Wilkins nodded and said, “I’ll begin to make arrangements.”
Claire chewed her toast slowly, afraid her stomach would revolt, but when she finished the piece, she looked up at him. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I am quite afraid to. If the smell of sausage does that to you, I’ll wait until later.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. He was the reason she was in this condition, so she supposed he could suffer somewhat, couldn’t he? Without her feeling remorseful? Her stomach was feeling much better, but she still didn’t think she could tolerate that smell. She pushed her plate in his direction. “Would you like some toast?”
He smiled and raised a piece of toast to his lips. His eyebrows drew together like he was wondering about her. He’d better not wonder too much. Or he would find out much more than he wanted to know.
Eleven
The bell over the door of the modiste’s shop tinkled as Claire walked through the door. The entryway was clean and classical with a large settee, some high-backed chairs, and damask walls. It looked… expensive. Claire suddenly realized that she had no money with which to buy new clothing.
“Finn,” she breathed, turning around quickly to go out and find him, but he’d stepped into the shop behind her and she ran directly into his chest. Claire stopped for a moment to inhale the clean scent of him. He smelled like morning in the forest in her land. She took a deeper breath, her nose pressed against his chest.
“Claire?” he questioned as he took her shoulders in his hands. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing was wrong. Not when he was nearby. She completely forgot her qualms about money, until the modiste bustled into the shop. “Good morning,” the woman chimed.
“Good morning,” Finn said. His glance toward Claire worried her for a moment, but he quickly composed himself. He bent and took the lady’s hand. “Colette,” he said smoothly, drawing her knuckles to his lips. “Lovely to see you.”
Colette? He knew the lady? Intimately, if the way her eyes warmed at the sight of him was any indication.
She was really quite lovely, with long, dark hair and a willowy body. But then she snapped her fingers at Claire’s face and said, “The maid can wait in the back.” She arched a brow and ruffled her fingers to move Claire along.
Finn’s face colored. “She’s not a maid.”
“Oh,” the woman said, a sudden irritation flashing in her green eyes. “Of course, she’s not.” She turned to Finn and laid a hand upon his arm. “Where did you find your new ladybird?” she asked.
She watched as Finn’s back went ramrod straight. “I found this one in Lord Ramsdale’s parlor. She just happens to be his daughter.” That wasn’t the truth, not the part about finding her in the parlor—she hadn’t even seen her father’s home yet—but the look on his face made it seem indisputable.
“Oh, I thought she was your new mistress,” the lady breathed, laying an amused hand over her mouth.
“She’s the new Duchess of Robinsworth’s sister,” Finn said, his voice full of hauteur.
That got the lady’s attention. She swallowed so loudly that Claire could hear it. “I assumed because of her attire…”
“Her luggage was lost. Carriage accident.” The man could lie with a straight face. Claire didn’t know if she should be jealous of his ability or in fear of it.
“The poor dear. So, you’ll need everything?” The modiste looked to Finn and he nodded.
“Everything.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “And to whom should I send the bill?”
Finn’s back grew even straighter. “To her father. Who else?” He looked down at Claire. “I will leave you in very capable hands, Miss Thorne.” He bowed and started for the door.
Certainly he wasn’t going to leave her here. “You’re not staying?”
He smiled indulgently. “I’ll return for you in an hour.” He arched a brow at the modiste. She shook her head and held up two fingers. “Two hours, then.” He nodded again and quit the room.
The modiste rang a bell, and two women appeared from the back of the shop and led Claire toward the rear. They spoke in rapid-fire French, and she had no idea what they were talking about. But when they started to unfasten her clothes and then threw them into the fire, she got the feeling that they didn’t approve of them. Not at all.
She stopped them when they got to her chemise. With the fashionable high waist of gowns, she could keep her secret for a while, but not if people started measuring her waist.
***