Squeezing around a large sign, I spotted the table, my eyes searching desperately for beige fabric. Just as I approached the edge of the table, a rustling sounded directly underneath it. I drew an anxious breath, taking a step back.
A man appeared near my shoes, climbing out from below the table. My eyes widened in shock as he recovered himself. Where on earth had he come from? He bore no resemblance to a shopkeeper.
In fact, he looked quite the gentleman. A fashionable coat clung tightly to broad shoulders and a wide chest. He had a breezy air about him, with full, smiling lips and a clean-shaven jaw, his dark, wavy hair loosely drifting over his forehead. But it was his eyes that captivated me. They were the clearest green, boring into mine without reservation. The man chuckled through my scrutiny, and I burned to my ears with embarrassment. My gaze had lingered too long.
“Pardon me,” he said, a smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he dusted off his knees. “My search led me to a pile of stray fabrics under the table. This shop is rather disorganized, is it not?”
What a strange man. The corners of my lips twitched as he ruffled his hair. “Terribly,” I responded. “Excuse me.”
Reminding myself of my goal and my limited time, I twisted around him and began sorting through the dreadfully unorganized accessories on the table.
But the man did not leave. He moved closer to me, lifting a cherry-colored ribbon from the table. An odd bubbling sensation filled my chest, and I did not like how flustered it made me.
“Perhaps I can help you find what you are looking for,” he offered, clearing his throat.
I turned, eyebrows raised in interest. “Have you seen a pair of beige gloves? I’ve been sent back for the very last pair, and I’m in a bit of hurry.”
The smile on his lips fell instantly, and I dropped my gaze to his rising hand—and the gloves he held.
“Oh, you’ve found them. You won’t mind, will you? My sister left her last short pair at an inn, and I—”
“I am sorry.” He shook his head. “But I cannot give these up. My younger sister, who is, I am sure, far more commanding and much whinier than yours, will have my head if I return without these. She’s found a spot on hers that will not do, and these happen to be just the right size.”
“A spot? That can be remedied. My sister is without gloves entirely, sir. I am afraid this little shop is our only hope of acquiring a pair before arriving at a rather important house party. Surely your sister will understand.” I held out my palm, hoping I’d pled my case sufficiently. The man had done his duty to his sister by arguing her case, but clearly Clara’s need was greater.
“I assure you she would not, unfortunately.” He flashed me a look of meaningful regret with a deep sigh, and I retracted my hand. “Allow me to offer you their value in currency as recompense for her disappointment. You seem like a reasonable woman.”
“I do not want your money, sir. And I assure you, I am not at all a reasonable woman.” I folded my arms across my chest, the ridiculousness of my last statement bringing heat to my cheeks.
The stranger tilted his head, eyes studying me, before allowing himself a light laugh. “Well, then, in that case, allow me to seek out another pair and deliver them to you. Where will you be staying?”
“If it is so easy for you to secure another pair of gloves, can you not give me the one in your hand and seek out another for yourself?” I bit my lip. I had little experience swaying men, charming them even, and if London was any judge, I failed more than I succeeded.
“I’m afraid I am pressed for time. If these gloves were not so desperately desired, I believe you would be well worth the scolding.” A teasing glint sparkled in his eyes.
The nerve of this man! Did he wish to humiliate me? I’d all but begged for his mercy and was refused, and now, mortified. What a terrible advocate I was turning out to be.
“Name your price.” I lifted my reticule, praying silently this was not a man of too great a fortune or I would make myself into an even greater fool to deny him. But how could Clara face Sir Ronald without gloves? We would be finished before we even began. “I must have those gloves.”
“You reject my money and offer me yours?” He narrowed his gaze almost pityingly. “Money is not something I have in short supply. I am sorry, but I must insist on maintaining my hold.”
I frowned dejectedly, heat flaming up my neck. I could not argue with him without risk of further embarrassment. “Good day to you,” I said, managing a brief curtsy.
Snatching a peach-colored ribbon from the table, I hurried to the front of the store. I would not return to Clara empty-handed.
“Wait,” he called after me. But I did not spare a second glance.
Just as I rounded the corner to the counter, the arrogant man quickened his pace and stole ahead of me. I imagined pushing him aside and demanding service, but he was already in conversation with the clerk. For all his charm, he was decidedly not a gentleman in the honorable sense of the word. I gritted my teeth.
After paying his fees, he took the brown paper package from the clerk and turned to me again, a gentleness touching his voice. “You must tell me where you are staying. I want to make this right for you, and for your sister.”
“You are being impertinent. I do not know you at all, sir. And honestly, after this interaction, I do not wish to.” Humiliation welled in my chest like a fire that refused to be extinguished, and I choked on the fumes.
“Allow me to change your mind. At least tell me your name.” He stepped sideways, blocking me from moving forward to the clerk with my ribbon.
“I rarely change my mind. Do not waste your time. Excuse me.” I lifted the ribbon in my hand to the clerk, but the presumptuous man grabbed my arm.
“Your name?”
“Amelia,” I said curtly. Impertinence matched with impertinence. Knowing only my Christian name would not help him find me. “My name is Amelia.”
I elbowed him aside and opened my reticule as the clerk packaged up Clara’s new ribbon.
“I hope I see you again, Amelia,” the man said.
Staring straight at the clerk, I waited for the clang of the closing door. Satisfied that the man had departed, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.
The clerk handed me a brown package. “Good day to you, miss.”
“I have not yet paid, sir.” I rolled the package over in my hands. It was much too big to contain one small ribbon.
“The gentleman added your ribbon with his others and paid for you. Good day.”
I stood, mouth agape, as the clerk returned to his paperwork as though nothing amiss had happened, and an anger rose in my chest that rivaled even Lord Gray’s foulest of moods. Who was this man? Had I not plainly told him I was uninterested in his money or his help? I bolted toward the door, furiously bent on finding him, on telling that irritable man exactly what I thought of him and his unwanted recompense.