Page 76 of Honor Unbound

I looked after my lady’s maid. She’d been with me for more decades than I cared to count and never, not once, had she shopped for anything that matched her eyes.

I followed after her more slowly. I should support Jane. If she wanted to pass time with this Joe, if he made her happy, then I should encourage it.

The door was opened before me by a smartly dressed footman.

I was only happy I was past all that. I’d had my romance and many years with my lovely Christopher. This time of my life was meant for something different. Yes, I was past all that.

I gave Jane a sidelong look as I glided by her. Although I would have thought she would have been, too. Perhaps romance didn’t depend on age but state of mind.

I found the owner of the establishment and asked him the same questions I’d been asking shopkeepers all day, but switched the gown I’d admired for evening dress worn by Messieurs Driscoll and Platt. The owner had a hard time containing his excitement at the thought he might be dressing my nephew, the Duke of Montague. He had never heard of Mr. Driscoll but he did confirm he’d clothed Mr. Trent’s brother-in-law. “Mr. Platt is a frequent visitor to this shop,” he said proudly. He bent and scratched Southey behind his ear. “He ordered a new coat just last week. Unfortunately, I may not be able to deliver on that order.”

Last week. He could have been replacing a coat after Trent’s murder, but that was before Hicks. “Oh? And why is that?”

“I run a business, madam.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “A business that runs on the trade of goods for payment. Mr. Platt at times doesn’t live up to his end of the bargain.”

“I see.” I nudged Southey away from a row of leather boots.

“That wouldn’t be a problem for someone of your nephew’s caliber, of course.”

“Of course.” I inclined my head. “I will have to let Montague know of your shop. Good day.”

Jane followed after me when I left. “We’ve been to half these shops, and what have you learned?”

“That no one carries a fichu in your color blue,” I said dryly.

Jane waved at Ernest to draw close. Apparently her time shopping with me was at an end. “These people, your suspects, have money. They lose one gown or coat, they have plenty more. They don’t have to get a new one right away to replace it.”

I sighed. “I know the chances are slim, but I have to ask the questions. One never knows what innocuous bit of information will turn the tide in an investigation.”

“An investigation you don’t have to involve yourself in.” Jane flapped her hand at a fly, the veins in her hand bulging. “If I were to kill someone, I would wash up before I went home.”

A woman walking past took two steps to the side to give us a wide berth. As though she’d never had a conversation about how to conceal a murder before.

“You have been passing off your duties to other maids for too long, Jane,” I said. “Blood isn’t easily washed off clothing. Not if it’s had many minutes to set. Besides, where would the killer wash up? The Thames?”

Ernest pulled up next to us and hopped down from his perch. He opened the carriage door and pulled out a small bowl and bottle of water. “It looks like it might rain, milady.” He poured water in the bowl and set it before Southey. “The roof of the carriage has yet to be repaired.”

I was well aware of that fact. My boot heel had made the tiniest of holes when it’d poked through the ceiling, and now my driver never failed to mention it.

“Course, it might not be worth repairing, as old as she is.” He scratched his jaw. “We could look into buying a new one?” His voice was hopeful.

“She’s a good old carriage.” I patted its side. Yes, the velvet on the seats was showing its age. And the springs had long since ceased to cushion the ride. But she had character. “Just get the roof repaired.” I tilted my head. “And perhaps have it reinforced. One never knows when one might need to stand upon it again.”

Ernest’s shoulders dropped. “Yes, milady.”

“Can we go now?” Jane asked.

I looked down the street. Savile Row wasn’t far and there were an awful lot of shops remaining in which to ask questions. “You haven’t found your fichu yet.”

Jane shrugged. “My desire for a fichu has declined as the ache in my feet has increased.”

“I’m going to go into a couple more shops.” I nodded to the carriage. “You wait inside. And take Southey.” I handed her the lead. “I won’t be too much longer.”

Jane didn’t need to be told twice. Southey hopped up the steps, and Jane followed him in, relying heavily on Ernest’s arm. When the door shut without me inside, Southey barked in betrayal.

I strode to the next dressmaker’s, my own feet feeling their aches. A couple was speaking to the proprietress, and I waited until their conversation finished. The man in the couple gave me a curious look as he passed, then stopped. “Lady Mary?”

“Yes?” He was middle-aged, with a shock of dark red hair. A feeling of vague recognition passed through me, but I couldn’t place where I knew him from.