He groaned. “I’ll never get away with being Mr. Munford if all of you keepmy lording me.”
“Sorry, my . . .” Tidwell at least looked abashed. “Mr. Munford, sir, I have directions to a tailor and the printer. I suggest you take care of both those errands as soon as possible.”
How was it Tidwell managed to appear cool even in this heat? “First I want a bath and a shave. This beard itches.”
The valet gave a slight bow. “The bath is on its way.” He glanced at Andrew. “For Mr. Grayson as well.”
Andrew closed his eyes as if anticipating bliss. “Thank you, Tidwell. You’ve answered my prayers. Blyton, make sure the razor is sharp. Mr. Munford isn’t the only one who needs a shave.”
“Andrew,” Will asked, “when do you want to visit Wivenly Imports?”
“While you are running errands, I’ll make Mr. Howden’s acquaintance on the pretense of buying the business.”
“I’ll be interested to hear his response.” Will wouldn’t be satisfied untilhestraightened out whatever mess he found his uncle’s company in, if indeed there was a problem at all. “Once we know the lay of the land, I’ll switch back into myself and meet the widow.”
“Marisole,” Eugénie called to her maid, “are you ready yet?”
“I would be if you were. I’m getting your bonnet, miss. I know you did not.”
Eugénie twisted her lips into a rueful smile as her maid stepped out of the dressing room. “I do not suppose we could forget it.”
“Non.”Marisole pulled a face. “Even Dorat mentioned it to me.”
“We certainly do not want Maman’s dresser involved. Very well, give it to me.” Eugénie took the broad-brimmed hat from her maid, placed it on her head, and tied the wide black ribbon off to the side of her chin. “There, are you happy?”
Marisole looked critically at Eugénie. “Now you’re ready. Dorat is correct, you know. You are almost dark enough to be a mulattress, and that gray gown does you no favors.”
“That cannot be helped. I am in mourning.” Eugénie glanced into the mirror and had to acknowledge her maid was right. Between her tan and the dull gown, she appeared older than her one-and-twenty years. Black might have been a better hue, but her mother insisted she go into half mourning. She pulled on her silk knit gloves and took the parasol from her maid.
“Dorat says that you are no longer in mourning and should wear colors again.”
Eugénie ignored her maid. Herbeau-papawas the only father she’d ever known, and if she wanted to continue to mourn him, she would. Papa would understand.
Half-way down the step street to town, a gloved hand grabbed her arm.
Her friend Cicely Whitecliff took a breath. “Stop. I waved, but you walked right past. What are you in such a brown study about, and where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Sorry.” Eugénie gave a rueful smile. “I was just thinking.” An inkling of an idea crept into her mind. She couldn’t put Marisole’s position at risk by asking her to help, but Cicely would be perfect. She knew everything there was about the shipping business. “I’m going to buy some ribbon. Would you like to come with me?”
“Yes, that is my destination as well.” She linked arms with Eugénie. “The ships will soon cease arriving for a couple of months. I don’t wish to take the risk of running out.”
Which meant that any other lady needing pale blues, pinks, or white would be out of luck until November. “I’m glad we don’t wear the same colors. I’d never find what I need.”
When they got to Kongens Gade they turned right. Eugénie needed to put her plan in place soon. She lowered her voice. “I need to speak to you alone.”
“I take it you don’t want Marisole to overhear?”
“Exactly. What she does not know cannot hurt her.”
“Well, then”—Cicely glanced back at the maid—“come to my chambers on our way back home. Marisole can chat with my maid, and you and I shall have a comfortable coze.”
“Thank you.” Eugénie squeezed her friend’s arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Cicely smiled. “You need never find out.”
A weight slid from Eugénie’s shoulders. At least she wasn’t in this alone anymore.
Several minutes later they entered the haberdasher’s shop. As she had suspected, the stock was already low. She’d just finished paying for her purchase, when Cicely gasped.
