Page 22 of The Lyon’s Paw

“We will need both you and Mrs. George I fear, Joan. My sister-in-law, Lady Longford, needs an entire wardrobe for the winter. For the same parties I will be attending, so we have quite a lot of gowns to bespeak.”

The girl’s eyes widened, then she dropped another curtsey. “Yes, my lady. Let me run and get Mrs. George.” Joan turned and ran back through the curtain that separated the shop from the back rooms.

“You certainly galvanized her, my dear.” Diana chuckled as she gazed about the room at several already completed garments. “Oh, but look at this.” She gently fingered a beautiful, well-made gown of pale blue velvet, trimmed elaborately about the hem with flounces. “This is lovely.”

“We must ask Mrs. George to try it on you. If it fits and is not promised to another lady, I’m certain she will be happy to send it home with you.” Joanna’s grin was terribly like her brother’s, mischievous and infectious.

“Good morning, Lady Joanna.” Mrs. George appeared through the curtain, a middle-aged lady of perhaps forty, with dark hair and a pleasant smile. “My lady.” She curtsied to Diana, then looked inquiringly at Aunt Frances. “This is my aunt, Mrs. Beaumont.”

“Very good, my lady.” The modiste addressed herself to Diana. “Joan says we are to outfit you with a winter wardrobe.”

“That is correct, Mrs. George.” Joanna stepped up, seeming to take charge, which would suit Diana. She’d never ordered gowns on such a grand scale before.

“We will need to see all of your current sketches Mrs. George, as well as the latest edition of Ackerman’s.” Diana was slightly in awe of the way her sister-in-law knew exactly what to ask for. If left to her own devices, Diana wouldn’t know how to go about this at all. “Then we will need her measurements taken, and we can discuss materials and trims.” Joanna turned to Diana. “Will that be satisfactory?”

Diana nodded, quite at a loss. “Will today be enough time to have all of this done?”

Joanna chuckled. “As my brother said, we have all the time in the world.” She leaned closer. “You must have fun shopping for your new gowns, Diana. I insist upon it.”

Very well, then. She would have fun. Diana raised her gaze to the modiste, who was looking at her appraisingly. “Mrs. George, could you please fit the velvet day dress to me? If it’s not spoken for, I would very much like to take it with me.”

“Of course, my lady.” Mrs. George sent a speaking look at Joan, who rushed to the wicker mannequin, and began taking the garment off it. “Ladies, would you like tea while we peruse Ackerman’s designs and my latest sketches?” Mrs. George rang a bell and a skittish maid appeared instantly.

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. George.” Diana spoke up, happy to follow Joanna’s lead. She did wish to have fun today.

“Mary, tell Cook to put the kettle on. Joan, once you’ve finished with that gown, fetch the sketches to the drawing room.” Mrs. George opened a door to a small, well-furnished room. Blue paper with a design of flowers graced the walls, white molding all around, and a crackling fire before which were several large, comfortable looking chairs. “Please have a seat, ladies.”

Diana sank into one of the overstuffed chairs and Mrs. George put a copy of the most current Ackerman’s Repository in her hands. Sighing with delight, she began poring over the latest fashions. Fashions that in a very short time would adorn her for the first time in her life. Oh, yes. She was going to enjoy this!

Even though he’d breakfasted with the bevy of women at home, Geoffrey hurried down Fleet Street to Lynn’s Oyster Shop. He never came to London without putting in an appearance at Lynn’s. The briny, flavorful oysters were a favorite of his, and he planned to indulge in an early afternoon feast. “Mr. Lynn, good afternoon.”

“Lord Longford,” the elderly shopkeeper bowed to Geoffry, “welcome back. It’s grand to have you back again so soon.”

“New business brought me back to Town, and my first thought was for your oysters, sir. My mouth is watering already.” He’d known the proprietor for years, having come in since he was a young lad with his father. “Is there a table upstairs?”

“Always for you, my lord. Geordie!” Mr. Lynn called to one of his numerous grandsons. “Make sure there’s a table upstairs for Lord Longford.” He nodded to Geoffrey. “Follow young Geordie on up the steps, my lord. I’ll tell the kitchen to bring you a fresh dozen. We’ve got Colchester natives today.”

Smiling, Geoffrey all but licked his lips. “Excellent, Mr. Lynn.” He turned to follow the young Lynn up the staircase.

“Can I bring you a pint, m’lord?” The lad set a bench out for Geoffrey at a plain, plank table. Lynn’s wasn’t the most elegant place to get oysters, but it suited him down to the ground.

“A pint of your best, Geordie.” Geoffrey sat down and pulled the bench up to the table. Oh, but he was going to enjoy this. No sooner had he settled in than the lad was back with the pint and a platter heaped high with oysters, smelling of the sea they’d been snatched from so recently.

His mouth watering, Geoffrey grasped the first knobby shell, expertly wiggled the sharp knife provided into the crack near the hinge and popped it open. He upended it and the exquisite morsel slid silkily into his mouth. He chewed slowly, eyes closed, savoring the slightly briny, slightly herby taste. Before he swallowed, he reached for the next delectable mollusk.

Seven empty oyster shells littered the table and Geoffrey was about to open an eighth one when he became aware of someone calling his name.

“Lord Longford? I’d like a word with you, if I may.”

The voice was unfamiliar but cultured, so Geoffrey looked up, expecting a long-lost acquaintance from school, perhaps. Instead, his gaze met that of a swarthy gentleman, perhaps a year or two younger than himself, very well dressed in an excellently cut blue jacket and striped pants. His face was vaguely familiar, as though Geoffrey had met him once, somewhere, but couldn’t place him. A hunting party, perhaps? He swallowed the oyster, slightly annoyed at having his pleasure cut short. “I’m sorry, but have we met?”

“Not exactly.” The gentleman bared his teeth in what tried to pass for a smile. “Although we have had dealings with one another.” A hard look came into his dark brown eyes. “I am Marcus Dandridge.”

The name sent a shiver down Geoffrey’s spine. This was the dastard who’d tried to buy Joanna with the mortgages of his properties. Geoffrey’s gaze turned into a glare. He tossed the empty oyster shell onto the table and reared back in his seat. “We have nothing to speak about, Dandridge.”

“Oh but we do, Longford.” The man crossed his arms over his chest.

Geoffry continued stare up at him, silent.