The Duke and the Dressmaker (The St. James Series) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty

Sara shook her head after Philip departed. Her insides
churned like they never had before. What did she expect? She knew she had feelings for him. She probably would always have feelings for him. Philip was everything Duncan had not been.

When he
’d held her in his arms, he’d been kind and thoughtful. He whispered sweet words in her ear, caressed her skin enough to give her chills. She loved how he had made her feel valued, and special. He had demanded that she take pride in herself as a beautiful woman. She would have done anything for him.

Almost anything.
She just could not bring herself to whore for him. But now, after the way he just spoke to her—did she know him at all? Now he spoke of stations. Why was that a surprise? Everyone knew a duke was way above a viscount, an earl, and so on. Of course, he was way above a modiste. She had known that when she went with him the other night.

Yet h
e had treated her like a princess.

For one night.
Did he treat all his paramours as such on their first night? She’d been a fool to believe he would always treat her that way. She needed to get over him and do it quickly. He would not, no, he could not ever marry her. So an affair was the best she could ever hope for. But just when she had convinced herself to agree with him, her heart and her instincts stopped her.

W
hy did it hurt so?

***

Philip was quiet in the carriage.

Finally, his mother spoke.
“Why don’t you drop Emma and me at the orphanage? Then you may proceed with whatever you need to do and can stop back later.”

“Mother, I can wait if you need me to.”
He stared blankly out the window.

“No need to. Lady Downey gave us all these new
outfits for the children at the orphanage.”

Philip turned his head sharply to stare at his mother.
“She what?”

“Sara said every time she has extra fabric she makes something for a child to wear. She just cannot bear to throw out good material so she manages to put the scraps together for the children.
She asked me to take it to the orphanage. There is quite a bit here, and it will take some time for us to sort through it all.”

He
stared at his mother.

“Philip, are you all right?” Emma asked.

“Yes, of course. I will return for you in two hours. Will that be sufficient?”

“Oh,
certainly. That would be wonderful.”

***

Philip made his way into White’s and strode into the far room. Ardleigh sat at his usual table, thumbing through the newspaper.

“Greetings,
Brentwood. What has put you in such a sour mood today?” Ardleigh queried with a smile.

Philip
pulled out a chair and sat across from his friend. “It certainly is not any of your business, but I was hoping to move a certain widow into my townhouse.”

“Ah
.” Ardleigh nodded. “Lady Downey turned you down. Perhaps you are going about it in the wrong way. Women do expect to be treated with care. You two must have had a great night together after the ball.”

“As it happens, it was an excellent night after your ball. At least, it was for me.
Apparently, not so for a certain widow.”

“
Brentwood, you’ve lost your charm, have you?” Ardleigh chuckled as he studied at his friend. “Did you ask her kindly, or order her to do your bidding?”

“It is not of importance how I asked her, what matters is
the result, her refusal. When does a dressmaker refuse a duke? I could take care of her and not have to worry about all these threats to her. It is very simple. You know I could have many women as my mistress should I so choose. What is the wench’s problem?”

“Since I happen to be familiar with the lady in question, perhaps it could be self
-respect? Maybe the lady does not wish to be known as a mistress. She is very intelligent, Brentwood, not your usual twit. I doubt she would be happy in your townhouse, particularly if you refer to her as a wench.”

“What does she need? She can spend my money and n
ever have to work as a modiste again. What more could she want?” Philip loosened his cravat. “That was all Caroline cared about, money and spending more of my money, jewels and more jewels.”

“Fortunately for you, I see no similarities between your ex-wife and
Lady Downey, or don’t you view that as a positive sign?”

Philip grunted. “She is nothing like Caroline, or I would not go near her.”“Ah, the truth finally. Then why are you treat
ing her as you did Caroline? Perhaps Lady Downey would prefer to keep her hands in her business. She is very good at it, if you checked. I also think she might prefer to be able to hold company with your family and with Phoebe. She could not do that as your mistress.”

“Of course, I know that. She does not need to stay in touch with my family.
As to Phoebe, you would not stop her from seeing Lady Downey, I know you better.”

“No, I would not, but I suspect Lady Downey would stay away from my wife. She knows how the
ton
is, and I suspect she would stay within the guidelines of acceptable behavior.”

