prestigious client. Lady Gwen wanted Mrs. Mortimer to create her trousseau, but the shop didn't have the money to buy all the fabric required. So Anthony had suggested they ask for payment in advance. It was the only safe way to fill the huge order, and there was nothing havey-cavey about it!
They'd made it to the back door and Anthony had the key, but he was not about to open the door just yet. Not until he had his say. So he planted his feet and looked Lord Redhill in the eye.
"Mrs. Mortimer is the most honest person I know. She explained to Lady Gwen that she couldn't afford to buy the materials for the gowns right now. Not without some cash. In truth, it was my suggestion, and there is nothing untoward about it! What I find appalling is the havey-cavey way some people are about not paying—about delaying payment until a merchant is on his last penny just because the customer has a title!"
It wasn't until Anthony finished his tirade that he remembered one did not usually speak so sharply to a future earl. And if he had any doubts as to the risk he'd just taken, Lord Redhill's narrowed eyes were a good indication.
"I pay my bills. I have never delayed payment to any merchant. Ever."
"Of course, my lord. I did not mean to suggest otherwise."
There was a long pause as the man studied him from head to toe. It was a humiliating inspection, but Anthony held his ground. What he'd said was no more than the absolute truth.
Finally, Lord Redhill spoke, his tone cold. "The shop is on solid footing?"
"If it does not overextend."
"By buying cloth for gowns."
Anthony nodded. "By buying a trousseau's worth of silks and lace and ivory buttons for the daughter of an earl."
Lord Redhill grimaced. "Gwen does like silk and lace."
"And ivory, I believe. She most specifically requested ivory buttons."
Lord Redhill snorted. Then he waved impatiently at the back doorway. "Well, go on. Open up. We'll have a spot of tea while I look at Gwen's accounts. And if all is as it should be, then I will consider your proposal."
Anthony nodded, more curses sinking like stones into his gut. Lord Redhill was not going to be fobbed off easily. Which meant the odds of seeing Francine had just dwindled to almost nothing. But there was no help for it now. With an internal sigh, he opened the back door and ushered the man inside. Lord Redhill stepped in, his manner quiet, thank God. Anthony followed, shutting the door behind him. He would have spoken, but at that very moment he heard Francine's voice, and he lost all power of thought.
"It feels divine!" she cried. Her voice struck him at a gut level, as it always did. But this time she was obviously happy, her voice lifted in joy. Lord, he could just picture her face at that moment: flushed and sparkling. It was how she looked at him whenever they first caught sight of one another.
He moved instinctively toward the sound, but there was a curtain divider between the fitting area and the back room. Much as he wanted to burst through there to embrace his Francine, it wasn't appropriate for him to do such a thing. He had no hold on Francine, and even if he did, she was getting a dress fitting for God's sake. Not showing off for her lover.
So he managed a stranglehold on his lust and forced himself to back away, collapsing into a chair set for his use. Lord Redhill was leaning against a table, his head cocked as he listened to what was going on between the women.
The ladies were still talking, though Anthony hadn't heard the words. He gathered Francine had a new gown on that looked wonderful. Of course it did. Anything was better than the monstrosities she typically wore. He'd known from the beginning that Mrs. Mortimer would fix her up, would turn her into the beautiful woman she was.
And then it happened. While he was still schooling himself to be patient, Mrs. Mortimer called through the curtain to him.
"Anthony, would you mind terribly? I have something I need to ask you. Anthony?"
He stood up,
They'd made it to the back door and Anthony had the key, but he was not about to open the door just yet. Not until he had his say. So he planted his feet and looked Lord Redhill in the eye.
"Mrs. Mortimer is the most honest person I know. She explained to Lady Gwen that she couldn't afford to buy the materials for the gowns right now. Not without some cash. In truth, it was my suggestion, and there is nothing untoward about it! What I find appalling is the havey-cavey way some people are about not paying—about delaying payment until a merchant is on his last penny just because the customer has a title!"
It wasn't until Anthony finished his tirade that he remembered one did not usually speak so sharply to a future earl. And if he had any doubts as to the risk he'd just taken, Lord Redhill's narrowed eyes were a good indication.
"I pay my bills. I have never delayed payment to any merchant. Ever."
"Of course, my lord. I did not mean to suggest otherwise."
There was a long pause as the man studied him from head to toe. It was a humiliating inspection, but Anthony held his ground. What he'd said was no more than the absolute truth.
Finally, Lord Redhill spoke, his tone cold. "The shop is on solid footing?"
"If it does not overextend."
"By buying cloth for gowns."
Anthony nodded. "By buying a trousseau's worth of silks and lace and ivory buttons for the daughter of an earl."
Lord Redhill grimaced. "Gwen does like silk and lace."
"And ivory, I believe. She most specifically requested ivory buttons."
Lord Redhill snorted. Then he waved impatiently at the back doorway. "Well, go on. Open up. We'll have a spot of tea while I look at Gwen's accounts. And if all is as it should be, then I will consider your proposal."
Anthony nodded, more curses sinking like stones into his gut. Lord Redhill was not going to be fobbed off easily. Which meant the odds of seeing Francine had just dwindled to almost nothing. But there was no help for it now. With an internal sigh, he opened the back door and ushered the man inside. Lord Redhill stepped in, his manner quiet, thank God. Anthony followed, shutting the door behind him. He would have spoken, but at that very moment he heard Francine's voice, and he lost all power of thought.
"It feels divine!" she cried. Her voice struck him at a gut level, as it always did. But this time she was obviously happy, her voice lifted in joy. Lord, he could just picture her face at that moment: flushed and sparkling. It was how she looked at him whenever they first caught sight of one another.
He moved instinctively toward the sound, but there was a curtain divider between the fitting area and the back room. Much as he wanted to burst through there to embrace his Francine, it wasn't appropriate for him to do such a thing. He had no hold on Francine, and even if he did, she was getting a dress fitting for God's sake. Not showing off for her lover.
So he managed a stranglehold on his lust and forced himself to back away, collapsing into a chair set for his use. Lord Redhill was leaning against a table, his head cocked as he listened to what was going on between the women.
The ladies were still talking, though Anthony hadn't heard the words. He gathered Francine had a new gown on that looked wonderful. Of course it did. Anything was better than the monstrosities she typically wore. He'd known from the beginning that Mrs. Mortimer would fix her up, would turn her into the beautiful woman she was.
And then it happened. While he was still schooling himself to be patient, Mrs. Mortimer called through the curtain to him.
"Anthony, would you mind terribly? I have something I need to ask you. Anthony?"
He stood up,
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