It was masterful work that immediately made Kitty envious.
“Miss Carter?” the man asked in a bemused tone. “I received your invitation to visit and supposed you might suit my companion, Miss Griffith.” He removed an envelope from his breast pocket. The same one she had penned the previous night in a fury.
The Viscount Grayson and Miss Griffith.
There was a lord in her shop.
Her mouth was open. She slammed it shut and met the man’s gaze.
In that instant, it was like a bolt of lightning had struck her where she stood. His lush lips curved in a smile. The cream folds of his cravat framed his face perfectly, accentuating the unusually sharp angles of his face. There was something so familiar about him, but when she tried to recall where they might have met, he temple ached.
“Lord Grayson.” Kitty bobbed a curtsey, hardly believing she was in the presence of a viscount. “Yes, of course, my lord. I would be pleased to assist with anything Miss Griffith requires.”
The woman laughed, a shrill sound that sent shivers down Kitty’s back.
“We’ll see about that,” Miss Griffith said. She looked around the shop and curled her lip. “I am quite particular.” She removed a folded sheet of paper from her pocket and held it out. “I require these garments to start.”
Kitty gulped, then accepted the paper. As she unfolded it, she uttered a silent prayer that the woman was not so demanding that she would drive Kitty out of business. But when she read the list of items on the page, something that had tightened inside her when the couple had entered her shop relaxed.
“This will not be a problem,” Kitty said. “If you would return tomorrow morning, I can—”
“No,” Lord Grayson said sharply. “Miss Griffith can only accommodate late-night fittings. Her schedule, you understand.”
The dirty look Miss Griffith gave Lord Grayson suggested otherwise, but that was not something Kitty would remark upon.
“Ah, well, I suppose that is acceptable.” She was stumbling over her words. To reassert control over the situation, she smiled and gestured Miss Griffith toward an open door on the other side of her shop. A private dressing room. “If you would make yourself comfortable, I can take your measurements, and my assistant can bring fabric samples.”
As the woman lifted her chin and strolled away, Kitty raised her voice and called out, “Alyssa! Bring the swatches.”
It took more than a minute for Alyssa to rush out of the back room. Her curly, black hair was shoved beneath a white cap and her upturned nose was smudged with soot. The way she yawned told Kitty she had likely been napping in her room again. Alyssa was a skilled seamstress when she could stay awake long enough to finish a project.
Alyssa grabbed a stack of booklets from a shelf along the wall, then juggled them in her arms as she rushed toward Kitty.
“Did you finish repairing Mrs. Ernestine’s shawl?” Kitty asked.
Alyssa tucked her chin to her chest. “I apologize, Miss Carter. I intended to finish, but the warmth of the fire and—” She shook her head. “No, that doesn’t matter. You told me this before. No excuses. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll get back to work.”
At least the girl was learning. Kitty selected three of the books of samples, then waved the girl on. Alyssa wasn’t the most reliable assistant, but she was excellent with customers. Kittyknew she would get along great with the prickly Miss Griffith. Unlike Kitty, Alyssa had what seemed to be endless patience.
“I’m impressed,” Lord Grayson said.
Having completely forgotten the man was there, Kitty spun around, hand at her throat. That was when she saw it. A sheer bit of fabric wrapped around his neck, nearly hidden by the folds of his cravat but immediately recognizable by the embroidered yellow-and-white daisies.
It was Kitty’s scarf. Mrs. Julien’s gift. Stolen by a stranger at the market. Now gracing the neck of a lord.
“Where did you get that scarf?” Kitty asked, entirely forgetting to consider how rude her words would sound.
“This?” He ran his fingers along his neck, then down his chest. Kitty couldn’t tear her gaze away. “Perhaps you should look closer,” he added.
It was as if he had looped the scarf around her waist and tugged. She could not stop herself from taking several halting steps until she stood directly in front of the viscount, who was tall enough that her head was in line with his neck.
There was no mistaking the carefully stitched daisies. It was Mrs. Julien’s gift. How had Lord Grayson come upon it? Also, hadn’t his eyes been brown a moment earlier, rather than a startling shade of blue?
She had definitely seen those eyes before, but the memory floated beneath the surface of her mind, sinking deeper every time she reached for it.
“You recognize me, don’t you?” He twined his fingers with hers. “Extraordinary. You are more gifted than I realized.”
She should have resisted, squirmed out of his grasp, and insisted he release her. At any moment, another customer could walk through the door. Worse, Miss Griffith might see them and take issue with Kitty being so close to her employer and the man who was paying for her dresses.
