The Duke and the Dressmaker (The St. James Series) (2 page)

Oh, he had noticed what a fine specimen of a woman she was.
Zounds, he could not get the woman out of his mind, and that was what really worried him.

Chapter Two

Sara Downey tugged on her bonnet
in an attempt to hide her face as much as possible as she headed down the street. How embarrassing to be accosted by Miranda Montrose in front of the church before her client’s wedding. Perhaps she should not have come, but she did so wish to see her creation on the bride. It was her first bridal dress, and she was so proud of the fine muslin gown.

But t
hen Miranda had seen her. Why Lady Montrose hated her so, she didn’t know. But she had always treated Sara as if she were the lowest of the gentry. True, Miranda lived in the Berkeley Square neighborhood, but Sara guessed only because of some favors she did for some male in London. Miranda was upper crust only by virtue of her widowhood and her current paramour. She wished she knew who the foolish man was. Miranda possessed the dark sensual looks every woman wished to have. Every male in London wished to have her, too.

Sara sighed, remembering how it felt to be a bride. While she hadn’t been in love with her husband
, Duncan Stanhope, Baron Downey, on their wedding day, she had been fond of him. She had hoped love would grow out of their relationship. Unfortunately, her husband hadn’t stayed around long enough to give their marriage a chance. Six months after their wedding day, he disappeared with a married woman, taking all the money Sara’s father had bequeathed them when he died, leaving her destitute. Or so Duncan believed.

Anger built inside her again
. Why had she not guessed her husband’s motives? All he had wanted was her fortune. No wonder their bed had been such a bore. After all the stories she had heard, she’d thought losing her virginity would be an exciting event. Well, it had not been exciting. Nor had it been special the other two times they’d tried it. In fact, Sara would not be upset if she never had sex again. She had given Duncan everything and had gotten nothing in return.

Thank goodness her father had
had the foresight to put something aside for her that her husband could not touch. She’d been shocked to learn Duncan had sold all their property, but she’d been more surprised when her father’s solicitor had come to her after Duncan had left. He’d advised her of the small fortune her father had hidden from her husband, large enough for her to buy a building and open her own dress shop. Sewing was her passion, so it seemed natural to do something she loved. She prayed it would be enough to support her. Her father’s money would not last forever. She worked many long hours in the hopes of building a solid clientele. But most of all, she enjoyed seeing the excited look on her customer’s faces when they wore their new gowns.

S
ara reached her shop and stepped inside, removing her bonnet. Ironic that she had finally met the duke. She had to admit, he was as handsome as any man she had ever met. But his cold blue eyes certainly killed any attraction she felt for him. Then he had proceeded to insult her in front of half the
ton.

Being part of
the realm had been exciting, at first. Lord Downey had paraded her around to many of the balls and dinners before they were married. She had felt like a princess. However, once they married, their engagements ceased. The invitations still arrived, but Duncan did not want to be seen with her. The cruel things he’d told her others had said about her appearance had hurt. She was no longer interested in being part of the
ton.
She was glad to be away from them. Miranda and her kind were too cruel and conniving for her.

So Duncan had run away with the
duke’s wife. That explained, in part, the coldness in the duke’s eyes. Did he hurt as much as she did over the desertion? At least, he had other family and friends he could rely on for support. Sara’s father had been the last in her family, her mother having died when she was young. They had lived alone in the country with very few acquaintances. The only thing she had left of her mother was a beaded bag, and she treasured that bag. She had hoped to carry it the day of her wedding, but Duncan wouldn’t allow it.

She had lost her father, then her husband, and now all her friends
—
all within the same year. The glorious
ton
wanted nothing to do with her now that her husband was gone. The invitations had stopped coming after his departure. Once she’d opened her shop, her friends had stopped visiting her. Plus she had taken a risk by living in the small room above her shop. Originally, she’d lived in a boardinghouse down the street as those in similar situations did, but she could no longer afford it. No one would bother her, she had solid locks on her doors and she carefully hid her money. No one even knew she lived here.

