Read Online His Forbidden Debutante by Anabelle Bryant - Free Book Online
Authors: Anabelle Bryant
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Horne.’ She whipped around as if to snap her attention away from the window and into the current circumstance, tucking Lord W’s image away for closer inspection later.
Mr Horne wore a frown of apology, two empty boxes held in his hands. ‘I cannot explain the mistake and regret to tell you the orchid silks you meant to purchase are not here. I suppose we will have to wait and see if they are returned in good faith.’
Who would ever return such stunning shoes? As Livie recalled, the footman who had interrupted her purchase left with his arms piled high. The lady he served was likely as addicted to footwear as she. One glimpse at the orchid slippers and all hope of their return would be lost. Her only expectation of recovery was if the slippers proved the wrong size. Mr Horne hadn’t mentioned the shoe clips. She could only surmise he had no knowledge of them being inside the box. He didn’t seem concerned in the least.
‘Then I won’t dare mention my disappointment.’ Clever the way she was able to continue the conversation though her mind spun in an alternate direction. Perhaps she should venture across the street and into the same shop she’d seen Lord W enter. There was no harm in following the path of curiosity, was there? The memory of their daring waltz stayed with her as if the melody continued. She’d never been so close to a man before. Well, not in the fashion in which he had held her. She found it difficult to assign a label to explain her reaction. Her pulse had leapt, skittered and vibrated during their dance, a series of thoughts and emotions erupting like fireworks in her brain, and his abrupt departure from the hall once he discovered he’d pulled her too close revealed the most significant detail of all.
He’d experienced the same.
‘May I show you something else while you’re here? I have a darling pair of walking boots in byzantine suede and, if they do not suit, you may prefer the high-throated design with black-striped silk and covered heel.’
Huffing a satisfied breath, she dismissed Mr Horne’s suggestion with a waggle of her fingers, her feet already aimed towards the door. ‘Never mind.’ She couldn’t think to explain otherwise and left the shop straightaway, imposing the slightest pause to glance both ways before jetting into the roadway. A little voice reminded her that Dinah waited in the carriage down the street and that she needed to return home to complete her costume for this evening’s masquerade, but the sensible suggestion fell on deaf ears.
Adopting an attitude of fortified determination, she twisted the brass knob and entered the haberdashery with cautious steps and bold ideas. No one was visible, although she could hear the tailors at work in the backroom and a deep, rich voice that instantly identified Lord W as one of the customers being fitted. Lud, she hadn’t thought to note the crest on the carriage door. She needed to do so as she left. For curiosity’s sake, and no other reason. She shifted from one foot to the other. What would Dashwood say if she were discovered in a men’s tailoring parlour? Perhaps the idea wasn’t her smartest. She’d wait one minute, no more. Wilhelmina’s strict reminder that she must protect her reputation above all else rang loud in her ears.
When it became painfully clear Fate would not present Lord W in a serendipitous coincidence and that she would have to summon a clerk by ringing the bell on the counter, Livie backed towards the door, all at once aware of how silly she must appear. Better she left undetected than be caught stuttering at the counter with no real reason to be inside, victim to a damning rumour.
She closed the door with a click and nearly tripped over the same plump, ginger-coloured cat who’d now dropped itself to the floorboards directly outside the haberdashery’s entrance. The creature deemed her worthy of an insolent yowl, although the tabby didn’t move and Livie muttered a complaint, as if
Mr Horne wore a frown of apology, two empty boxes held in his hands. ‘I cannot explain the mistake and regret to tell you the orchid silks you meant to purchase are not here. I suppose we will have to wait and see if they are returned in good faith.’
Who would ever return such stunning shoes? As Livie recalled, the footman who had interrupted her purchase left with his arms piled high. The lady he served was likely as addicted to footwear as she. One glimpse at the orchid slippers and all hope of their return would be lost. Her only expectation of recovery was if the slippers proved the wrong size. Mr Horne hadn’t mentioned the shoe clips. She could only surmise he had no knowledge of them being inside the box. He didn’t seem concerned in the least.
‘Then I won’t dare mention my disappointment.’ Clever the way she was able to continue the conversation though her mind spun in an alternate direction. Perhaps she should venture across the street and into the same shop she’d seen Lord W enter. There was no harm in following the path of curiosity, was there? The memory of their daring waltz stayed with her as if the melody continued. She’d never been so close to a man before. Well, not in the fashion in which he had held her. She found it difficult to assign a label to explain her reaction. Her pulse had leapt, skittered and vibrated during their dance, a series of thoughts and emotions erupting like fireworks in her brain, and his abrupt departure from the hall once he discovered he’d pulled her too close revealed the most significant detail of all.
He’d experienced the same.
‘May I show you something else while you’re here? I have a darling pair of walking boots in byzantine suede and, if they do not suit, you may prefer the high-throated design with black-striped silk and covered heel.’
Huffing a satisfied breath, she dismissed Mr Horne’s suggestion with a waggle of her fingers, her feet already aimed towards the door. ‘Never mind.’ She couldn’t think to explain otherwise and left the shop straightaway, imposing the slightest pause to glance both ways before jetting into the roadway. A little voice reminded her that Dinah waited in the carriage down the street and that she needed to return home to complete her costume for this evening’s masquerade, but the sensible suggestion fell on deaf ears.
Adopting an attitude of fortified determination, she twisted the brass knob and entered the haberdashery with cautious steps and bold ideas. No one was visible, although she could hear the tailors at work in the backroom and a deep, rich voice that instantly identified Lord W as one of the customers being fitted. Lud, she hadn’t thought to note the crest on the carriage door. She needed to do so as she left. For curiosity’s sake, and no other reason. She shifted from one foot to the other. What would Dashwood say if she were discovered in a men’s tailoring parlour? Perhaps the idea wasn’t her smartest. She’d wait one minute, no more. Wilhelmina’s strict reminder that she must protect her reputation above all else rang loud in her ears.
When it became painfully clear Fate would not present Lord W in a serendipitous coincidence and that she would have to summon a clerk by ringing the bell on the counter, Livie backed towards the door, all at once aware of how silly she must appear. Better she left undetected than be caught stuttering at the counter with no real reason to be inside, victim to a damning rumour.
She closed the door with a click and nearly tripped over the same plump, ginger-coloured cat who’d now dropped itself to the floorboards directly outside the haberdashery’s entrance. The creature deemed her worthy of an insolent yowl, although the tabby didn’t move and Livie muttered a complaint, as if
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