Page 33 of Redemption of a Marquess

“No, Miss. I mean, are you sure you want to go there? Ladies do not generally shop at a gentleman’s clothing store,” he said.

“How silly,” she said. “If you do not know where a shop is, I’m sure I can get the direction from a passerby.”

“Nae,” he hurriedly replied. “In fact, I know the shop where his lordship gets his cravats.”

“Perfect,’ Jeanine cried. “Where is it?”

He exchanged a look with the footman, who shrugged, then said, “It isn’t far. I will take you and Miss Stone.”

“It’s too beautiful a day to ride. We will walk. Just direct us, please.”

His eyes widened in horror. “I cannae let you walk alone.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Where is the shop?”

He shook his head stubbornly. “His lordship will dismiss me if I let you walk alone—after he beat me, that is.”

“Mr. Potts is right,” Miss Stone said. “If you are set on walking, our footman should accompany us.”

Jeanine smiled. “How clever of you.”

The driver finally gave them directions, but said he would follow with the carriage so that he could take them home from the shop. They reached the shop in ten minutes and entered. To the left, two brown leather chairs resided near the window, separated by a table that held a tray containing a decanter of amber liquid and four glasses. To the right, shelves displayed cravats, hats, and other sundry man’s articles in a multitude of colors.

A tall, wiry man, writing in a ledger, stood behind the long counter at the far end of the shop. He looked up and frowned. “May I help you?”

Jeanine crossed to the counter with Miss Stone alongside, and said, “We are looking for a cravat.”

His frown deepened. “Are you sure you’re in the right shop?”

“You do sell cravats,” Jeanine said. “I see lots there on the shelves.”

The man stiffened. “We sell gentlemen’s cravats.”

“I beg your pardon?” Miss Stone said. “A gentleman’s cravat is exactly what Miss Matheson is looking for. She is shopping for the Marquess of Northington.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “His lordship does buy his cravats here. But I feel certain you have the wrong shop. Ladies who purchase cravats—”

“This lady is Lord Northington’s ward,” Miss Stone cut in.

The man blinked in surprise, then his mouth thinned. “His lordship sends me an order when he desires more cravats. He does not send his ward to purchase them for him.”

“You misunderstand,” Jeanine said. “Gre-er, his lordship did not send me. I am buying him a gift.”

“I believe I understand perfectly well, Miss.”

“I am certain you do not,” Miss Stone said in a chilly voice that startled Jeanine. “His lordship will not be pleased to hear that the man who sells him his cravats was so shockingly rude to his ward.” She looked down her nose at him and waited.

Fifteen minutes later, they left the shop with a lovely ivory cravat, along with a dusky blue cravat, purchased at Miss Stone’s suggestion. She said the color would complement Grey’s dark eyes, and Jeanine was certain she was right. Their carriage sat in front of the shop with Mr. Potts in the driver seat and the footman waiting at the door. He opened the door as they approached, but Jeanine slowed at sight of another shop across the street. A sign over the door read Branby’s Furniture and in the window were displayed chairs and tables.

“There’s a shop across the street I would like to look at,” Jeanine said, and started toward the street.

“Miss,” Mr. Potts cried, “I must object. His lordship would not want you going about the city unescorted.”

“Then we are in no danger of upsetting him.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Miss Stone accompanies me, and you and Mr. McKinnon are only a few steps away.”

Mr. Potts leapt from his perch and hurried to the curb as Jeanine and Miss Stone crossed the street. They reached the shop and entered. The room was nicely furnished with two chairs, a couch, two tables with lamps, and a sideboard that bore a crystal decanter and half a dozen tumblers.

A stalky man emerged from a curtained door behind a counter in the far left-hand corner of the room and halted. “May I help you?”