But either way, as far as the
aristocracy was concerned, she was a just a common laborer now.

Alone.

Chapter Three

Philip strolled into his breakfast room the next morning and stared out the window. He loved Hearthstone Manor, his main estate, at this time of year. The spring flowers blossomed in beds accented by grass that turned a beautiful shade of green. For some reason, Hearthstone Manor in the spring represented hope. He chided himself for being foolish and sentimental, but with the gardens and the lake, his land truly seemed the most glorious setting he had ever seen. Of course, the memories he had of the years when he was younger, fishing, racing horses, and having shooting contests with his brothers and his father, all encouraged him to reminisce. They were such powerful memories. He had hoped to have his own sons to share the same collections with someday, but life was not going to accommodate him.

He sighed and grabbed his plate
. Ambling to the sideboard, he filled his plate with coddled eggs, ham and toast, and nodded briefly at the servants. Eying the newspaper waiting for his perusal caused him to sigh again. Picking it up after he sat, he promised himself he would ignore the gossip page. He expected to find his name linked with Sara Downey’s, and he did not need to be reminded about how that woman inspired him to hurt someone. His mother flurried in, swishing her skirts as she traversed the breakfast room.

“Good morning, Philip
. Are you having a better day today?”

“Better than what, Mother?”

“Why, better than your usual days, of course. You should be having a better day today,” she replied.

“And why is that, Mother?”
He was not anxious to hear her answer. He set his paper down. He knew his mother would have her say eventually, so he might as well get it over with as quickly as possible.

“Well, I believe you should be happy after meeting that beaut
iful young lady yesterday, Sara Downey.” She took a seat as the servants bustled around her to see to her needs.

“And please tell me why meeting
Lady Downey should make me happy?” he ground out.

“Why, chemistry, of course! Anyone within fifty feet of the two of you could feel the chemistry between you
.” She smiled over the rim of her teacup.

“Chemistry!
Are you out of your mind? That was not chemistry, it was anger! I wanted to throttle her. As a matter of fact, I think the feeling was mutual.” His hands curled into fists on the tablecloth, but then he forced himself to pick up the paper again.

“Why, Philip, I do
disagree with you. We all witnessed the sparks flying between the two of you. They were as strong from her as they were from you.” She gave one vehement nod of her head to emphasize her point.

“Mother, I am
beginning to really worry about you. How could you mistake the emotions between the two of us as anything but sheer hatred?” He dropped the newspaper in front of him in frustration.

“Oh, but there is a fine line between love and hate.
Are you just learning that?” Her eyebrows rose and the corners of her mouth quirked.

“I think I know well enough what love is and what it
isn’t. I have my lovely ex-wife to thank for that instruction. I will never mistake feelings of love again, Mother. I told you, give up on me. I will never attach myself to another female as I did before.”

“Philip, that nasty woman you called your wife does not know how to love.
But Caroline did do a nice job of wrapping you around her finger. She was very skilled with her assets. But you were young and clearly in lust, not love. There is a difference.”

Philip spewed his tea halfway across the
table. “Mother! Could you speak a bit more appropriately? What if your daughter walked into the room and heard you?” The servants rushed over to clean up after him.

“Oh,
pah. And Emma is clearly not here. It is time someone spoke the truth to you to get you out of your snip. It was a long time ago, young man. You have had plenty of time to heal. Get over it and start living your life again.”

Philip stared at his mother
, speechless. Taking another sip of tea, he tried to calm down. Heal? Would he ever be able to heal from the humiliation of his wife leaving him for another man? Was it possible to heal from the cold rejection, the flippant manner in which his wife had chosen another over him, the Duke of Brentwood? Thanks to Caroline, half of England knew of his embarrassment. He could see the spiteful glances from his peers, even in the House of Lords. Why, even the gentry eyed him with pity.

Even worse, would his heart ever be able to heal? He would never admit this to anyone, but he had loved Caroline so
. Hadn’t he? Was it possible his mother was correct in her assessment? Had it been lust and not love?

