Page 41 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

“Precisely. Except, look.” He pulled the ruby-colored cotton square from his pocket. He’d turned the edges and embroidered his initials to make a handkerchief.

She took it and turned it. “This could be imported.”

“But it wasn’t. My grandfather spent so much time experimenting that the guild grew resentful, accused him of wasting time. He built that dyehouse when he came to live with my parents. By the time he mastered Turkey red, his health dwindled.”

“A tragedy.” She closed her eyes as if pained. “His most valuable heirloom buried with him.”

Any break from her customary stoicism intrigued him. He watched her for a moment, the high cheekbones, aristocratic nose, confident chin.

She was incorrect, though. His grandfather’s gift was not a color. “The most precious thing he gave me was not that secret.” Peter pondered the hours spent by his grandfather’s side, a man never too busy or messy for his grandson. Perhaps his grandfather’s easy manner had encouraged Peter’s own amiable nature, his assurance that there would always be enough time to finish a task.

“Well?” she asked.

“His greatest gift was the love and time he gave me.”

She deflated and sat back in her seat.

He laughed.

“I am not amusing, yet you continue to laugh at me.”

“Someone must.”

“What does that mean?”

“You are prodigiously grave.”

“I am earnest, that is all. But you find a joke in everything.”

He lifted a shoulder. The desire to confide in the woman beside him baffled him. Perhaps it was rooted in the selfish wish to gain her confidence.

“Regardless, you mustn’t fret so about my grandfather’s legacy. I was his student. His secret was not buried with him.”

She twisted toward him. “You know the recipe. Why are you tailoring?”

He laughed. “I am a tailor.”

“I don’t understand. You squander your inheritance.”

“My grandfather never meant me to use the knowledge, not for gain.”

She stared, disbelieving. “Grandfather and grandson equally foolish. If someone left me such a gift…” She looked out the window.

“It’s more complicated than that. Remember, the guild resented him for neglecting his work in pursuit of chemistry; the guild essentially abandoned him to my parents’ care. My grandfather could not forgive them and insisted the guild never profit from his work. I promised I would safeguard it.”

“Sometimes stepping out of our elders’ footsteps is precisely what we should do.”

He glanced at her. That statement said more about her than anything she’d previously expressed. What suffering was she escaping? He wanted to take her hand and infuse her with all the warmth of his happy childhood. “I am sorry,” he said, a pitiful substitute for the comfort he wished to give.

“You have nothing for which to apologize.” She pulled her mantle tighter. “Except not using the gift fate dropped in your lap.”

He wished to draw her out, so he began talking, blathering, covering everything from the differences between French and English fashion to his mother’s recipe that made gin taste like cordial and finally Lucius’s being strapped to Widow Tolbert for the duration of valentine season.

“Why not ignore the assignment?” she asked.

“He is committed to the tradition.”

“And did you throw your name into the lot?”