Philip stared at his friend. “Then there is no solution.”

“I think there is one, but you are neglecting to mention it.”

“What?”

“Why not marry Lady Downey?” Ardleigh leaned into the table and whispered to Philip. “You will not regret it.”

“You cannot be serious. I am a
duke. My wife must have noble bloodlines. She is to be the mother of the next duke. “

“I believe Lady Downey’s blood is noble.
Do you know anything of her mother? We hardly know anything about her father, much less her mother. She is just down on her luck because of that beast of a husband she married. Please recall that she has had no guidance from a mother.”

“And you think my mother would tolerate such a thing? She is a widow, blast it
,” Philip ground out.

“I think your mother wants to see you happy, and she is much wise
r and more forgiving than you give her credit for. She will welcome anyone into her home that you love. After all, she accepted Caroline, and she knew from the start that it was not going to last.”

“Who said anything about love? I am not in love with Lady Downey. I will never allow that to happen to me again.”
Philip stood and stared out the window, his hands fisted in his pockets.

“
So sad what Caroline has done to you. I thought by now you would be beyond her, but you are as sour as ever. You think you can always control everything, Brentwood. Well, you cannot always control your heart.”

After a bit of pacing,
he sat down again, leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face. Ardleigh was right. His mother had not said one cruel thing about Caroline until she had left him. Only then did she speak her piece, and it was not kind.

However,
he certainly was not in love with Sara. He enjoyed her company and was fond of her. He would love to teach her more in the bedroom—she was an apt pupil—but could he live with her for the rest of his life?

He was not ready for that type of commitment right now. Maybe he never would be able to commit again.

He had no choice. He would have to force her to come to him.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sara sorted her receipts carefully at the front counter. A few days had passed since she had last seen Philip, yet he was always lurking somewhere in her mind. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand. A smile of triumph enveloped her when she finished. There was almost enough money for Stinky.

She had one customer that was expected to pick up several gowns today
, and then she should have more than enough money. In fact, she had moved those gowns into the front room to be ready for her customer when she arrived. Gowns did not move easily with her broken finger. She had learned to think ahead. Her heart soared as she realized she should have enough left over to buy food for the week. She took a bit and hid it in a separate place for safekeeping. Stinky didn’t know all of her hiding places.

She immediately returned to her sewing table
in the back room to finish the gown she was working on for the front display. The more inventory she had, the better chance she had of paying the blasted man and finally being free of him.

The front door slammed and Sara jumped out of her seat. It was too early for Stinky. He couldn’t be here yet.
She rubbed the palm of her good hand down her dress to wipe the dampness away. Her heartbeat sped as she proceeded to the front. She held her breath and stepped around the corner.

A liveried
footman stood just inside the door with his arm outstretched. “A package for you, Madam. Lady Ardleigh instructed me to wait until you open the package. If they are not quite right, you may return them.”

Sara’s curiosity piqued. What would Phoebe
send her that she could return? She accepted the package with a smile and slid behind her counter to open it. Handling it carefully, her heart pounded in anticipation. How long had it been since she had received a surprise gift such as this?

Untying the ribbon, she carefully pulled the wrapping back until her eyes fell on the assortment of blue and
ivory round baubles inside. Sara couldn’t stop herself from uttering a small moan in appreciation for the beads inside. “Oh, they are so beautiful.”

She fingered each bead individually as she peered at them.

“Oh, I think they could be perfect.”

She knew Phoebe’s messenger was not interested, but she
announced her satisfaction anyway. Running into the back room, she retrieved her mother’s bag, slammed the drawer, and rushed back to the front room to determine if the beads matched.

Her entire body bursting with joy at the prospect, Sara placed the edge of her mother’s bag next to Phoebe’s package.

“Oh, no! They are too small. Oh, but the shape and coloring are a perfect match. If only they were a touch larger.” Sara rolled the pale gems between her fingers with a sigh. Grabbing her pen, she set to writing a response to Phoebe’s thoughtfulness.

Addressing the messenger, she said, “Sir, if you
will please wait one more moment, I will pen my response to Lady Ardleigh. I will keep the package, but I want to let her know if she has anything a bit larger to contact me.”

