Page 12 of An Alleged Rogue

Aria shifted restlessly beneath Phoebe. She placed a comforting hand on her mare’s neck as relief flooded through her. “My dear Miss Norton, I would be delighted. There are not many things that I can claim as skills, but I believe choosing fabrics may be one of them.”

Miss Norton’s lips turned up into a dazzling smile. “Truly?”

Phoebe laughed. “When would you like me to come?”

“Miss Selfridge is expected at two o’clock on Thursday. Would that suit?”

“If that is your preference. But might I suggest that I come sometime tomorrow? That way we can discuss colors and styles before you speak with Miss Selfridge. It might be best if you have some idea of what you would like when the seamstress arrives.”

Miss Norton’s eyes shone with happiness, and it appeared that her book might survive another day. “Tomorrow afternoon would be perfect. Thank you, Miss Hadford. I am most grateful.”

“I shall look forward to it,” Phoebe said. The phrase came easily, and she realized she meant it sincerely. She was coming to like Miss Norton very much, and if she could do something to improve her situation, she would gladly do it. “Until tomorrow, then.”

She touched her heels to Aria’s side. Miss Norton raised her hand in farewell, and with a parting smile, Phoebe continued down the trail toward the High Brodmore road.

Adam stretched out his long legs in front of the fire. Night was settling in, and this was the first time he had relaxed since rising. The gentlemen with whom he had associated before his father’s death would likely not believe it if they were to learn how he currently spent his days. It did not matter. Truth be told, Emily’s observation a few days previous was not too far off the mark. There was part of him—a rather substantial portion, actually—that thrived on working in the orchard. It was physically demanding, often dirty work, but there was something extremely satisfying about seeing the trees he had nurtured flourish and grow.

His eyes rested on his hands. They were becoming calloused. He flexed his fingers, feeling the slight ache from their overuse in the cart shed today. Molly was still adjusting to the new harness, but she was catching on quickly. She would be ready when they needed her to run the mill.

His musings were interrupted by a slight knock on the door.

“Enter,” he called.

Emily stepped into the study. “Are you busy?”

“No,” he said. “I am sitting as far from the ledger books on my desk as I can. If I don’t see them, I can pretend they are not there.”

With a small smile, she moved closer to her favorite armchair. She perched on its edge, her back ramrod straight.

Adam frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said, but her tightly clasped fingers claimed the opposite. “Miss Selfridge is coming to the house on Thursday to measure me for new evening gowns.”

“And that worries you?”

“No.” She squirmed. “Well, it did. A little.” Her shoulders drooped. “I do not know the first thing about evening dresses.”

She was right. And if the gown she wore to the Palmers’ on Saturday was any indication, neither Miss Glover nor Mrs. Foster knew anything more about them than Emily did. He had no desire whatsoever to be present during Emily’s appointment with Miss Selfridge, but he, at least, had firsthand knowledge of London’s ballrooms.

“If you need me to—” He paused. “Did you say the appointment did worry you—as in, it no longer does?”

She nodded, but her hands remained clenched.

“What changed?”

Her words came out in a rush. “I asked Miss Hadford if she would come to Dunsbourne Manor to guide me in my selections.”

He stared at her. “You asked Miss Hadford to assist you? Here?”

Emily nodded. “When we were at the Palmers’, I overheard one of the other ladies asking her opinion on the latest fashions coming out of Paris. She obviously knows a great deal about such things. You must have noticed how beautifully she was dressed that night.”

Oh yes, he had noticed. He would have had to be blind not to. But that did not signify that he wished the lady to advise his little sister on a new wardrobe. Gowns like the ones Miss Hadford wore did not come cheap.

“When did you speak with her?”

“She happened upon me and Miss Glover when we were sitting by the river this afternoon. She was riding the public path and stopped to talk to us. She . . . she was most gracious.”

Adam did not miss the way Emily’s eyes lit up at the memory, and he experienced a twinge of conscience. Miss Hadford may not be whom he would have chosen to assist Emily, but he should be grateful that his shy little sister had taken the initiative to invite someone to Dunsbourne Manor. Increasing her social interaction was his new goal, after all.