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“It’s directed at whomever is the predatory party. In this case, it’s you.”

Lavinia laughed. “If you believe I’m the predatory animal in this scenario, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You persuaded my son to offer you an invitation to my table. You. A seamstress,” Mrs. Wark nearly spat.

“I can assure you, it was not necessary for me to persuade him. He gave that invitation of his own free will with no encouragement from me.”

“And what of this invitation to the prince’s ball?” Mrs. Wark asked.

“What does it matter to you whether he invited me or not?” Lavinia asked. “I’m a woman of good reputation who isn’t married,” she said, even as she knew how her reputation would suffer for attending an event publicly with Wark. Her reputation had probably already suffered when he’d sent his carriage to collect her before the dinner party. But that had no bearing on what Mrs. Wark spoke of. Lavinia would not be cowed by this woman.

“I am your client and I say that you will not attend,” said Mrs. Wark.

“And your son is the one who pays my invoices, so I’m rather more concerned about his feelings on the matter.”

“My son?” The woman laughed.

“And it seems to me that you’re rather quick to judge for a woman whose own son isn’t happy with the company she keeps,” said Lavinia.

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the light, Lavinia could just see Mrs. Wark’s eyes narrow. “What are you implying?” snapped the older woman.

“That Mr. Wark doesn’t seem particularly thrilled by the attention Mr. Douglas pays to you,” she said.

“Harold doesn’t know anything,” the older woman shot back. “Mr. Douglas is a close business associate.”

“A woolen merchant and an ironmonger? That hardly seems like a fruitful partnership.”

Mrs. Wark’s chin lifted. “Sometimes the mutually beneficial nature of relationships are difficult for the untrained eye to see. Mr. Douglas has just completed the purchase of one of Harold’s warehouses in Leith.”

“Is your son aware of that sale?” asked Lavinia, doubtful that Wark would sell anything to Douglas, a man for whom he seemed to have nary a kind word.

“Harold need not bother himself with every detail of the running of the business. He has other responsibilities.”

“Like the prince’s committee?”

“Just so. Now,” said Mrs. Wark, with a nod to the door, “you will no doubt wish to be on your way.”

Summarily dismissed, Lavinia opened the door to the fresh evening air, happy to be free of the carriage. But before her foot hit the ground, Mrs. Wark said, “Mrs. Parkem, it would be best if you would send one of your girls to deliver my dress. And it would be preferable if a member of your staff were to attend my fittings in your place in the future.”

Lavinia’s cheeks flamed furious red. Mrs. Wark might be difficult, but she was still a customer of long standing. For the woman to suggest that Lavinia was somehow neither fit nor suitable to attend to the lady herself was as clear an insult as a slap across the face.

She drew in a deep breath and turned to face the open door of the carriage. “I believe, Mrs. Wark, that it will be impossible for my girls or myself to attend to you any longer. If you wish to come into the shop for your fittings, you will be most welcome. Good evening.”

Lavinia had intended to march off in triumph at having the parting shot, but instead she found herself almost face-to-face with Douglas, who was watching her with a studied casualness that set her on edge.

“Why, Mrs. Parkem, you look angry enough to bite through steel,” he said.

Ignoring the jab, she asked, “You purchased Mr. Wark’s warehouse?”

“That’s right. The final documents were signed just yesterday,” he said.

“What does an ironmonger want with a woolen merchant’s warehouse?” she asked.

“There’s money in iron, my dear, but every man has to diversify.”

“Diversify into what?” she asked.

“I’m thinking of something rather more . . . dynamic,” he said with a wink.