A Lord For The Wallflower Widow

For a moment, he thought she would refuse, but she shrugged. ‘Very well.’

When he turned off Bond Street, she frowned. ‘Really, Avery? Where are we going?’

‘Not far. This shop has the best hats for really decent prices and if you purchase one, you won’t see another hat like it anywhere.’

Her face lit up.

Finding something unique but not outrageously priced was always the trick. There was nothing worse than arriving at a ball or a drum and discovering another lady in the exact same gown or riding Rotten Row and meeting a lady wearing the same carriage dress or hat.

Ladies set great store by such things. Whereas most men were happy wearing black coats and buff pantaloons with the occasional idiosyncrasy of a fanciful waistcoat.

He opened the door to Mrs Greystone’s establishment and ushered Mimi in.

As far as he could tell not a single bonnet had been sold since his last visit two days ago.

‘Good morning,’ she said, eyeing him askance.

‘Good morning,’ Mimi said.

A strange look passed across Mrs Greystoke’s face as she took in his companion. An expression she quickly masked with a bright smile.

‘This is Mrs Luttrell,’ Lord Avery said.

Mrs Greystoke dipped a curtsy. ‘How may I be of service, madam.’

‘I need a hat.’

Amusement danced in Mrs Greystoke’s dove-grey eyes. ‘Then you have come to the right place.’

Avery felt a surge of gladness that he had brought Mimi here. He’d recognised the shadows in Mrs Greystoke’s eyes the last time he was here. Desperation. He just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge he didn’t like it. He had enough responsibilities as it was.

Nevertheless, the idea that she was desperate had weighed on his shoulders. And he was glad he had the means to do something about it, even if it did leave him a bit short of funds.

Mimi pulled forth the scrap of blue fabric Madame Grace had cut off the bolt. ‘This is the fabric for a new carriage dress. What do you suggest?’

Avery wedged himself in a corner by the counter and let the two women have at it. His part would come later, when a decision was to be made. In the meantime, he could not help but compare the two women. Mimi, a sweet English rose at first glance, but with all the experience of a married woman, and Mrs Greystoke, not exactly pretty, but striking and strangely innocent.

Greystoke. Now why did he keep thinking that name sounded familiar?

* * *

Lord Avery’s special lady was older than Carrie had expected and apparently a widow to boot, but pretty as a picture, nonetheless. The sort of woman she would have expected to attract him, if she was honest. Carrie helped the lady remove her hat and brought down three bonnets that she thought would suit the lady’s face and complement the fabric.

A maid eased in through the door. Mrs Luttrell frowned. ‘Boggs, I am sorry, but you need to wait outside. There really isn’t room in here for another person.’

The maid, who was all of eighteen, looked worried. ‘Yes, mum.’ Her accent came from the north. She started to back out.

The sound of someone from her home county gave Carrie an odd feeling in her stomach. A bit of the same feeling of homesickness she’d experienced when she’d first arrived in London to go to school at around the same age as the maid. She’d been sent to a young ladies’ academy to acquire a bit of polish, as her father put it.

‘Your maid can wait in the back room,’ Carrie said. ‘This is not the best of streets for a young girl to linger on.’

‘Thank you, mum,’ the maid said with a look of relief.

Mrs Luttrell gave Carrie a sharp look. ‘That is very kind of you, Mrs Greystoke. I can certainly vouch for Boggs’s honesty.’

‘Indeed.’ Carrie smiled kindly at the girl. ‘Perhaps you could make us all a cup of tea while you are waiting.’

The girl beamed. ‘That I can, mum.’ She glanced at her mistress. ‘That is, if you agree, madam.’

‘It is a wonderful idea.’ Mrs Luttrell picked up a bonnet Carrie hadn’t suggested. ‘What about this one?’

Carrie tried not to frown at the choice. ‘If you wish to try it on, you may, but I think you will find it hides your face and, with a pretty face like yours it would be a shame.’

‘Do you think so?’ She turned to Lord Avery. ‘What do you think, Ave?’

He gave her an indulgent smile and for a moment Carrie wondered what it would be like to have a man smile at her in that warm lazy way.

‘I think Mrs Greystoke knows what she is about, Pet,’ he said. ‘Trust in her judgement.’

Mrs Luttrell put the bonnet aside and picked up one of Carrie’s suggestions. ‘May I try this one first.’

Carrie helped her put it on. She tied a neat bow and directed Mrs Luttrell’s attention to the looking glass.

Mrs Luttrell viewed herself from various angles with pursed lips.

Carrie held her breath. This was it. This was her chance to get this shop found by ladies of the beaumonde. Oh, she could tell that Mrs Luttrell was not a diamond of the first water, or a member of any of the first families of the ton, but she wore her clothes well and other ladies would admire her, if she wore the right hat.

After a couple of minutes, Mrs Luttrell turned to Lord Avery. ‘What do you think, Ave.’

‘I think you should try them all, before making up your mind. I like that one very much, but another might suit better.’

How very odd. Most men hated shopping.

So the lady tried on all three. When she reached the last one, Lord Avery straightened. ‘I like them all,’ he said. ‘The last two looked equally good on you, Mimi. Whichever one you pick you cannot go wrong.’

Carrie did not agree with him. She preferred the one Mrs Luttrell had chosen to put on last. ‘The one you have on now suits you particularly well,’ she said, not wishing to argue with his lordship, but wanting the lady to make the right choice.

Lord Avery picked up his cup and sipped at his tea. He’d put a great deal of sugar in it, Carrie had noticed.

Mrs Luttrell turned this way and that and then also took a sip of tea. ‘I am sure I cannot decide between this one and that one.’ She pointed to the first one she had tried on.

‘Take them both,’ Lord Avery suggested.

Carrie stared at him. Surely, he was jesting?

Mrs Luttrell frowned.

Dash it! She was going to refuse them both now. ‘Truly, the one you have on suits you best, madam. It is perfect for this time of year. I am sure you will be doing a great deal of driving out now the weather is changing for the better.’