Free The Seventh Miss Hatfield by Anna Caltabiano Page B

more observant than I’d thought. I’d have to be more careful around him. ‘You look as if you’ve never seen New York before.’ If only he knew how close he was to the truth. ‘Consequently, you must not be from the city.’
    ‘I guess I’m not.’ I smiled at him. Try as he might, he’d never figure me out. He would never guess my real story.
    ‘Here we are,’ Henley said as the carriage pulled to a stop. ‘I think you’ll like Mrs Wetherby’s designs. Even my mother, who I’m told was at times the most impossible woman to satisfy, loved Mrs Wetherby, and claimed she’s the best seamstress in the entire state.’
    Henley exited the carriage on his side, then came around and helped me out. He led me into a quaint shop where we were greeted at once by two ladies. Their dresses were plain compared to the multitude of elaborate fabrics in the shop. A full-length mirror in one corner of the room made the store appear bigger than it was. It mirrored the neat baskets and bundles of fabric, making them look never-ending.
    ‘Hello, Mr Beauford,’ the shorter woman said, already eyeing the dress I was wearing. She was stouter than the younger girl who stood meekly behind her, an arm’s distance from the woman. She had a pleasant, ruddy glow to her face. The older woman continued, ‘I hope we may be of service, whatever you’re looking for. Is it a new morning dress for your lady friend here? We just received a shipment of French fabric, and I dare say the lilac silk would be quite becoming on her, especially layered over a light blue … Don’t you agree, Kitty?’ The girl behind her quickly nodded in agreement.
    ‘Well, not exactly, Mrs Wetherby,’ Henley said. ‘We were hoping for something a bit more … extensive than that.’
    Mrs Wetherby frowned at his words, trying to understand what he meant.
    ‘This is my cousin, Miss Margaret.’ He motioned to me.
    ‘How do you do,’ she said with a nod.
    ‘She’ll be staying with us in the country, but unfortunately her luggage was lost at the station, including all her dresses,’ Henley explained.
    ‘Why, that’s horrible, absolutely ghastly of them!’ Mrs Wetherby interjected. ‘That’s why I never trust those conductors with my luggage. You never know—’
    ‘Ah, yes,’ Henley interrupted her, trying to get her back on track. ‘As you can imagine, she’ll need an entirely new wardrobe of at least twelve dresses by the time we travel.’
    ‘And when would that be?’
    ‘We hope to be off early tomorrow morning.’
    ‘Tomorrow morning? It would be impossible to have everything ready by then. Garments take time to make, you know. They don’t appear magically, ready to be worn—’
    ‘Yes, I do realize that, of course, which is why I hope you can ready at least one dress, one nightdress and … whatever else she would need.’
    I saw a light blush colour his cheeks and didn’t understand why until I realized what they were discussing. For an accomplished young man who appeared to have everything he ever wanted or needed, I found it funny that Henley couldn’t say the word ‘underwear’ – or even ‘undergarments’ – without feeling embarrassed.
    ‘The rest can be sent to us in the country,’ he concluded, his cheeks still pink.
    ‘Then yes, we could have a few of the necessary garments ready by the morning, but you do understand that there will be an increased cost. We’ll be sewing all night.’
    He nodded in an understanding manner. ‘Price will be no problem. Just enter it on our account. My father and I will only have the best for Miss Margaret while she’s in our care.’
    Mrs Wetherby nodded and clicked her tongue as she started directing Kitty to gather fabric of all different colours and textures. As soon as her back was to us, I turned my attention towards Henley once more.
    ‘I really don’t need all that,’ I told him.
    ‘Of course you do. What will you do without a wardrobe? Live in that dress?’
    ‘Well, I