Page 18 of The Devil’s Submission

“Clark and Debenham, on Wigmore Street,” she replied. “I haven’t been there in an age, but the quality is excellent.”

“Even better. We’re practically there. In the work of a moment, you shall have chemises to last at least a few weeks.”

As it seemed like half of London had also ventured out to enjoy the sunshine, it actually took far longer to walk to the grand building than he’d estimated. He’d never been in the place himself, but the harem certainly spent a great deal of time and money there.

Walking up the steps and into the building was like stepping into a gigantic henhouse. It was noisy as hell and there were people everywhere, mostly women and children, but also the odd gentleman and plenty of footmen lugging hat and garment boxes. The salesmen were easy to spot, dressed in black trousers, shirts, and waistcoats, and hurrying from one corner of the enormous shop to the other. Some carried ready-made gowns and pelisses, but most held oversized bolts of fabric in satin and twill.

Eliza’s gaze darted from one side to the other, her smile bright with anticipation. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with the chemise and work your way out to gloves,” he replied, propping himself up against a pillar as Eliza bustled around him, pointing out bombazines and sarsnets, near-swooning over some Parisian fashion plates, and examining a bolt of satin the color of new leaves. The service had been adequate enough to start, but when he slipped two attendants a guinea apiece, it became positively fawning as they attempted to outsprint each other in collecting and presenting anything that took Eliza’s fancy.

Unfortunately his generosity drew the attention of several well-dressed ladies, who immediately began gossiping behind their fans, their pointed gazes and knowing looks reminding him why he never ventured into town.

“Grayson! What do you think of this fabric?” said Eliza merrily, her eyes sparkling. Suddenly the old bats and boredom were worth it as she twirled around him with a bolt of sky blue-striped muslin, one hand discreetly cupping his cock as she swished past.

“Delightful. Couldn’t adore it more.”

She laughed, her wicked smile promising a wealth of future delights. Until the smile slipped from her face and she paled.

Devil frowned. “What’s the matter? Eliza?”

“Can we leave?”

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine,” she said briskly. “Can we just leave at once, please? I’ll find some fabric elsewhere for chemises and such.”

Thoroughly confused at the complete change in her mood, he tucked her arm through his. “All right then, I—”

“Yoo-hoo! Lord Grayson! Eliza!” called Lady Brimley, barreling through a small crowd of people to reach them. “I didn’t even believe the whispers when I heard you two were in here shopping your hearts out, but what a happy surprise. You are just the couple I wanted to find.”

Eliza almost folded in on herself as her mother descended. Sure they had an uneasy relationship most of the time, and the countess could be arrogant, selfish, and a rather foolish slave to the ton, but his wife’s reaction seemed rather excessive.

“Lady Brimley,” he said politely, bowing over his mother-in-law’s hand. “How may I assist?”

“Dear boy. Has Eliza spoken to you? She swore to me she would.”

He glanced at his wife, who appeared to have lost even more color from her cheeks. “About what in particular?”

“Nothing,” said Eliza through bloodless lips. “Mother, not now. You’ll ruin everything.”

Devil’s gaze narrowed at the silent war of looks shooting between his wife and her mother. What the hell was going on? “Eliza?”

Lady Brimley suddenly encircled his arm with her hand, the cloying touch both annoying and unwelcome. “My daughter might care nothing for the wellbeing of others, but I’m certain you do not feel the same, Lord Grayson. You’ve always been so generous and giving toward her, and that is why I feel confident approaching you for the smallest of favors.”

Uneasiness settled like a wet overcoat. “I see. Perhaps we might continue this conversation in a more private setting?”

Eliza frantically shook her head, but his mother-in-law beamed. “Excellent idea. A tea shop it is.”

Chapter Five

The tea was hot and sweet, and a tiered selection of tarts and cream cakes and pastries sat within arm’s reach, but even a nibble would have her casting up her accounts. A carriage wreck was about to occur right before her eyes, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it.

Eliza watched in utter misery as her mother finished a jam tart and dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin.

“Lord Grayson,” said Lady Brimley, fluttering her lashes. “While I never expected a son-in-law quite so mired in, er, trade, your social connections prove that nasty stain can be overcome. And as I said earlier, I have always admired your generosity toward my daughter. But now that generosity and giving, that caring concern, must go wider.”

Grayson’s expression eased. “Are you raising funds for a charity, Lady Brimley? A church or hospital or orphanage perhaps? I’d be pleased to donate if that is the case.”