Chapter Three
“Perhaps we should have brought one of the footmen along,” Maddie remarked to Mari as they exited a third milliner’s shop with several packages of ribbons, lace and bows. “I do not think our maids can carry any more.”
Mari glanced over her shoulder to see Effie glaring at her in a definitely unservant-like manner. Although both maids carried hatboxes containing the bonnets just purchased, none of them was heavy. Of course, that was not the real reason Effie was glowering. She had been mumbling dire words of warning ever since they left about what would happen when Jamie MacLeod found out they’d gone shopping.
Mari gave her a bright smile, refusing to let her maid’s sour mood spoil hers. Jamie had business to attend to, and they would be home long before he returned. The day was too nice to be dismal. The London sky was a rare blue, with only fluffy white clouds dimming the sunshine. The brisk breeze held a hint of early winter looming, but it also cut the soot in the air. All in all, a perfect day to be out and about as was evidenced by the number of ladiesalready strolling the street. It never hurt to see and be seen.
“Oooh. Look. A new modiste shop.” Mari pointed across the street. “I would love to have a new gown for that special dance at Almack’s next month.”
“Let us hope we get invitations,” Maddie answered. “The patronesses have not yet issued vouchers for the regular Season.”
“Oh, posh. Why would we not receive invitations? Jillian assured me she had the ear of Lady Jersey, and your papa is a baron.”
“The patronesses pride themselves on not bowing to pressure or titles,” Maddie replied. “I heard the Duke of Wellington was actually turned away once when he arrived a few minutes late for supper wearing trousers rather than breeches.”
Mari felt her eyes round. “The duke? He defeated Napoleon.”
“My point exactly,” Maddie said. “One of the rules is that the doors close promptly at eleven o’clock in the evening and no one—not even a duke—is an exception.”
Mari shrugged. “We must make certain, then, that we follow all of Society’s rules.”
“Hmmph,” Effie muttered from behind her. “Having a proper escort might be a good start.”
“Oh, Effie. It is broad daylight on a safe street with shoppers about. What could possibly happen?
“Hmmph,” Effie said again.
Mari ignored the grumpiness as she pushed open the door to the dress shop. “You worry too much.”
“Mademoiselles. Bienvenue.” A petite Frenchwoman came forward to meet them. “I am Madam Dubois. How may I be of service?”
“I would like to see some material for a ball gown,” Mari said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. “Silk, I think.”
“But of course. I have the perfect color for you.” The woman turned gracefully, almost seeming to glide across the floor to a corner area. She took a bolt from the shelf and slipped a piece of the cloth over her arm. “This would go splendidly with your eyes.”
Mari touched it with a fingertip. The blue hues changed color as the material shifted, shimmering from light to medium to dark. “It is beautiful. How—”
The door swung wide before Mari could finish her question, allowing the cool air to sweep in, ruffling several other pieces of material in the shop.
“Monsieur,” the shopkeeper protested, “the door,s’il vous plaît.”
Mari heard Maddie’s gasp at the same time she heard the thud of the hatboxes the maids had been holding hit the floor. The hairs at her nape prickled as she turned slowly around.
Jamie MacLeod’s big frame filled the doorway, the huge claymore protruding menacingly above his left shoulder. But it didn’t look half as dangerous as his face. His dark hair was windblown, his golden eyes trained on her like a wolf sensing his prey. Without a sound, he moved toward her.
Wesley pulled his hat slightly down as he passed the modiste shop and hurried around the corner before he was seen.
Another interesting discovery. MacLeod’s brother had followed the little chit to London, which meant no one was tending the farm at either Cantford or Newburn. When Wesley had first moved to Newburn, he had thrown out the whole passel of Newburn servants loyal to Jillian and recruited his own. He didn’t know how many, if any, had been retained, but if Carter were still there, Wesley had a way in if he needed one.
Wesley smirked as he hailed a hackney. Having a back-up plan—or two—had kept him alive on several occasions. And he had no plans to die soon.
Mari watched Jamie advance warily. How could such a big man—with that unwieldy sword—move so quickly or gracefully? His golden eyes penetrated, his gaze never leaving hers. Suddenly, the modiste’s shop seemed much too small. Mari fought the urge to step backward. Her chin went up defiantly. She had every right to be shopping on Bond Street in the middle of the day.
“You need not have come—”
“We will be discussing the matter once we are home,” Jamie answered and reached for her.
“What do you—humpph.” The air whooshed out of Mari’s lungs as she was lifted and slung over Jamie’s right shoulder like a sack of grain, his strong arm firmly around her thighs. She heard Madam Dubois gasp as Jamie turned and headed for the door. From her upside-down position, Mari could see both maids gaping at her while Maddie stared in shock. Howutterlymortifying. The barbarian couldn’t be thinking of actually walking into the street with her in this position!
