Page 171 of The Siren of Sussex

A blush threatened. “I might have mentioned you.”

He looked at her steadily, an emotion in his eyes that was hard to read. “Your aunt said there was a grove of trees on the other side of the garden. Someplace we could be private. Shall we walk there?”

She nodded numbly.

Good gracious.

Good lord and all the saints above.

This was the moment. It was truly happening.

She brushed her hair back from her face with an unsteady hand, fervently wishing she’d had a minute to tidy herself. To change into a pretty summer frock and to dab orange blossom perfume behind her ears.

Instead, she was still in her riding habit—windblown and rumpled and probably smelling of horse.

But it was Ahmad’s riding habit, too. The first one he’d made for her.

It seemed fitting somehow.

He walked alongside her away from the stables. An overgrown path led down to the gate at the edge of the property. “I understand you’ve been well occupied with your new business venture.”

Evelyn draped the long skirts of her habit over her arm. “Did my aunt tell you what’s happened?”

“Not a word,” he said. “She blushed to mention the subject.”

Poor Aunt Nora. She wasn’t at all comfortable with the particulars of putting Hephaestus out to stud. The business was a trifle shocking for a household of unmarried ladies. Evelyn nevertheless felt proud of herself for contriving it. “We’ve received five more bookings for Hephaestus. That makes ten altogether.”

“Impressive.”

“I thought so.” It meant that Hephaestus would be able to pay his own way. That he wouldn’t be a burden, either to Aunt Nora or to Evelyn’s future husband.

Ahmad opened the crooked wooden gate, waiting as she walked through it ahead of him. “I have some news as well.”

“Good news?”

He shut the gate behind them. “Quite good.” The two of them continued on down the path. “I must thank you for it.”

“What have I to do with it?”

“A great deal,” he said. “Ten days ago, a lady visited Doyle and Heppenstall’s. A very elegant lady, inquiring after a mourning dress.”

Evelyn shot him an alert glance. “Lady Seymour?”

“You sent her to me.”

“I gave her your card. I didn’t know—”

“Didn’t you?”

“I hoped,” Evelyn admitted. “Did you make her a dress?”

“Two of them.” He gave her a wry look. “But that isn’t the good news.”

“Something more happened?”

The grove of trees lay ahead—old oaks with their branches tangled in places, making a canopy against the sun.

“It did,” he said. “Not many days after Lady Seymour’s order was delivered, a footman in royal livery came into the shop. He brought a summons from the palace.”