn’t another modiste with a more elegant taste than Madame Céline.

Do come along, Sarah. We’ll never get there if you insist on stopping at every shop. ”

Lady Fosberry took them deep into the arcade, past endless shops and around dozens of corners until the maze ended at last at an enormous glass window with La Maison des Dames in gold script scrolling across the front of it.

“Here we are, girls.” She marched up to a long, polished glass counter where an elegant, dark-haired shopgirl was sorting silk ribbons. “Aimée, please tell Madame Céline I’m here with my charges to see them outfitted for Lady Dumfries’s ball.”

“Of course, my lady. Right away.” Aimée smiled at them and hurried out from behind the counter. “Madame Céline is busy with Lady Tremblay and her daughter, but I’ll tell her you’re here. It won’t be but a moment.”

“Goodness, Lady Tremblay is the bad penny that keeps turning up, is she not, girls? Well, no matter. Shall we amuse ourselves with the ribbons until Madame Céline is available?”

Sarah and Margaret followed Lady Fosberry to the counter, but Hattie didn’t have much interest in ribbons, so she wandered over to the plate glass window to look at a display of enormous ostrich plumes that had been dyed a most decadent purple, but she soon gave it up in favor of peeking at the fashionable people wandering by on the other side of the glass.

The ostrich plumes were the perfect cover from which to spy on them.

As it happened, there was a gentleman’s tailor just opposite Madame Céline’s shop. It was a formidable looking place, and frighteningly distinguished, with a smart store front done up in bottle green paint with “Gentleman’s Sundries” written across the window in black lettering.

By the looks of it, every gentleman in London—young and old, plain and handsome, some in breeches and others in pantaloons, some wearing Hoby boots and others in Wellingtons—every sort of gentleman one could imagine seemed to have an urgent need of tailoring this afternoon.

There was even a gentleman who looked very much like…

Like the Earl of Windham.

She let out a little squeak, freezing in place for an instant like a frightened rabbit, but thankfully her wits returned in time for her to duck behind a pair of towering plumes, these ones dyed a shockingly bright pink.

It was ridiculous to hide from him, of course—she wasn’t a child, for pity’s sake—but what did a lady say to a gentleman who’d so thoroughly kissed her only days earlier? Particularly if said lady had been dreaming about that kiss since it happened?

It was much easier to hide, but alas, cowardice was always its own punishment, wasn’t it?

The door to Madame Céline’s opened just then and a group of chattering ladies entered, slamming the door behind them and setting the pink plumes aflutter. The movement caught Cass’s attention as he passed, and it was all over for her, then.

He spied her at once, stopped, and then…

Then he did something she didn’t expect.

He smiled at her. That wasn’t so astonishing, although she’d had precious few of Cass’s smiles since she’d arrived in London. It was the texture of it, the way it swept from his mouth to his eyes in an instant, as if it had taken over his face before he had a chance to think better of it.

This wasn’t the arrogant Earl of Windham’s smile. It was the grin she remembered from the brief summer they’d spent together. Wide, friendly, artless, and a touch mischievous…

It was Cass’s smile.

She was helpless against that smile. Unbidden, an answering grin curved her lips, and they stood there grinning at each other through the glass like a pair of fools until Cass regained his senses and entered the shop.

“Shopping for feathers Lady Harriet?” He raised an eyebrow at the pair of pink monstrosities. “Dear God, I’ve never seen such bright plumes in my life. They’re rather terrifying.”

“They are, indeed. Enormous, as well. What does one do with such large plumes, do you suppose?”

“Put them on ladies’ hats, I believe, but I don’t think…” He glanced from the plumes to her face, his lips twitching. “But I don’t think these particular plumes will suit you, Lady Harriet.”

“No, they’re far too grand for me. I’m not partial to plumes, in any case.”

“But a bonnet must have the proper trimmings, mustn’t it? How about these, instead?” He plucked a slender egret feather dyed a deep blue from a display of feathers in a glass jar. “How about this one? It’s much daintier than the other, and this blue is the exact shade of your eyes.”

He hadn’t meant to say it. That was evident by the way his eyes widened as soon as the words left his lips, and his cheeks…goodness, was he blushing? Cassian Fitzgerald, the Earl of Windham, blushing ?

No, surely not. She must be imagining it.

She took the feather to have a closer look, then shook her head, and dropped it back into the jar.

“It’s very pretty, and just the sort of feather I’d choose if I wore feathers at all, but I’m content with plain ribbons, my lord.

They’re not as dramatic as ostrich plumes.

I’m afraid I’m quite dull, but plain ribbons suit me. ”

“They do,” he murmured, his dark gaze searching her face. “And you’re not dull, Hattie. Indeed, it’s just the opposite. There’s not a single thing about you that isn’t engaging.”

Did Cass truly find her engaging? She opened her mouth to ask him, but thankfully he interrupted her before she could embarrass herself with such a ridiculous question.

“So, Lady Harriet, how does your brother do?”

“My brother?” What did Johnathan have to do with anything?

“Yes. Lord Melrose.” Cass’s eyes were twinkling. “You do remember him, do you not?”

“Of course, I?—”

“I trust he and Lady Melrose had a pleasant trip from Kent?”

Oh, no . “Er, yes, very pleasant. He’s…ah, that is, he and Lady Melrose are very well.”

“Wonderful! Then I’ll call on him tomorrow morning, shall I?”

“No, tomorrow won’t do. He’s…they…we’re…that is, we’re?—”

“Hattie?”

“Yes?”

“Lord and Lady Melrose aren’t coming to London, are they?”

Dash it. “No.”

“No. I thought not.” He stepped closer to her, his gaze dropping to her lips. “I’ve told you before, Hattie. You’re a dreadful liar.”