“Oh, Philip, speaking of your sister, I would like to take her to the
new dressmaker this week, and I would like you to go with us. What day is good for you?” She donned her sweetest smile.

His mother startled him back to the present, and
this plan was one he needed to remedy quickly. “To the dressmaker? Since when do you need me to go shopping with you? It really is not a man’s activity, or have you forgotten? I have to meet with my steward this week. I am scheduled to visit many of my tenants as well.”

Philip
shook his head in exasperation. What had gotten into his mother to make her act like this? She was not normally this addled, and he hated arguing with her. After all, she was his mother and he loved her.

“Philip, your sister, Emma, is fourteen years old.
In case you have not noticed, she is blossoming into a beautiful young lady. And I do not like the leering glances she is now getting from the men in town. I think it would be beneficial if you would go with us. Your presence would remind those men who she is and that she is off limits. It is your job as head of the family. Your three brothers run like wildfire wherever they wish. While you may have a mode of decorum, I will not have their scandalous episodes affecting Emma’s reputation. If you accompany her on occasion, it will clearly make a statement to those in town. Must I remind you of your duty? Or are you too busy?” Her hands fisted on her hips.

“Of course not, Mother.
I will be glad to accompany you and Emma this week. Monday would be fine.” His mother could bend him to her will so easily.

Why had his life taken such
an unusual turn this week?

Chapter
Four

Sara straightened up her living area. It was small, but enough for her. She enjoyed decorating, even though it was a limited space. The curtains were her own design and she had upholstered a small couch to match. A table and chairs sat alongside her bed. It had been her idea to clean up the attic in this small building so she could live here. As her funds were limited, she didn’t need much, and living above stairs allowed her more time to craft her designs. She didn’t understand why society frowned so on matrons residing alone. In deference to society, she purposefully stepped out her front door every night, locked it and turned the corner before slipping inside her back door, attempting to create the illusion of going to the boardinghouse. Her father had raised her to be her own person and to make her own decisions so she had decided to go ahead with her plan. If she was successful, she would be able to move to a safer place soon enough.

She
shuffled down the stairs carefully since it was such a steep staircase. The base of the staircase opened into the back room of the shop where she kept bolts of beautiful fabrics. Purchasing only the best was an expensive investment, but her gowns were made from the highest quality she could afford. Skimping on fabric was not the way to run a business. As she passed through her back room, she ran her hand across the large flat table she used for cutting and developing her patterns. Every item in her shop had been purchased with love.

The next room was her favorite.
She stole a moment to stand on the platform that sat in the middle for her customers. Viewing herself in the looking glasses helped her position them just right to allow her clients to see the front and back of their gowns. A desk sat in the corner unobtrusively. The walls were lined with readymade gowns for those that needed something in a hurry, taking advantage of the wooden pieces nailed into the shape of a “T” crafted by her father to hang her best creations. She labored furiously to build her inventory of these, but she was only one person, and sewing one gown took so much time and effort, especially the beadwork. A screen sat in the corner for changing.

The front room was her display room.
A customer counter ran along the back of the room and a table and two chairs were on the side for husbands who awaited their wives. The front window was used as a display. She loved to change the whole look of the room, often through color schemes or certain materials. She hoped to have enough for a bridal display soon. She also had two glass cases for accessories items. There was always much for her to do.

Returning to her middle room, she straightened everything and dusted as she moved.
Her expectations were for a productive week. She was pleased with the publicity she had received with her bridal gown design Saturday. Her pulse sped at just the thought of new clients arriving at her shop this week, placing orders for the next ball. As she turned back to the front, she heard the tinkle of her bell. She stepped into the front room as a disheveled, dirty man closed the door and locked it.

“I am sorry, sir, but I am not open for business yet.
Please take your leave and return in an hour and I would be happy...” her words caught in her throat at the menacing look in the man’s eyes.

She stepped back and moved to turn
, but he grabbed her arm and twisted it viciously.

Snatching her tight to his body, he
sneered. “No, I will not be returning. We will finish our business now.”

