Page 11 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

Meg stood beside him, warming when he reached for her hand. She asked about school, his friends, what he learned, what he ate. In every story, Lord Halverton somehow made an appearance. She must save enough for his education before the Halvertons broke his precious, trusting heart.

Was it more abhorrent to sit vis-à-vis Mr. Sloan’s dimples, or side by side, his thigh pressed against hers? Situated across from him in the carriage conveying them to Mrs. Gainsworth, Meg contended with the dimples and wondered if she’d chosen ill. Each time their eyes met, he flashed cheerfulness as though merriment ran in his veins, though everyone knew of his father’s illness.

He attempted conversation, but Meg’s mind was full of Samuel’s infatuation with his older half-brother. Grace planned to deliver more than a dozen shirts that day. More pennies saved, little steps toward their future.

“Do you enjoy Stroud, Miss Cooper?”

“I suppose it is as good as any place.”

His eyes narrowed over her, but she needn’t explain herself to him. Though a show of gratitude would not go amiss.

“Thank you, Mr. Sloan, for consenting to instruct me.”

He looked away and rubbed his chin.

“That is why I am here, to help with Mrs. Gainsworth’s gown?” Meg asked, wrapping a blanket tighter against January’s chill.

Mr. Sloan smiled as if she’d said something amusing.

“That was not a joke,” she said.

He stopped grinning, but his eyes sparkled. “You trouble yourself too much, Miss Cooper.”

If she didn’t trouble herself, no one else would. “I believed you would banish me to finishing work for the duration of my time with you. But you’ve acknowledged I am ready to learn.”

“Yes, of course.” But his tone was distracted, his gaze shifting to the window.

The carriage came to a stop before four medieval watch towers connected by a palatial, three-storied edifice. A long-chinned young butler, drowning in oversized livery, escorted them into an airy foyer tiled in black and white marble.

Meg arched her neck to take in the painted ceiling.

“The castle was constructed in the Renaissance, connecting the medieval towers,” the butler said. “Mr. Gainsworth purchased it and refurbished the house and grounds⁠—”

A tall, sweet-faced lady swept down the stairs. “Do not bore them with trivial facts. How do you do, Peter? Thank you for taking this commission. With so little time, I could not send to London, but if you do well,” she held Meg’s gaze, “I may not depend on London.” She returned her attention to Mr. Sloan. “Will you introduce me?”

“My apprentice, Miss Cooper.” He turned to Meg. “This is Mrs. Gainsworth.”

Meg curtsied. “How do you do?”

“A pretty darling. That will create difficulties for you, my dear. The only thing worse than a competent woman is an attractive one.” She giggled without apparent malice. Where Meg was slight and dark in complexion, Mrs. Gainsworth stood tall with classically pale skin, hair, and eyes.

Mr. Sloan cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

“Of course. Peter, the servants will meet you one at a time in the parlor. This way with me, Miss Cooper. I have the most fabulous length of cloth.” She took Meg’s wrist and moved toward the stairs.

Panicked and unprepared for such a turn, she threw a look over her shoulder.

“Jane,” Peter said, “my apprentice requires supervision.”

An understatement. If Meg knew anything about dressmaking it came from her own stubborn attempts to discern the mysteries of the art.

Mrs. Gainsworth dropped Meg’s arm and turned to Mr. Sloan. “I hold nothing against you, dear Peter, but after working with London’s female mantua makers, I vowed never to have another man in my dressing chamber. I presume you’ve taught her to measure and pin?”

Meg would not allow Mr. Sloan to rob her of this opportunity, however unqualified she was. “Mr. Sloan has instructed me well. I shall be pleased to attend you.”

The lady nodded and continued her way up the stairs into a large dressing chamber. On a bench lay carefully folded silk in sunset pink with white stripes running its length. Meg folded her hands to prevent herself from touching it.

“Of course, I will need roses embroidered along each white stripe. Have you ever seen anything more divine?” Mrs. Gainsworth asked.