Free The Christmas Carriage by Grace Burrowes Page B

one’s best.”
    Lizzie studied the lady, then the fabric. She took the bolt and held it up to the other woman’s face. Outside the snow was going to make the walk home a challenge, but the red was really not quite right for the woman’s coloring.
    “We had best keep looking, ma’am. You’re right to hesitate, because we can do better, I’m sure. And the lace is important, too. Lace can make all the difference.”
    A conspiratorial gleam lit the lady’s eye. “I’m Anna. Shall we have a spot of chocolate while we deliberate?”
    Lizzie adored chocolate. Whenever Frederick had come to call, she’d ordered chocolate, thinking it a treat for him, and a way to make him linger a few minutes longer in her company.
    “Chocolate would suit wonderfully,” Lizzie said. The shop girl bobbed a curtsey, and scurried off as Anna moved to another bolt of red, not as bright as the first one. “How about this one? It’s a bit more dignified, don’t you think?”
    The lady would want something dignified, for all her friendliness. Something beautiful. “I’ve always favored the purple tones, ma’am. Aubergine is lovely, or a deep, rosy violet, perhaps?”
    The chocolate arrived, the snow came down, and Lizzie lost track of time in the midst of pretty fabrics, good company, and a need to ignore a lonely despair that only grew worse as Christmas grew closer.
    ***
    “It appears we’re stuck,” Westhaven observed. “Too many holiday shoppers.”
    Frederick wanted to pound on the roof, so wroth was his supervisor going to be with him.
    “Why the cabbie tried to maneuver directly down The Strand is beyond me,” Frederick muttered. “And the snow isn’t helping.”
    “You’re afraid you’ll lose your position over a single incidence of tardiness?” Westhaven asked.
    “One can,” Frederick replied, watching as two footman collided, their packages going everywhere. The passersby stopped and started gathering up the items, restacking each fellows’ arms with presents. “Times are hard, and positions difficult to come by. Then too, my supervisor regards every Scotsman as a potential traitor. His people fought at Culloden, and for him the battle yet rages.”
    Westhaven had the look of an Eton man. Polished, clean, tidy, and quietly wealthy. If his people had been at Culloden, they’d have been leading the charge.
    “More Scots fought for the crown at Culloden than against it,” he remarked. “Your supervisor sounds like some of my father’s cronies. Set in their ways, mired in the past, and without the sense to see the gifts immediately before them.”
    The coach stopped all forward progress again. “We can all get set in our ways,” Frederick said, “and you’re right. It is a blessing to have a job. It’s a blessing to be able to send some coin north for my family. It’s a blessing to share a cab fare I ought not to be splurging on.”
    To admit blessings was not the same thing as finding joy in the day, but Westhaven smiled at him as if he understood this.
    “You forgot that the straw in our conveyance is clean, and we’ve been good boys this year. Father Christmas might yet have a treat or two for us, right?”
    Westhaven was clearly a wealthy man, but he’d admitted to having had difficulties wooing his lady, and his smile suggested a degree of understanding Frederick hadn’t expected to find on a simple cab ride.
    “Very good boys,” Frederick said. Good, but lonely for his lady, and trying not to despair.
    ***
    “You must allow me to take you up with me,” Anna said. “I’ve wasted half your day on my fripperies, and all because our coloring is similar. You’re very kind to spend time on a stranger this way.”
    “I’ve enjoyed it,” Lizzie said, “and the dress will look spectacular on you.”
    “This snow is spectacular,” Anna replied, pulling on white wool gloves. “My carriage will be right outside, and I will not hear of you making your way home on foot.”
    Frederick had no