Page 49 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

Lucius settled his quill on the inkstand. “You’re in love. That is the only reason one might enjoy chill weather.”

Peter scoffed.

“How are things with your valentine?”

“She has yet to wear the gloves I gave her. How is Widow Tolbert?”

“I sent her a puzzle. But it’s your Margaret Cooper that interests me.”

“Court her, then.” Peter recoiled from the idea but maintained a straight face. Now that she had written in return, he could not relinquish her.

“Perhaps I will.”

Peter forced a laugh. “You wouldn’t suit.”

“Jealous?”

“She is not what I thought her to be.”

Lucius leaned forward, all interest. “Well?”

“She is like an egg.”

“Put that in your next valentine and she will be yours.”

Peter laughed. “She is all hardness and sometimes incivility in appearance, but she possesses something tender beneath her shell.”

“Get to it, then, old boy.” Lucius studied him. “Something else troubles you. Why are you here?”

Peter described the impossible request he’d given Leonore, the letters, the pen, the detailed outline he’d created by consolidating the information. “One man instructs one way, another something different, you see?”

“Plain as a riddle.”

“My grandfather was right. The recipe helps, but understanding why it works is the key. It’s not magic. It’s chemistry.”

Lucius stood. “I’m ready. Let’s see what you’ve made.”

“Nothing at all. I’m only thinking.”

Lucius exhaled loudly and thudded back into his seat. “You had me thinking you’d already mastered it.”

Peter smiled, ensconced in delightful anticipation. “When I do, I won’t tell you.”

“Don’t. Not unless you’re ready to sell.” They shared a grin.

Early the following morning, Peter entered the workshop to find Miss Cooper instructing Finn, an eight-year-old son of one of the needlewomen, on the proper way to clean a grate.

“Finn, keep the shovel’s edge close to the floor, so you’re not sweeping ash under it.” She demonstrated and returned the tools to the boy.

Finn pinched his lips and swept the charcoal beneath the ash shovel.

“Mr. Cox,” she said. He looked up, likely startled by the use of his surname. “Your work is critical to the proper running of this shop. Most towns of this size have a single tailor with perhaps one apprentice. Sloan Tailoring is exceptional, with people traveling from as far as London to commission clothes from us. This is a respected establishment, and you are the perfect gentleman to help us keep it tidy. Now, try gathering the ash without sweeping it all over.”

Her speech made Peter feel proud to work there. But his mind wandered to the fear she had expressed in her letter. She dreaded falling short but spoke to little Finn as though failure were impossible. Miss Cooper’s inner terror lay invisible behind a wall of confidence and authority.

When all was in order and Finn departed, Miss Cooper turned to Peter. “He will do well.”

“You have made certain of that.”