Her stomach churned as she noticed the spit on his chin.
Wrinkling her nose at the foul odor of his breath, she brought her gaze up to his. Cruel and hateful eyes raked her body.

Attempting
to push away from him, she groaned as his powerful grip detained her. What choices did she have? How could she remove him, make him stop hurting her? What did he want? She hated how easy it was for a man to control a woman.

Hoping to reason with him, she stated,
“I am sorry, sir, but I do not know you. Please release me this instant.” She did her best to hide the fear that gripped her body. The man reeked of unwashed sweat and whiskey, his teeth were black stubs, and his breath rankled her senses.

He leaned in,
twisting her arm painfully. “My boss has a message for you. He needs the money by next week, or else.”

Sara
started. “Money? What money? I don’t owe anyone any money. Who are you? What are you talking about?” She twisted again, trying to break free of his grasp.

The man squeezed tighter.
“Maybe you don’t, but your husband did.”

Her
fear increased exponentially. “My husband is dead, or so I have been told. Besides, he left me. I have not seen him in six months, and I don’t ever want to see him again. Why would he owe you money?”

“Your husband like
d to gamble, and he owed my boss big before he died. I see a lot of money hanging on the wall here, and you have some pretty fancy clients. He wants his money. You have one week from today.” He smiled, giving her a full view of his rotting teeth.

H
e pushed her away, but only enough to allow him to grab her left wrist in one hand and her pinky finger with his other. He savagely thrust her finger backwards. She screamed from the pain before falling to the floor as he released her.

“
If I don’t get my money next week, I will break it.” The foul man leaned over her as he spoke. “The little finger first; then I will break another finger every time you are late with a payment. From there, I’ll go to your arms and proceed to your legs until you are unable to work anymore. I may break every bone in your body before I am done. Do you understand?”

Sara
whimpered, gasping in pain as she cradled her finger. Peering up at him, she nodded.

“And do not think of going to the authorities
, or I will have my way with you until you won’t be able to walk. I don’t care where you hide; I will find you. Am I making myself clear, Lady Downey?”

Sara nodded again, tears streaming down her face.
He unlocked the door before turning back to her. “You have one week.”

Sara stood
carefully and tried to slow her breathing. She moved her finger, making sure it wasn’t broken, saying a quick prayer of thanks when it bent freely. Who was that man? He had attacked her in broad daylight with no fear. She should have done something, anything. What could she have done? Her finger swelled as she stared at it. What was she going to do? If she sent for a physician, he would ask questions she couldn’t answer. Besides, she didn’t have the funds to pay a physician. Between her arm where he had twisted it and her finger, the pain was more than she could bear.

Think, Sara, think
. Her shop opened in one hour. How could she sew when she had trouble lifting her arm? She couldn’t close today. She needed the money. The man had never told her how much Duncan owed, but it must be a large amount. Her pain brought her mind back to the present issue. How could she work with the pain in her arm and her finger?

More importantly, how was she to resolve this situation? What could she do to make sure he never returned?
She shuddered at the thought of what he threatened if she asked for help. Panic claimed her mind and her body as the reality of the situation set in. Who could she go to? She had no one. There was absolutely no one that she was close to. She had started to build some lasting friendships when she had moved to London after her marriage, but after her husband had deserted her, she had been too embarrassed to talk to anyone.

Since then, everything had seemed hopeless until now. Her business had been building weekly;
she’d been so excited to get her life back. And now this? How could her world turn upside-down so quickly?

***

Philip held out his hand to help his sister down from the carriage.

“Oh, Philip, I am so excited that you are coming with us this morning
. I hope you will help me pick out some of my gowns. You know everything about the
ton.
You will know exactly what I should be wearing. Someday, I will catch a very handsome husband, and he will fall madly in love with me, don’t you think, Philip? I am going to be a wonderful wife and mother someday, right? Don’t you agree? In fact, you should help me choose the very best man, as he will be in our house, too. You will have to get along with him, correct?”

