A Night Like This (Smythe-Smith Quartet #2)(47)

She cleared her throat, and her husband said, “Indeed.”
Daniel gave both of them a gracious nod, surreptitiously glancing about the establishment for other customers. Or rather, one other customer. Specifically. “Thank you, Mrs. Percy, Mr. Percy,” he said. “I am delighted to be home.”
Mrs. Percy nodded enthusiastically. “We never believed any of the things they said about you. Not a thing.”
Which led Daniel to wonder what sorts of things had been said. As far as he knew, every tale that had been spread about him had been true. He had dueled with Hugh Prentice, and he had shot him in the leg. As for his fleeing the country, Daniel didn’t know what sort of embellishment that story might have acquired; he rather thought that Lord Ramsgate’s ranting vows of revenge would have been titillating enough.
But if Daniel hadn’t wanted to debate the merits of blue-lavender and lavender-blue with his mother, he definitely did not wish to discuss himself with Mrs. Percy.
The Sad, Strange Tale of Lord Winstead. That’s what it would be.
So he simply said, “Thank you,” and moved quickly to a display of hats, hoping that his interest in their merchandise might overshadow Mrs. Percy’s interest in his life.
Which it did. She immediately launched into a list of the qualities of their most recent top hat design, which, she assured him, could be made to fit his head precisely.
Mr. Percy said, “Indeed.”
“Would you care to try one on, my lord?” Mrs. Percy asked. “I think you’ll find that the curve of the brim is most flattering.”
He did need a new hat, so he reached out to take it from her hands, but before he could place it onto his head, the door to the shop opened, tugging onto a small bell that tinkled merrily through the air. Daniel turned, but he didn’t need to see her before he knew.
Anne.
The air changed when she walked into a room.
“Miss Wynter,” he said, “what a lovely surprise.”
She looked startled, but only for a moment, and while Mrs. Percy regarded her with obvious curiosity, she bobbed a curtsy and said, “Lord Winstead.”
“Miss Wynter is governess to my young cousins,” he said to Mrs. Percy. “They are visiting for a short spell.”
Mrs. Percy expressed her pleasure in making the acquaintance, Mr. Percy said, “Indeed,” and Anne was whisked off to the ladies’ side of the shop, where Mrs. Percy had a dark blue bonnet with striped ribbons that would suit her perfectly. Daniel ambled along after them, still holding the black topper in his hands.
“Oh, your lordship,” Mrs. Percy exclaimed, once she realized that he had followed, “won’t you tell Miss Wynter how lovely she looks?”
He preferred her without a bonnet, with the sun glinting on her hair, but when she looked up at him, the sooty sweep of her lashes framing the dark, dark blue of her eyes, he didn’t think there was a man in Christendom who would have disagreed with him when he said, “Most lovely, indeed.”
“There, you see,” Mrs. Percy said to Anne with an encouraging smile. “You look like a vision.”
“I do like it,” Anne said wistfully. “Very much. But it’s terribly dear.” She untied the ribbons with reluctant fingers, pulled it from her head, then looked down at it with obvious longing.
“Such workmanship would cost you twice as much in London,” Mrs. Percy reminded her.
“I know,” Anne said with a rueful smile, “but governesses aren’t paid twice as much in London. So I rarely have much left over for bonnets, even those as lovely as yours.”
Daniel suddenly felt like a bit of a cad, standing there with the top hat in his hand, a top hat they all knew he could have bought and sold a thousand times without even feeling a pinch in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. He popped back over to the men’s side of the shop, handed the hat to Mr. Percy, who said, “Indeed,” and then returned to the ladies, who were still gazing down at the blue bonnet.
“Here you are,” Miss Wynter said, finally handing it back to Mrs. Percy. “I shall certainly tell Lady Pleinsworth how lovely your bonnets are. I am sure that she will wish to take her daughters shopping while she is visiting.”
“Daughters?” Mrs. Percy echoed, brightening at the prospect.
“Four of them,” Daniel told her amiably. “And my mother and sister are at Whipple Hill, as well.”
While Mrs. Percy was fanning herself, flushed from the excitement of having seven aristocratic ladies in residence so close to her hat shop, Daniel took the opportunity to offer his arm to Anne.
“May I escort you on your next errand?” he asked her, knowing full well how awkward it would be for her to refuse in front of Mrs. Percy.
“I’m almost done,” she told him. “I’ve only to buy a bit of sealing wax.”
“Luckily for you, I know exactly where that can be purchased.”
“The stationer’s, I would imagine.”
Good gracious, she was making this difficult. “Yes, but I know where the stationer’s is,” he said.
She motioned with her finger someplace vaguely to the west. “Across the street, I think, and up the hill.”
He shifted his position so that Mr. and Mrs. Percy could not easily watch their conversation. Under his breath, he said, “Will you stop being so difficult and let me escort you to buy your sealing wax?”
Her mouth was pressed shut, which meant that the little snort of laughter he heard must have come through her nose. All the same, she still looked quite dignified as she said, “Well, if you put it that way, I don’t see how I could possibly refuse.”