Lady Eloise’s mouth tightened. “You think she should have a man do this?”
He was caught. Despite the knowledgeable and capable women in his life—including his mother and Rose—who ran households and other concerns, that was exactly what Robert had meant. “Yes,” he said, his voice dropping. “Or at least someone who does this as his everyday business.”
Unexpectedly, Lady Eloise grinned, which brightened her face and brought a bit of red to her cheeks. She was, indeed, a lovely and captivating woman. “Ah, honesty at last.” She tapped the ledgers with one finger. “She did have, and he was destroying her business—stealing almost all her profits. She is a successful modiste who found herself running short on her payroll each month. She asked me to help. We dismissed him, and I have been doing her books ever since.”
“She has been more than helpful,” Madame Adrienne said, emerging from the back room carrying a large box. “I am able to budget enough to pay my girls a salary instead of by the piece.”
“Dressmaking is feast or famine,” Lady Eloise said. “Lots of money during the season, less during the rest of the year, almost nonexistent in the depth of winter. It meant paying her seamstresses by the piece, which created a need for some of them to, um, supplement their income in other ways.”
Robert knew all too well about those “other ways.” Some of the women employed by Campion’s brothel had been—or still were in some cases—seamstresses. “You keep them off their backs,” he said, his voice solemn.
Both women looked startled, their eyes wide. After a moment, Lady Eloise nodded. “Precisely. I helped her develop a yearly budget, not just month-to-month—”
“Saving for the lean times.”
She nodded, then peered at him closer. “How do you know—”
“I’m familiar with the way a business runs. Why you?”
Madame Adrienne placed the dress box on top of the papers and ledgers. “We have been friends for a long time.”
Robert couldn’t hide his surprise. “A modiste and an earl’s daughter.”
Eloise smiled as she glanced at the dressmaker, her expression filled with affection. “Adrienne’s mother was our head housemaid at one time. My mother has always been generous about providing for the families of our staff. She’d seen what happened when young maids were ruined. So Adrienne was allowed to come to our house when her mother could not make other arrangements. We grew up together.”
“And I knew her head for numbers. She helps her father and mother both with the family books.”
Robert focused on Eloise, trying to imagine for a quick moment Lydia’s reaction to having a housemaid’s illegitimate child underfoot. He couldn’t devise a pleasant scenario for that occurrence, which made his sour mood deepen.
Lady Eloise gave a quick shrug. “My father is an exquisite manager of people. His stewards and tenants adore him. He knows about running a farm and stables and keeping the estate running smoothly.”
Robert filled in the gap. “Not so much with the money.”
She shook her head. “He tells me he’s grateful he believed in educating his daughters as much as his son.”
“His way of thanking you.” He paused. “Why did you tell Madame Adrienne ‘I told you’ when I came in?”
The two women exchanged looks again, both hesitating. Then Madame Adrienne licked her lips. “The dress was scheduled to be delivered to Lady Lydia tomorrow at noon. Her last fitting was this morning, which gave my girls and me plenty of time to finish.” She nodded at Lady Eloise. “My friend was with the lady as her chaperone. She told me to finish by the afternoon. That Lady Lydia would demand it early, in order to prove my loyalty to her, to giving the duke’s household priority over any of my other clients.”
A test.Robert’s sour mood began to evolve into something darker.
“Madame Adrienne isn’t the only one Lydia is demanding proof from, is she?” Lady Eloise’s soft alto carried a gentleness with it.
Robert’s gaze snapped to hers, and she nodded, as if his expression confirmed her words, which Robert supposed it did. “This is what she does, Lord Robert. It’s best you know this now.”
“Why do you act as her chaperone?”
Lady Eloise stilled, her expression unreadable. “Why do you ask?”
“Because the two of you are night and day.”
Madame Adrienne grinned but said nothing, watching her friend.
“You do not know me, sir. In fact, this is the first moment we have spoken.”
“I make a living reading people, Lady Eloise. You are nothing like Lady Lydia.” The words were out before he thought, his brain screeching to a halt the second he heard them.
Neither woman moved for a moment, then Madame Adrienne leaned back, studying him, her expression blooming with curiosity. Noticing her friend’s reaction, Lady Eloise held up a hand, urging the modiste to silence. Her own face remained immobile a few quiet seconds, then her shoulders lifted and her chin dropped as her eyes widened. When she spoke, it felt as if the low timbre of her voice fused into the very marrow of his bones.