She realized she babbl
ed at Phoebe’s footman, and doubted very much that he was interested, but it was so rare she had someone to speak to that she chose to use it to her advantage.

“Sakes, I will write this in my note, sir. I will just tell her myself they are a little small, and if she has any larger to please save them for me.” Sara’s face beamed at her friendship with Lady
Ardleigh. Even though everyone else ignored her, at least she had retained one good friend.

She quickly penned her note, thanking Phoebe for her kindness. She was about to hand it to the messenger when the front door
flew open. The letter dropped onto the counter. Startled at the sound of the door banging open, she placed her hand on the package of beads protectively.

Miranda Montrose barrel
ed through the entranceway. Coming to a stop directly in front of Sara, she glared at her and locked her hands on her hips.

Fire flew from her eyes as she moved her face closer to Sara’s. “So, you little trollop, you thought you could just walk into the ballroom and steal my man, did you?”
Miranda’s chest heaved as she spoke.

She
stared into wild eyes. “Lady Montrose, I do not know what you are talking about.”

“O
h, isn’t that convenient, Sara. Steal my man and act like you are totally innocent. How dare you! How dare you think you can tangle with me and win. Well, you can’t, and you will not win. Brentwood loves me. You are to stay away from him. I knew you were nothing more than a whore. Is that what you really sell in this shop?” Her arm waved in a semicircle around her.

Miranda’s glance roamed the front room.
“Of course, you pretend to fool everyone by claiming to create these hideous gowns. Oh, and you must know the gown you wore the other night was atrocious.” Miranda made her way around the outside walls of Sara’s shop, fingering the gowns Sara had made that were awaiting pickup and customer approval.

With a giggle, she sneered at Sara.
“This is not what you really sell, though, is it? This is all just a cover, isn’t it? You actually sell yourself.”

She
gasped at the thought of what Miranda suggested. She moved away from the counter toward the woman.

Miranda tipped her head back and ran her eyes down the length of Sara. “Not that you would find many buyers of your boyish figure, but some men do like to try a wide variety. Since the duke and I were having a little disagreement, he must have wanted to find a woman as unlike me as possible.

Miranda laughed as she tossed her long mane to the side.
“Oh, and cheap, too. He was looking for a cheap little strumpet. And so he found you for one night.”

Sara
forced her mind out of its daze.
Do something
. She needed to do something. The woman was obviously out of her mind, but Sara knew she must be careful with a woman who might be having a bout of hysteria.

“Please leave, Lady Montrose. I have no designs on the
duke. I promise you that you will not see us together again. I had a terrible fright that evening, and he was consoling me. That was all.” Sara pulled her hair out of her eyes as she searched the room for a weapon. The footman did nothing. Couldn’t he help her a bit? That would be the honorable thing to do. Why was he just standing there?

“I know he will never be with you again.
He will come to me tonight. Not you, because I will kill you if you are seen with him again. Do you understand me? I want to be clear on what will happen if you entertain the notion of spending time with the duke again.” Miranda grasped a yellow day gown in her hand, rolling the fabric between her fingers.

“Why this is quite ugly, Sara.
Did you design this?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Miranda pulled a small knife from her reticule and sliced down the front of the gown.

Sara gasped as she stared into Miranda’s crazed eyes. “What are you doing, Lady Montrose?”

“Why, Sara, it is my job to make sure no one decent wears any of these monstrosities.”

Miranda’s twisted grin frightened her
. Sara watched in horror as she grabbed the next gown, tore one sleeve off, and ripped a hole in the middle of the bodice.

Sara choked
. She fought for control. “Lady Montrose, please. I beg you to stop!” She immediately thought of Stinky and how she needed the income from the gowns to be able to pay him. Miranda destroyed each one with a small tear.

“Stop?
Why should I stop when you clung to my man at the Ardleigh ball the other night? He is mine. I told you before to stay away from him.” She grabbed a fistful of material from a third gown.

The messenger finally awakened and interrupted,
“Please, Madam. This is not right what you are doing.”

Miranda pointed the knife at his throat. “This is none of your concern, so
do not interrupt.”

Sara’s skin turned cold
, her mind flooded with visions of Stinky. “Please, Lady Montrose. I am not interested in the Duke of Brentwood.”

