The Belle of Belgrave Square (Belles of London #2)(98)

“When did the three of you last have new clothes?” Julia asked.

Beecham answered in their stead: “It was last autumn, ma’am. Captain Blunt saw to it himself. It’s not his fault the boys are growing like weeds.”

“It’s no one’s fault, except mother nature’s, I daresay.” Julia sipped her tea. She had a goodly amount of money tucked away in her reticule. More than enough to outfit the children—and herself—with a few necessities. “Very well,” she said. “We’ll go into the village, and I’ll even purchase you each some sweets, but you must agree to be fitted for new garments.”

Alfred’s excitement dimmed. “At Orrick’s Emporium?”

“Of course, at Orrick’s,” Charlie retorted.

“They don’t like us in the village,” Daisy said in a small voice.

“Oh, don’t they?” Julia’s indecision hardened into firm resolve. “We shall see about that.”



* * *





?The village of Hardholme was as dreary as its name suggested. Situated on the edge of the moors, it consisted primarily of a single main street flanked by a handful of shops, most of which had plainly seen better days. Among them, Orrick’s Emporium appeared the most prosperous. It boasted an elaborate painted sign and a large front window in which a display of ruffled parasols, dyed-leather gloves, and two jauntily trimmed straw bonnets had been arranged on stacks of pink and green hatboxes.

Mr. Plimstock helped Julia down from the carriage. She shook out her blue silk skirts. Before leaving the Hall, she’d changed into one of her carriage gowns. She’d even managed to put on her corset, determined that her appearance would be beyond reproach.

The children climbed out after her—Charlie and Alfred eager, and Daisy looking anxious.

“We won’t be overlong,” Julia informed Plimstock as she took Daisy’s hand.

Plimstock stood at the horses’ heads. “I’ll be waiting, Mrs. Blunt, don’t you worry.”

Taggert’s Market was two shops down from Orrick’s Emporium. A village woman in a drab dress and bonnet was exiting with her shopping.

Julia extracted a few pennies from her reticule and gave them to the boys. “Run ahead and get yourselves some sweets. Daisy and I will be at the Emporium. You can join us there directly.”

Charlie and Alfred bolted off to the market. The door of the shop jangled as they entered, swinging shut behind them.

Julia took a moment to reassure Daisy. “You needn’t distress yourself. I won’t let anyone be unkind to you here.”

Daisy’s eyes were doubtful.

“Shopping can be extraordinary fun,” Julia promised. “Just you wait and see.”

She’d no sooner got the words out than the door to Taggert’s Market jangled open again with a crash. Alfred and Charlie tumbled out into the street. Their arms flailed as they staggered to keep from falling down.

A large man filled the doorway behind them, his hair and mustache glistening with pomade. Both his manner and the apron tied at his waist proclaimed his identity as the shop’s owner, Mr. Taggert.

“And stay out, you ruffians!” he bellowed. “I’ve told you before, I won’t have you in my shop making trouble.”

Julia stared at the shopkeeper in outrage. “I beg your pardon.” She strode toward him, pulling Daisy along behind her. “What’s the meaning of this?”

The shopkeeper looked at her, startled. He immediately recovered himself, seeming to register the ladylike refinement of her accents and the elegance of her London-made clothes.

He sketched an apologetic bow. “Forgive the disruption, ma’am. These guttersnipes will make a nuisance of themselves. Why, only last month—” He broke off as his eyes lit on Daisy. His genial expression vanished. “I say, is that another of Blunt’s—”

“How dare you?” Julia had never confronted a person in her life. She’d never had the courage. No matter the injustice, her nerves had always got the better of her. But not today. A fiery indignation tore through her. “Who do you think you are, sir, to lay hands on my children?”

He gaped. “Your children?”

“You heard me.” Julia stretched out her hand to the boys. “Charlie, Alfred. Come here.”

Charlie and Alfred flew to her side, permitting her to enfold them in the protection of her arm. Their faces were as blank as professional card sharps. One wouldn’t know they’d just been unceremoniously tossed into the street.

A beady-eyed woman in an apron appeared from behind the shopkeeper. She addressed Julia in scathing tones. “And who might you be, madam?”

Julia drew herself up to her full height. It wasn’t much. Not more than five feet and three inches. But in that moment, she felt as commanding as Lady Arundell herself. “I am Mrs. Blunt, and these children are in my charge. How dare this man presume to lay hands on them?”

The woman’s eyes goggled. “I told you Captain Blunt took a wife,” she hissed at Mr. Taggert.

Mr. Taggert shushed her with a wave of his hand. “I ask your pardon, Mrs. Blunt,” he said to Julia. “But if you knew these boys as I do—”

“I know them quite well, thank you. And if their coin isn’t good enough to be spent in your shop, mine will certainly be spent elsewhere.” Julia turned the children back toward the carriage.