“I like the milliner, Mrs. Kent, and I enjoy my work.”
Prudence gave her an incredulous look. “How on earth do you sort out all those tiny figures?”
“The calculations are not difficult, just time consuming. You must maintain good records and line the numbers up correctly.”
Prudence scoffed. “I will gladly take your word for it.”
They were coming close to the shop now. Grace reached for the door. “I need for you and Rose to stand guard while I conduct my business.”
The shop’s bells chimed as the door opened and closed. A woman with dark curls fading gently to gray and wearing thick spectacles stood behind a counter. She was brushing a green velvet hat and looked up when they stepped inside the shop. Her gaze moved between Grace and Prudence.
“Good morning, ladies,” she said.
“Good day,” Prudence said.
It was always the same. Mrs. Kent never let on that she knew Grace. It was one of the reasons Grace had felt comfortable agreeing to handle the widow’s books secretly.
They strolled into the shop where a handful of ladies were examining and trying on the wares. Bonnets decorated with feathers, ribbons, lace, fake flowers, and spangles were displayed on stands around the shop. More bonnets, hats, and turbans made from silk, satin, velvet, and straw were arranged on tables. Grace nodded to the other shoppers as she walked past the shopkeeper and slipped her package on the counter.
“Did you have trouble with your items, miss?” Mrs. Kent asked. To any in the store, it would appear as if Grace were a customer who wished to speak with the proprietress.
“Only as noted.”
Mrs. Kent lowered her voice and leaned on the counter. “Ah, I have more work for you. Also, the tobacconist shop next door could use your services. I never mentioned your name, of course.”
“Of course,” Grace whispered.
She trusted Mrs. Kent to keep her confidence. She’d been working for the widow for a little over six months now after her husband’s passing. Mr. Kent had handled the shop’s accounting needs, and his wife had been struggling to take over the task. Grace had happened to be in the shop to hear Mrs. Kent complaining to her son about the ledgers, and she’d offered to work for the woman. It had been a mutually beneficial relationship. But to begin work for another business could impose risk.
She hadn’t lied to Prudence. She was good at her work and enjoyed it. More compellingly, she needed the money. Grace’s arrangement with Ian would erase her father’s debt to the Raven Club. But she still needed money to ensure the smooth running of the household and to properly take care of Adam.
Grace smiled at Mrs. Kent, feigning interest in the green velvet hat in the shopkeeper’s hands. “Please tell the owner I shall visit to discuss his offer.” Like many aristocracy, her father used snuff. No one would question her presence in the shop, especially if she picked up a tin of her father’s favorite tobacco during her visits.
Mrs. Kent pushed her spectacles farther up her nose. “I’ll make the arrangements, miss.”
A young man came from the back room carrying a tall stack of hat boxes. Grace recognized the handsome youth who was Mrs. Kent’s son. He smiled when he spotted Grace. “Good day, miss.”
“Good day, Jonathan.” Grace wasn’t certain if he knew of her work for his mother, but she suspected he knew something. Jonathan was always polite when Grace frequented the place, and he helped his mother with the shop.
Her business concluded, Grace joined Prudence behind a row of tall shelves.
“Is all well?”
“Mrs. Kent says the tobacconist next door could also use my bookkeeping services.”
“Are you sure you need to?”
Grace reached for a straw bonnet with fake flowers. “You mean work? Yes, and it’s not much hardship. I’m good with numbers.”
Prudence wrinkled her nose. “I still don’t understand how. Mother has been trying to teach me how to run a household after I marry, and she insists I must regularly meet with the steward. All those little numbers make my head ache.”
“For once, I agree with your mother. How else will you know if you are being cheated by your servants or others?”
“Posh! I’d rather talk about gentlemen.” Prudence pursed her lips. “Gentlemen like Lord Castleton. Did you know there are other fascinating rumors about the earl?”
“Such as?”
“That Castleton is responsible for his brother’s death.”
Grace’s fingers tightened on the bonnet in her hands, and she looked at Prudence. “That’s ludicrous.” The denial was out before she could stop herself.
“Why?” Prudence asked. “Some say he wanted the earldom and its wealth.”
Grace had no proof that Ian had nothing to do with his brother’s death, but deep down in the marrow of her bones, she knew such malicious gossip was false. “How do they say he killed his brother?”
“A horse race. His brother fell and broke his neck. Only the two of them were racing. No witnesses were present.”
“If there were no witnesses, then how can they believe the earl caused his brother’s death?”
“He coerced him to ride recklessly.”
Her fingers began twisting the bonnet again. “I don’t believe it.”
“How would you know?”
Ian didn’t want the earldom or the title. He resented being called “my lord.” From what she could surmise, he didn’t need the wealth.
How much to tell? “I just find it hard to believe. How could he know his brother would fall off his horse and die?” Grace placed the straw bonnet back on the shelf. The flowers were twisted where she’d tightly gripped them.
Prudence shrugged. “You make a good argument. I cannot wait to meet him! Mother is insisting I marry soon, and to a titled gentleman, but no one has caught my fancy this Season. Maybe Lord Castleton will be my answer.”
For some reason, her friend’s remark disturbed Grace. She rubbed her temples and felt the beginnings of a headache. “You just said there are rumors he caused his brother’s death to inherit the earldom, and now you are considering marrying him?”
“You pointed out it isn’t likely.”
Grace’s headache grew. “Yes, but—”
The shop’s bells chimed, and they both looked from behind a shelf to see a group of ladies enter.
“Look who has arrived,” Prudence said. “It’s Lady Castleton, the earl’s mother.”
Ian’s mother was here?
Grace peeked from behind the shelf. She spotted two young girls and an older woman who she recognized as Lady Taddlesworth from her meeting at the Orphaned Children’s Relief Society.
“Ugh. Lady Taddlesworth is with them. The woman frightens me,” Prudence said.
“Why?” Grace was wary around the woman herself. Lady Taddlesworth had attempted to intimidate her at the last meeting, but Grace had still found the gumption to offer her own opinions on how best to help the orphans. She wasn’t sure why Prudence didn’t like her.
“She’s friendly with all the patronesses of Almack’s, and one word from her in Lady Jersey’s ear, and I won’t get a voucher. Mother will have a fit.”