Quick, Amanda

Free Quick, Amanda by The Paid Companion

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with highflyers in Society.
    But I cannot write those bits with any conviction because I know almost nothing about life in Polite
    Circles.”
    “I thought you said you had a Season?”
    “It lasted less than a fortnight because Harold made his offer almost immediately after he met me. In any
    event, that was fourteen years ago, so I am very much out of touch.”
    “I think I begin to understand your dilemma.”
    Margaret sat forward. “When Arthur asked me to help him with his scheme I thought it would be the
    perfect opportunity to come to London to observe and record details of the Social World. So naturally I
    told him that I would be delighted.” She threw up her hands in despair. “But that was before I realized
    that he also expected me to deal with the gowns and all of the rest of what it takes to go into Society.”
    “Ah.”
    “I am very sorry, Elenora, but I do not have any notion of how to go about locating the most fashionable
    dressmaker or milliner or glove maker. I feel I should confess to Arthur, but if I do he will surely send me
    home and find someone else to act as your chaperone.”
    “Hmm.”
    Margaret gave her an expectant look. “What are you thinking?” Elenora smiled. “I am thinking that there
    is no reason to bother Arthur with these pesky problems. I’m sure we can handle them without too much
    trouble.” She thought about the pile of cards she’d spotted heaped on the tarnished salver on the hail
    table. “Arthur’s title and position will ensure that we have any number of invitations. All we really need is
    the name of a skilled dressmaker. She will be able to guide us to all the most fashionable shops.”
    “How do you propose to find the right dressmaker?”
    Elenora chuckled. “My former employer was somewhat unusual when it came to her taste in clothing.
    She preferred to wear only garments made of purple fabric.”
    “How odd.”
    “Perhaps. But Mrs. Egan is nothing if not a lady of fashion. I can assure you that every single one of her
    purple gowns was created by a most exclusive dressmaker, one with whom I am well acquainted
    because I accompanied my employer on several trips to her shop.”
    “But she will surely recognize you.”
    “I do not think that need concern us,” Elenora said. “During my time with Mrs. Egan I learned that good
    dressmakers rise to the heights of their profession not just through skill but also because they have a
    talent for discretion when it comes to the affairs of their most important clients.”
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    Margaret’s eyes sparkled. “And as the future bride of the Earl of St. Merryn, you certainly qualify as a
    very important client.”
    7
    Ibbitts stood in the darkness of the linen closet and considered closely the conversation he had
    overheard earlier.
    It was quite by accident that he had discovered the small hole in the hidden wall panel that made it
    possible for someone inside the closet to eavesdrop on conversations in the library. He suspected that the
    secret opening had been cut many years before, by a clever servant who’d had the good sense to keep
    track of his employers’ business.
    One thing was certain, Ibbitts thought. He had been right about Miss Lodge. He had known from that
    very first moment when he had caught her examining the dusty table in the hail that there was something
    strange about her. True, she had smiled at him, the way women always did, but he had not detected the
    telltale flash of lust in her eyes. Not even a glimmer of sensual interest.
    She had admired him the way one might admire an attractive painting or work of art; with appreciation
    but nothing more.
    It was most unusual and somewhat disturbing. His face was his fortune, as his mother had predicted, and
    people, especially women, always responded to his fine looks.
    He had been aware straight from the cradle that his handsome features were a great asset. Even as

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