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“You can stay in the carriage,” she suggested.
“On this lovely day? I can think of better things to do.”
“Like chase down a wedding dress?”
“As I said, I do not wish to see Demeter upset.”
“Well, neither would I.” She lifted her chin.
His lips tilted. “I am not always trying to start an argument, Eleanor,” Oliver said.
She looked to the pavement. No. In fact, he seemed to be doing his darndest to be about the most pleasant, charming man she’d ever met. It made her dislike of him appear more and more irritational.
But she knew the truth, did she not? She’d seen how he looked at her. Underneath the polish existed something else, something she’d witnessed in too many of theton, something her sisters would never experience.
It did not matter right now, though. She had to sort out this situation.
The bell on the door rang as they stepped in and the modiste, a petite woman around the same age as Eleanor, rose from a crouched position where she had been pinning the hem of a pale blue gown. Her eyes widened and she set a handful of pins upon the table with a shaky hand. Gowns hung from several dressmaker’s dummies and delicate, feminine fabrics filled the front of the shop. She heard the chatter of seamstresses in the rear and a young girl wailing that her waist was too big in the dressing room.
“My lady...” Mrs. Doyle spoke, her Irish lilt softened by a near stutter. “Were you here for...” She pressed a hand to her chest and rubbed it as color began to spread up her neck. “I do not recall us having any gowns being made for you at present.”
Mostly because Eleanor did not care for endless gowns no matter how happy her father was to pay for them. She detested being prodded and poked and pulled in every direction all the while trying to keep up inane conversation. She had what she needed for the Season, and she would keep it at that.
“I came about my sister’s wedding gown.”
Mrs. Doyle hastened over, making a shushing motion with her hand. “Please believe me, my lady, nothing like that has ever happened before. I do not even know how someone would have...” She looked to the open door where Oliver lingered, eyeing the wooden frame then fiddling with the lock. “My locks are most secure.”
Oliver straightened and gave a little nod. “It does not look as though anyone broke in.”
Eleanor joined him and eyed the locks, spying no scratches or damage.
“Because they did not,” Mrs. Doyle said firmly. “But I have twelve women working here. I cannot fathom how anyone took it without any of us noticing.” Mrs. Doyle tucked strands of pale brown hair behind both ears and chewed on her bottom lip.
“So the gown was taken whilst you were open?” Eleanor asked.
“Indeed.” The modiste’s lip quivered. “We were nearly finished, just a few little touches. It was right there.” She gestured to an empty dummy. “It would have taken several moments to even remove the gown.”
“Was anything else taken?” Eleanor continued.
Mrs. Doyle shook her head vigorously. “Not a thing.”
Oliver came to Eleanor’s side, his hands clasped behind his back. “Where were you at the time?”
If Eleanor did not know better, she would think Oliver quite experienced in investigating. Oliver couldn’t be aware of her and her sisters’ past investigations so she would forgive him for stepping in, however, she was not willing to give up control of this matter, not when she had helped solve many cases of theft in her time.
“I was just in the dressing room with the Countess of Crewe. She was rather upset...”
Eleanor nodded. The countess was not known for being the most pleasant of women and was no doubt demanding of Mrs. Doyle’s time. “Was anyone else here?”
“My girls, of course, and Lady Mary Knightsbridge I believe, but she was only here briefly to check on her wedding gown.”
“Lady Mary is having her gown made by you?” Eleanor pressed.
“Indeed, my lady.” Mrs. Doyle straightened. “Once your sister commissioned me to make her gown, we had quite the flurry of orders.”
Oliver scanned the room. “And you have searched everywhere?” He made a move toward the back of the shop and Mrs. Doyle stepped in front of him.
“My lord, you cannot go in there! And please, believe me, we have searched the entire building. The gown is not on these premises.”
