To which all three ladies burst out laughing. And before they could catch their breath, Melinda found herself chuckling.
“I can play,” she said, somewhat shocked to realize that she could. She would. And she might even enjoy it.
“Excellent,” Eleanor crowed. “Now do we add antennae to the cloak or not?”
She thought about it seriously for a moment. She thought about all the different types of sensory equipment on insects. She pondered strict adherence to science and immediately discarded it. This was fun, not fact.
“Many species of cricket have the most elegant long antennae that can sweep wide or drape elegantly down their backs.” She gestured for the paper and was immediately offered pad and pencil. “Perhaps this?” she asked as she drew a pair of curving lines down the back of the cloak, vaguely suggestive of a woman’s form.
“Oh, excellent!” cried Eleanor.
“I know just how to do it,” added the duchess.
But it was Lady Redhill who summarized things exactly. “Oh my, this is going to be so much fun!”
They discussed their plans in earnest until the carriage arrived at A Lady’s Favor dress shop. Mellie was feeling significantly better as she disembarked, finally stepping foot in the most fashionable shopping district of London. It’s not that she hadn’t shopped before. In London even. But she’d never felt at ease among the elite until now. Heavens, right now, a duchess and two ladies surrounded her!
The moment that the duchess opened the shop door, they heard an argument. In truth, it could be heard from the street, but Mellie hadn’t paid much attention. It was just more noise among the call of hawkers and the like. But once inside, they all realized the shrill voices were coming from the shop’s back room.
“What the devil?” Lady Redhill murmured as she headed straight through the welcoming parlor. The duchess was barely a step behind, which left Mellie and Eleanor to exchange startled glances before following.
They entered what was obviously the work area. Mellie saw tables throughout the room, each set up as a workstation. Fabric was everywhere, as were dresses in various states of completion, along with buttons, pins, thread, and other baubles that often decorated clothing. It was so chaotic, in fact, that Mellie had trouble finding the source of the commotion. Until she stepped farther into the room and saw a second doorway, one that clearly led to an alley.
The workers’ entrance, except that it was barred by a furious looking young woman who stood with her arms crossed and her glasses perched on the end of her nose as she glared at the man attempting to enter.
Mellie focused on him because, in her experience, it was usually the man who was the problem. He was thick set with brown hair and broad shoulders. She supposed he was handsome in a rugged way, especially as he hadn’t shaved yet this morning, so his skin cast a shadow on his clenched jaw. But it was his eyes that made her wary. They were a familiar pale brown, almost as if he had an inner light that softened the darkness of every other aspect of his body, and they were narrowed in a sleepy kind of fury. And worse, his hands were clenched into fists where they perched on his hips.
Melinda had plenty of knowledge of large, dumb men. Brutes were dangerous in a raw, powerful way, but this man was large and smart—a dangerous combination—especially since he was clearly angry.
Meanwhile, the duchess pushed her way forward. “Bernard? What are you doing here?”
“Exactly what you asked me to, sis.”
So that’s why his eyes looked familiar. He had the exact same eyes as his sister. Eleanor came to the same conclusion as she whispered in Mellie’s ear.
“That’s Bernard Drew, the duchess’s brother. He’s running the businesses.”
Mellie frowned. “I thought the duchess and Lady Redhill ran A Lady’s Favor.”
“They do,” Eleanor all but hissed. “He’s running theotherbusinesses. The ones wheremengo.” She spoke in clipped tones with clear emphasis. Mellie knew she was supposed to understand a great deal more than the words themselves, but she had little context for it. Men frequented many other establishments. She could be talking anything from haberdasheries to whorehouses.
“I will not let whores and thieves in here!” cried the bespectacled woman.
Ah. Whorehouses then. And perhaps a thieving ring. Goodness, she had no idea that any member of the aristocracy owned such things, much less the duchess herself.
Meanwhile Bernard gestured behind him to a man and woman who stood quietly awaiting their fate. “It’s only one whore and one thief.”
“Bernard!” the duchess groaned. “Don’t antagonize her. And Tabitha, you have no idea what these people have done. We discussed this. We need the help. Orders are piling up.”
“You heard him. A whore and a thief.”
“Yes,” Bernard growled. “Buthe’sthe whore, andshe’sthe thief!”
To which the man cried, “I am not!” and the woman shook her head. “Not anymore, gov. And only for me bread.”
It would have been funny if not for the desperation hidden behind the words. Both thief and whore—for lack of better words—were gaunt and hungry with sunken eyes and sallow skin. Their clothing was threadbare, but clearly someone had made an attempt to clean it. The stains were faded, as if someone had tried to wash them out, and there were patched places that could not be disguised no matter the skill of the seamstress.
The duchess gestured the woman forward, then tugged at the sleeve of the woman’s dress. She held it up to the sunlight, tilting it one way then another. Mellie couldn’t guess why she did it. That appeared to be the one place on the dress that had no damage. Or so she thought.