Alexander strode to investigate. He arrived just as his butler Oswald opened the door to reveal Miss Olive Harper, heiress to and manager of the famous Harper stud farm at the entrance to Cressmouth.
“Happy Christmas, Olive,” said Alexander.
“It’s a dreadful Christmas,” she replied. “I’m going to murder my father. My sworn enemy is here to court me and he didn’t bring any attire suitable for the weather. Is your business partner here? Mayhap he’ll let me borrow the clothes from his manikin. They seem about the right size.”
“If it’s for your sworn enemy,” Alexander said politely, “why not let him suffer his own poor choices?”
Olive let out an aggrieved sigh. “It’s complicated.”
He understood complicated.
“I have entire wardrobes full of prototypes we’ve developed,” he informed her. “I can send over a trunk in no time. How long is your enemy staying?”
“Too long,” Olive answered. “Ten days.”
“Does he need anything else?”
She bit her lip. “Riding boots. If you have them. And he’s rather wide in the shoulders, with thick biceps and defined thigh muscles, if you could ask your tailor to adjust the seams. He’s a large man. Large and... very well shaped.”
Ah. So itwascomplicated.
“I’ll have it sent over at once,” he assured her.
“Thank you.” She looked simultaneously relieved and panicked, as if she suspected this new development might cause her undoing.
Alexander could understand that, too.
She left before he could ask any further questions.
He knew where to find his business partner, Calvin. Alexander’s yellow parlor had been converted into a makeshift workroom, due to its exceptional light. Tailoring projects were piled on every surface.
He sent a pair of footmen to collect the most wintery prototypes from the dressing room, then explained what Olive needed to Calvin.
“Large,” Calvin repeated. “And very well shaped.”
“I believe she mentioned wide shoulders... thick biceps and thigh muscles...”
“‘Sworn enemy,’ she said.” Calvin glanced about at all of the fashions filling the room. “To be clad in the finest men’s apparel ever designed.”
“‘Complicated,’ she said,” Alexander reminded him. “How long do you need?”
“To let out a few seams?” Calvin shrugged. “An hour or two.”
“Thank you. Let me know when you’re finished. I’ll have a footman deliver the trunk.”
At least, thathadbeen the plan.
But two hours later, the clothes were hemmed, the trunk was packed, and there was still no sign of Miss Finch at the party. One shouldn’t have anything to do with the other, but...
“I’ll deliver the trunk,” Alexander announced to his footmen, who looked appropriately aghast.
“I’ll summon a coach,” said the butler.
And Alexander would stare out of the carriage window looking for signs of Miss Finch.
He put on his hat and coat and was halfway to the door when his mother stepped around the corner.
“Vale,” she said in obvious surprise. “Are you going somewhere?”