Emma’s cheeks flush
ed with excitement. When Philip glanced at his sister, he still saw the little girl who loved to wrap her hand inside his and sit on his lap. Where had the years gone? He still could not think of her in another man’s arms. She was only fourteen, twelve years younger than he was. She still babbled like a young girl. He normally couldn’t tolerate the drivel from all the empty headed females thrown at him by matrons of the
ton
, but he loved listening to his sister. Emma was such an innocent.

H
e had hoped to drop his mother and sister at the modiste and run, but his sister made it clear she expected him inside. Guilt overrode all else, since he realized he did not spend much time with Emma. When he had been married, Caroline had informed him she didn’t like spending time with his family. He was only just beginning to realize how much he may have missed in those two years. Starting today, he would make it up to his sister. He smiled as he pushed open the door to the shop.

A little bell tinkled as they
stepped inside. He glanced at the items in the glass case in front, thinking he should probably purchase a small bauble for Miranda. The little incident in front of the church had probably upset her, but she was so shallow, anything that cost money would make her happy. He heard a familiar voice and turned around slowly.

Lady
Sara Downey stood in front of them. Ah, now he understood his mother’s motivation. She normally had a reason for everything she did, and the reason for today’s visit smiled at his sister. He nodded to his mother, accepting she had out-maneuvered him this time.

Lady Downey curtsied
to him, and his mind stopped functioning. He noticed her sweet lips move but didn’t hear the words, his focus riveted on their lushness and her perfect white teeth. She had a beautiful smile, even though it was forced. What would he have to do to make that smile genuine?

Her hair was pulled back simply, but a few strands escaped and caressed her cheeks, highlighting how pink and flushed they were. Why? He assessed her again, head to toe. What a stunning specimen of a female. He licked his lips at the thought of tasting her. He gazed into her green eyes, could almost see the gold flecks in them, noting her gloriously long lashes. For some reason, she would not maintain any eye contact with him.

His mother gave him an innocent smile
. “Wait here just a minute for us, would you, Philip? We would like your opinion on some of Lady Downey’s colors and creations.”

Philip felt himself nod to his mother
, still unable to speak. He caught himself staring at Sara again. Her hair gave her a sophisticated look. Even though she was a member of the working class, there was an air of nobility about her. Sara Downey had class in her bones, the kind that Miranda coveted, but could not get. When she turned to exit the room, Philip caught a quick look at the roundness of her bottom. He was instantly hard.

Bloody hell!
No woman had been able to affect him so in months. He turned back to the window in the hopes that Lady Downey hadn’t notice his reaction. What was happening to him? He was always in complete control of his emotions and his desires. Miranda relieved his urges when necessary. Of course, their relationship was strictly physical, but he needed it to prevent himself from falling for another woman. He would not, under any circumstances, allow himself to lose his heart to another female. And controlling his lust was paramount to achieving his goal. What had he done wrong? He made a mental note to visit Miranda soon to slake his yearnings for this woman.

He had fallen so hard for Caroline he didn’t trust himself with beautiful women. The past had traumatized his heart, but it had done nothing to deter his lusty urges. Only recently had he started to believe the possibility that Caroline had manipulated him so well. How could he have been so blind?

He turned and glimpsed Sara from the other room as she worked.
Something was wrong, she was different today. What was it? Something about her personality had changed. Her self confidence was gone, and she seemed nervous. Her movements were slow and awkward; he noticed the tremor in her hands as she measured Emma.

Emma disappeared with Sara,
several gowns over her arm. In a few minutes, they returned and called to him. He heard his mother remind Emma to address him properly since they were in public.

“Come in,
Your Grace. Tell me what you think.” His sister stood on the platform in front of the mirror in a pale pink gown. “Isn’t it beautiful? I love this! It is the prettiest shade of pink. I wonder if I can find slippers to match. And I need a bonnet, too. What do you think?” Emma turned to him, wide eyed with joy.

“It is
beautiful on you, princess. We will find whatever you need to go with it,” he said softly.

His eyes
rose to his sister’s and then to Lady Downey. What was he missing? Visible pain radiated from Lady Downey’s eyes. Why? Did he remind her of her husband? What was wrong with her?