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“Yes, it is,” said Dara longingly. “Very well. Keep the buttons.” She handed over the coin, leaving tuppence in her purse, just enough to tip the ostler.
She hastened out of the shop. As the door closed, she heard the two women whoop at her expense. She was on the cusp of marching back in and demanding an apology when she spotted somebody across the street. A familiar face of a man and he was staring right at her. She turned on her heel and in her eagerness, she stepped into a puddle. The water splashed her skirts.
A passing stranger smirked.
Her humiliation was not finished, it seemed. She had to walk to the inn with mud splattered on her gown, her cheeks red-hot with shame and the realisation she had seen somebody she should not have done.
* * *
Matthew watched her stumble down the street, her scarf unwinding, her dress splattered with mud. She was a pitiful creature when distressed. Clearly, something had gone wrong in the shop she’d visited. He sighed, disheartened by her decision to defy him. He was especially worried by her expression prior to her scampering off—it was a look of alarm and possibly fear. Who had upset her?
Seated in the bay window of the Green Man tavern, Matthew had a good view of the street and passers-by. He had finished his ale and while drinking it, he’d spied Dara enter the shop, then less than fifteen minutes later, she left again. Whoever she had seen was further along the road, possibly outside of the bank. He ought to go see whether it was a person of importance. Rising, he left a few pennies on the table for his favourite barmaid and picked up his travel bag.
Dara had disappeared around the corner. He paid particular care to check that she had not been followed, and satisfied she had not, he walked back up the street. There was a small trap with a pony outside the bank bearing the coat of arms of the Coleman family; however, there was no sign of Lord Coleman. Matthew would be surprised to see his lordship travel in so lowly a vehicle. Standing on the corner, partially hidden by a tree, Matthew waited. Two people left the bank; one was a footman in livery, the other, going by his frock coat and age, the butler carrying a money bag—probably the staff wages. They settled into the trap and the waiting groom picked up the reins.
Matthew caught a whisper of the conversation. “You were mistaken, Paul. Her ladyship is not about town. She’s up north,” said the formidable butler.
“The lady had a likeness to her, I’m sure,” said the footman.
“I did not see her.”
“Although, she was dressed like a cow maid. She looked right at me and went scarlet.”
The butler chuckled. “Take that as a compliment. You’re a fine-looking man. This town is full of pretty young maids wanting to marry. You should come back and woo her.”
Paul’s ears turned pink. “I’ve set my sights on Joan, and you know that, sir.”
The groom gave the pony a whistle and the wheels began to turn.
Matthew strolled across the street and entered the haberdashers.
“Good day,” he said to the old shopkeeper.
“Master Denzel, what brings you in ‘ere,” she said.
“I’m trying to locate my niece. She said she was visiting here today.” A niece whom he’d never brought to town before now would not raise much suspicion. His father’s side was littered with aunts and uncles, cousins and the like. “She’s so high and wearing a checked scarf.”
“Oh, her. Aye, she left a few minutes ago.” She leaned across the counter. “A bit short of pennies. She wanted to buy these buttons, but couldn’t afford the money. Asked for an account, but I had to refuse. Now, if I’d known she was your kin, I would have given her the benefit, but she didn’t say her name.”
“Which buttons?” Matthew dug into his pocket.
She lay them on the counter. A dozen pearly buttons suitable for a pretty dress. He slid the coin over. “I’ll take them for her.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it, Master. She was mortified, I must say. All red-faced and watery-eyed.”
“She can be forgetful,” he said.
“Her husband needs to be more generous with his allowance. Poor lass, she has a pretty face. One of your da’s side, I assume?”
Matthew nodded. “Her husband is a wastrel. Quite unsympathetic to her needs. She’s not staying long.”
“Well, make my apologies, will you. Tell her she’s welcome to an account if you will make the debt good.” She picked a ledger off a shelf.
Matthew watched as she wrote his name on a line. “What’s her name?” she asked.
“Prudence. Prudence Denzel.” He slipped the buttons into his pocket. “She’s never one for being cautious though. Her father is quite adamant that she should learn its ways. I’ve been helping her undertake betterment. Very puritanical is her father, quite staunchly so.”
The woman laughed heartily.
