Page 43 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

“And you are showing her the best part of the fair? She is special, no?”

Miss Cooper went rigid.

Leonore’s full laugh filled the room. “We will not waste time. You are fortunate no one else is here.” She gestured over a table strewn with fabric samples. Cotton prints. Indian chintz.

Miss Cooper stepped forward, entranced, and asked if she could touch them.

“Absolument,” said Leonore.

Instead of examining the contraband, Peter watched Miss Cooper’s reverent treatment of the fabric. White cotton draped between her hands, printed in a stylized floral design of navy on sapphire. Her fingers brushed the pattern, lips parting. She found green toile and multi-colored roses trailing over cream cotton. He noticed she touched the fabrics that best suited her complexion. She was thinking of dressing herself, not future customers. “Exquisite,” she whispered.

Peter’s breath caught at the word. He stepped closer, stopping before he joined her at the bold scarlet cloth, her fingers climbing vines that blossomed with creamy peach and blue flowers. She moved on but eventually returned to the Turkey red sample, her eyes trailing over its design.

“That print was created for you, I think,” Leonore said.

It was true. He longed to purchase and fit it over her in a manner reflecting her whole character—not simply the determined, capable apprentice, but also the passionate, talented dressmaker and the lively, delightful friend.

“I am not here to buy,” Miss Cooper said. “Perhaps another day soon.” She cast him a sharp look, and he knew she thought him foolish for refusing to pursue a career in dyeing and printing fabric.

Leonore winked at him. “She is your rival? I have heard about the infamous lady apprentice.” She turned to Miss Cooper. “Good for you.”

“Do you have anything for me?” He scarcely dared hope. Though he knew Leonore as a woman of great resources, after two years, he had nearly given up.

Leonore grinned, opened a trunk, and withdrew a package. “This is priceless, but of course I will sell it to you. I’ve included samples inside showing the phases.”

“I don’t believe it.” He took the package reverently. “It’s smaller than I expected.”

“Perhaps what you seek is simpler than you believe.”

He doubted that. She nodded permission, and he uncovered a parcel of notes, some fabric samples, and an odd-looking pen. He held it up.

“The instructions will tell you all,” she said.

Hopeful but not thoroughly convinced, he paid the steep price she named.

As they descended the stairs, Miss Cooper asked after the purpose of the package’s contents.

“Very likely she bamboozled me and it will amount to nothing at all.” He didn’t want Miss Cooper to know of his quest to create printed cotton, knowing how preposterous it was to think that he, not a dyer by trade, might solve the mystery, especially when he could never benefit from the discovery.

“What will you do with those fabric scraps?” Miss Cooper asked.

“Admire them.”

She gave him a dubious look.

“I simply like chintz. I have a lazy habit of tracing their patterns or inventing my own.”

“Why do you call that lazy? With your knowledge of Turkey red, you could create your own chintz.”

“You sound like Lucius.”

As if conjured by his name, the man appeared with an elaborate bow for Miss Cooper, whose hand he kissed. Miss Cooper seemed not to know where to look as pink flushed her cheeks.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Ivy. How do you do?”

“Now that you are in front of me, I am splendid. I smell meat pies.” Lucius took her arm, leading her toward the food tent.

Peter followed behind them with a curious twist beneath his rib. He had never seen anyone elicit a blush from Miss Cooper.