Read Online Red Jack's Daughter by Edith Layton - Free Book Online

great deal of talking as well in response to him, but there was never a refusal, not even one little peep of protest, even though every inch brought them closer to the very place she had formerly refused to even contemplate entering.
    Their conversation had to do with naught but politics and horses—which was highly irregular, of course—but for the moment, the girl was agreeable and that was enough.
    It was true that Miss Eastwood was prepared to ignore Alex’s hand and spring down from the coach unaided, but as he quickly grasped her arm and smoothly assisted her anyway, even that small gaffe was overlooked by Lady Grantham as she stood beaming, waiting to enter the shop. While it was a lso true that the young woman checked and seemed to shrink within herself as she stepped across Madame Celeste’s portals, it was again. Lord Leith who smoothed the way by prodding her gently into the room and continuing to chat lightly with her.
    It was a well-decorated anteroom, more like a private salon with its oriental carpets, small tables, and gilt chairs tastefully arranged about it, than like a shop. The proprietress herself looked more of a society woman than a tradesperson, but that was what made her reputation among the highest of the Ton, just as much as her creations did. For one never felt as though one were dealing in trade when patronizing this establishment, so much as paying a pleasant afternoon call. Lady Grantham explained her errand while Lord Leith kept Miss Eastwood in conversation. That, however, he found, was getting to be more difficult, as Miss Eastwood’s eyes kept wandering about the room and her hands began to clutch her reticule more tightly. She began to resemble a startled colt and there was an almost imperceptible leap of her person when the stout, little dark-eyed Madame Celeste was introduced to her.
    “Ah, yes, charming,” Madame Celeste purred. “And if you will come with me, chérie , we will proceed to do the measuring and some preliminary fitting.”
    Madame Celeste swept her hand forward to indicate the way Miss Eastwood should go, but the young woman simply stood as though rooted to the spot and said simply, “Is that really necessary? Could I not just give you one of my old frocks? You could get the size from that, I’m sure.”
    Lady Grantham froze and Madame Celeste appeared puzzled. But Lord Leith said lightly, “Yes, that would appear to be simpler, I grant you, Jessica. But even though it is time-consuming and rather a bore—(forgive me, Madam e Celeste, but although we all admire your creations, the construction of them is a mystery to us)—even I Jessica, have to donate some of my time to my tailor. A proper fit is essential in tailoring, my dear, so you needs must accompany the good woman to ensure one. ”
    Although this speech seemed extraordinary to all the other females present, it seemed to strike the right note to the one it was addressed to.
    “Yes,” Miss Eastwood said finally, “I can see that.” Without another demurral, Miss Eastwood, raising her chin and gripping her reticule again, marched off toward the b ack room with much the same determination of a young lady ste eling herself to have a tooth drawn, rather than to have a gown fitted.
    When she had disappeared into the back of the shop with an eager Madame Celeste in pursuit, Lady Grantham sank to a chair. “Alex,” she breathed, “however did you accomplish t hat? I have explained and importuned, but the chit would ha ve none of it. She is a most unnatural female. Yet you breezed her in here and into Madame Celeste’s fitting rooms without a murmur. I have underestimated you, Alex. No wonder you haven’t wed,” she added in chagrin, “when you c a n most likely talk any female into anything you choose.”
    “Would that were so, dear Aunt.” The gentleman la ughed, settling his long frame into a chair by her side. “I am not so gifted, I fear. But your mistake is to consider Miss Eastwood an