Jane looked to Gabriel once more, desperately wishing the coolly aloof gentleman who’d turned her out after a brief meeting would point out that there was no need for such a purchase—not on behalf of his sister’s companion.
He sketched a quick bow and, with a heavy dose of relief stamped on the angular planes of his face, he hurried from the shop.
Coward.
Though—she eyed the front door he disappeared out of enviously, tempted to race after him.
“What of this color, Jane?” Chloe held up a soft pink fabric.
Alas, Gabriel’s sister had altogether different plans for her. With a sigh, she allowed the two women to drag her forward to be fitted for something more than dragon skirts.
And the unexpected thrill that went through her was not excitement.
Jane sighed. Then, she’d proven herself a liar just by joining Gabriel’s family. She was the very tiniest bit excited.
Chapter 10
Lady Chloe Edgerton marched with a military precision Lord Wellington himself would have admired. She neatly steered Jane through the crowded streets, while keeping her gaze fixed determinedly ahead of them.
Gabriel followed his sister’s stare to the black and gold sign: Harding Howell and Co. An involuntary groan escaped him. He and Jane spoke in unison.
“Not another blasted shop.”
“Surely, we’ve completed our shopping for the day.”
Granted, his sister’s companion’s words were a good deal more appropriate than his. Jane shot him a sideways, commiserative glance, an apology there. He inclined his head. It was hardly Mrs. Jane Munroe’s fault that his sister had set her mind on the day’s activities.
“We must bring Jane to Harding’s.”
“No,” Jane said firmly with a shake of her head. “No, you do not. Please,” there was an entreaty he’d not imagined Jane Munroe capable of. “You’ve been overly generous. There is nothing else I require.”
His sister slowed her determined steps and steered Jane to a halt. She jabbed a finger in the air. “Fans.”
“Fans,” Jane and Gabriel parroted.
And all of a sudden, Chloe, who’d detested any and every trip to the modiste and milliners, had discovered a love of fashion. She nodded her head vigorously. “Yes. A fan. You require a—” She glared at Jane when she opened her mouth to speak. “And do not say you are just a companion. Is that clear?” With that, she took Jane by the hand and yanked her inside the shop.
Jane cast a desperate glance over her shoulder. Despite the havoc wrought by the infernal closeness to his sister’s tart-mouthed companion, a grin turned his lips. She narrowed her eyes, as though she’d followed the exact direction of his thoughts. He knew her but a handful of days and yet knew her enough to know precisely how to needle the young woman. Gabriel winked.
Her eyes flew wide in her face. Whatever furious response she likely planned with blistering words were effectively quelled by his determined sister. Chloe motioned to the back of the expansive shop. “At the very least, you’ll require one fan.” With that, she marched down the rows draped in fabrics, passed by other shoppers, onward, to the rear of the establishment.
Jane shot a long glance over her shoulder at the door, as though contemplating escape. Gabriel wandered close, closer than was proper or appropriate and attracted assessing stares from the other patrons. “A woman who’d boldly challenge me with an empty plate in my own breakfast room wouldn’t be so cowardly as to run from a fan.”
She shoved her spectacles higher on her nose. “There is sizeable conceit to a charge from a gentleman who ran from the modiste as though his heels were on fire.”
A bark of laughter escaped him. The boisterous sound of his mirth earning all the more attention.
Jane’s cheeks pinkened to a soft pale hue. “Must you do that?” she said from the corner of her mouth. “You are earning whispers.” Without awaiting his reply, she made her way down the aisle. She moved past the furs and the muslins without sparing a glance for any of the expensive fabrics.
He’d long ago ceased to give a fig for what members of polite Society thought. “I don’t give a jot about whispers or gossip.” It was hard to respect or trust a lot who’d revered the previous Marquess of Waverly.