“Why
, I think you looked very interested the other night. I think you could not have gotten any closer to him. I watched you. You had your hands all over him. I saw the sweet, innocent smiles you gave him to entice him to your bed. Are you going to tell me he did not come to your bed that night? Because I am sure he did. He was supposed to come to me that night. Instead he went to you. But we had a little disagreement that day.” She grabbed the skirt of another gown and shredded it. “It is all your fault. You are a trollop. There is nothing you could have given him that I couldn’t. You must have hypnotized him. Or did you put something into his drink?” Miranda turned back to Sara with a condescending smirk. “Truly, what could he possibly want with you?”

Sara
was frantic. Visions of being raped and having her limbs snapped ran through her mind. Her voice broke as she begged Miranda. “Please, Lady Montrose! I will stay away from him. It was just once. That was the only time we danced. I am not interested in him. You can have him. He doesn’t want me.”

She ru
shed toward Miranda, hoping to grab the knife out of her hands. But when she reached for her, Lady Montrose swung out with her knife and caught the edge of Sara’s arm. Blood spurted across the surface of the gown Miranda held and onto the floor.

“You see, Lady Downey, what terrible taste you have? Why that red color is
horrid on this lavender gown. Here, let me cut out that stain for you.” Miranda cut out a portion of the dress and handed it to Sara, then threw her head back and laughed.

The door banged open again and another messenger entered.
“Heavens, what are you doing with that weapon, Madam?”

The other messenger motioned with his hand to quiet him. “Leave her be, she has gone mad.” He reached for the door
. “Let’s get out while we can.”

“Stop right where you are!” Miranda’s large bosom heaved as she swept her gaze across both men with the knife held in front of her.
Her black eyes pinned both messengers in their spots. “Never mind any of this.”

She turned to Sara. “Did you get my message, Lady Downey? Next time, I will be cutting more than the gowns.” Miranda threw the bloody knife in her reticule and
strode out the door.

As soon as she left, the second messenger stepped forward.
“Miss, are you all right now? Can I fetch the doctor for you, or the authorities? I shall search for the magistrate, if you wish.”“No!” she shouted. “Thank you, sir, but I am fine. I will organize my things again in a few moments.”

“Well, if you can,
Lady Downey, I have a package from the duke for you. He said to await a written response.”

She
shook her head as she stared at the outstretched hand with a small package. She glanced up at the messenger, blinking back tears. Too much had happened in too short a time. Confusion washed through her mind. “What?”

“For you,
my lady, the duke sent it for you.”

She
couldn’t believe it, another package? Everything was now a mess. Her life was a mess again. Half of the gowns she was to sell today were destroyed. She wouldn’t be able to pay Stinky. What would he do to her? She tried to clear the thoughts and focus on the task at hand.

Yes, the package.
From Philip? She stepped behind the counter again, and brushed Phoebe’s package and her return note off to the side. Opening the package from Philip, she could feel both messengers’ eyes on her.

When she removed the cover, her pulse stopped. Inside was a beautiful necklace
made of large rubies and diamonds. The light danced off the gems as she removed it from the package. It was worth a fortune.

She
looked up at the messenger. “I am sorry, but I cannot accept this.”

“The
duke says you must, Lady Downey. He told me I was not to bring it back.”

The first messenger peered at the necklace from afar. “Forgive me, Madam, for interfering, but ‘
twould pay for all those damaged gowns there on the wall.” The man nodded his head toward the ruined gowns.

H
er mind raced. He was right. She could take it to the jewelers for cash and give whatever she needed to Stinky, or she could give the whole thing to Stinky. This was worth far more than he had demanded of her. This one piece of jewelry could put an end to all her troubles. Stinky would take it and promise never to bother her again. He would be happy to take such a valuable item. Her lips curved at the mere thought.

Her head
ached. Her hand reached up and rubbed a spot in her hair while she closed her eyes. Oh, what to do! This was too much to handle.

Yes, she could give him the necklace and keep her money to live on. It was a perfect solution. Her mind churned with the possibilities.
Except there was one problem, the necklace came from Philip with certain expectations attached to it. He would expect her to move into his townhouse.