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“His Lordship even gave me one of his handkerchiefs to carry!” Jimmy said. “It’s really nice and soft.” Taking it out of his pocket, he demanded that his mother and Eve feel it. Neither of them had the heart to tell him that most gentlemen’s handkerchiefs were “nice and soft.”
The butler approached her. “That reminds me, Miss Archer. His Lordship gave me a handkerchief for you, too.”
“Really?” She couldn’t imagine why.
“He said to tell you that it had been Miss Davenant’s. That it was for luck.”
Natalie’s embroidered handkerchief. He’d given her the handkerchief of the sister he still mourned? That was so unbearably sweet that tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away. It was hard not to see that as a hopeful sign.
“I fear we cannot wait for Noel any longer,” his mother said. “Shall we go now, ladies? And gentleman?”
While Jimmy preened at that, the ladies reluctantly agreed they’d best return to the palace. Carrying Eve’s embroidered slippers in a cloth bag, they climbed into the carriage. But Eve couldn’t shake her worry that something was wrong to make him so late.
She must not have been the only one worrying. Everyone but Jimmy was silent on the way to St. James’s Palace. He chattered on about what going to a tailor was like and how he couldn’t wait to see the queen. They indulged him by smiling and pretending to be interested the whole way to the palace. Fortunately, it wasn’t far from Mayfair.
As soon as they arrived, they entered the large room designated for displaying the embroidered items. They’d all spent the afternoon placing sprigs of holly on tables, hanging kissing boughs from the ceiling, and festooning evergreen branches about the room. It looked and smelled like Christmas, making Eve smile.
They headed for where they knew Eve’s item was supposed to be displayed. They had almost reached her spot when she heard Lady Cokesbury groan beside her, and she looked up to see Noel in the midst of a discussion with an elegantly dressed blonde woman.
Eve caught her breath as she glanced at Lady Cokesbury. “Is that … Lady Margaret?”
The viscountess’s gaze met hers. “You know about her?”
“Yes. Noel is planning on making her an offer of marriage.”
“Not anymore, I daresay,” Lady Cokesbury remarked as she nodded to the pair and broke into a smile.
Eve followed her gaze. The two were now in a heated argument. Noel was stabbing his finger at the item on the table between them. Then he stalked away from her, his expression resolute.
Meanwhile, behind him Lady Margaret caught sight of Eve with Noel’s mother. The smug look that the woman shot Eve would have withered any ordinary woman.
It made Eve despair.
Noel spotted them and strode toward them at once. Oh, how delicious he looked in his evening finery. Oh, how she hated that she cared so much.
When he reached them, his mother asked, “What the devil was so important that you had to go to your attorney’s today, of all days?”
“I’ll get to that in a moment. I came straight to the palace, hoping I might catch all of you before you left to go home and dress. Apparently, I’m running later than I thought.” He turned to Eve. “But at least I now know who’s been following you and James.”
“It’s my uncle, isn’t it?” Eve asked. “He had one of his servants doing it. Is that why you went to your attorney’s?”
“No. Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t your uncle’s man following you. It was Lady Margaret. Or rather, her servant.”
“She told you that?” his mother said incredulously.
“She didn’t have to.” He glanced at Eve. “The minute I saw her submission I knew. The bloody woman stole your design for the slippers.”
“You said ‘bloody’!” Jimmy cried. “In front of ladies, too, and you’re not supposed to!”
“Quiet!” he and Eve said together.
Jimmy lapsed into a sullen silence.
“What do you mean?” Eve asked.
“I can only guess she heard from one of our servants about your recent appearance at Cokesbury Place. Then she must have set her own servant to following you, and the chap found your drawings on the dyeworks wall. He copied them and gave them to her. That’s the only explanation I have for why her submission is a pair of slippers embroidered exactly the way your old design was drawn— with holly leaves.”
“The devil you say!” Lady Cokesbury exclaimed.
