Page 66 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

“That is a lovely sentiment.” He was tender and sincere the same way he was handsome, without effort or thought. Meg had never known anyone like him. It was too easy to fall into pleasant conversation, to forget they were not allies. Her throat soured.

Meg retreated to Mr. Sloan’s office to review receipts and order his ledger. A pile of untouched letters lay neatly stacked on his desk. She checked the door was shut, then thumbed through them, heart pounding. A familiar script. The guild seal. She found the letter unopened, confirming Mr. Sloan remained unaware.

The door snicked open. Meg spun around, hiding the letter behind her back.

Giles entered and closed the door. “Excuse me, Miss Cooper, but I hoped to speak with you before the others arrive.” He scratched the back of his head. “I finish my apprenticeship soon, but some gaps in my knowledge remain. I don’t know how to keep accounts and manage orders. Would you agree to show me?” He cleared his throat. “Mr. Sloan is capable, the best. But you are the better manager.”

That simple sentence, putting her and Mr. Sloan together, infused Meg with a gentle bloom. They complimented each other, that was certain. Behind her back, the letter became saturated with the same sourness that climbed into her belly. The warmth drained away.

“It is not something you can learn before your training ends. What are your plans after you finish?”

“I will serve as a journeyman to Mr. Sloan until I feel ready to take my own work.”

She recognized the opportunity. “I could offer you a position with me, teach you all that you require once I open my shop across the street.” A tailor in a dress shop would lend credence to her enterprise. “You could watch me build a clientele, start a shop from the ground up, which I believe is your ambition.”

A look of distaste crossed his face. “I will consider it.”

As soon as the door closed, she stuffed the correspondence into her pocket and dashed across the street. With the correspondence burning against her thigh, she entered her bedroom. After the debacle with Grace, Meg had had a large drawer in her bureau outfitted with a key, a safer location out of sight from anyone living in her house or visiting her shop. She unlocked it and tucked both guild letters beside the money Miss Matilde had collected over the past week.

She twisted the key in the lock, the decided click effectively barring her from Mr. Sloan’s friendship. His trust.

And though she knew it, she accepted that pain as the lesser of two evils. An end to her apprenticeship meant an end to all she’d strived for. She must hide the letter or lose Samuel.

20

Miss Cooper’s arm swept Peter’s shoulder as she took an armful of silk and moved to the opposite end of the settee. Peter glanced at her, but she didn’t seem to feel the same rush of heat the touch sent through him. He scrubbed his forehead with the back of his hand before threading a needle and plunging it into Lady Halverton’s gown. She had loved the last gown Miss Cooper and he had delivered in April so much that she had asked for two more by the end of May.

“At least we can finish the gown now that we’re staying,” Miss Cooper said.

Confusion over carriages, tired horses, and a mid-May deluge had landed them without return transportation to Stroud. Miss Cooper had come at the problem from every angle—farm horse, Lady Halverton’s donkey carriage, a cart, a neighbor with a spare. Peter watched the interaction between Lord Halverton and Miss Cooper with bemused delight, Lord Halverton answering each query with patient logic until she was satisfied that staying the night remained the single alternative.

Resigned to their fate, they worked on Lady Halverton’s gown. Miss Cooper was quieter than usual, distant in a way different from her customary brisk diligence. Something seemed amiss, and Peter imagined for a moment she may suspect him as her valentine. They continued corresponding weekly. But he remembered she had lost a great deal of money and a dear friend. Her mood likely had nothing to do with him.

“You have done a remarkable job with this gown,” he said.

“A certain tailor I know taught me how to take measure without using a strip of fabric.” Her teasing tone bordered on coy. Almost a flirtation.

“The cut suits Lady Halverton’s temperament and will accentuate her affability.”

“You are too kind.” Miss Cooper’s strained expression reappeared.

“I can manage for a bit on my own, you know. Why don’t you visit Samuel?” Peter asked. The boy had sat with them for a time but excused himself to study, saying he did not wish to fall behind after his long illness.

“He is studying, as is right.” She did not lift her head.

The quiet between them amplified the sound of rain gushing from the drain outside the window. With Lady Halverton’s blue gown connecting them, Peter couldn’t concentrate. He drew the thread from his needle and pulled out three stitches that meandered like a drunken sailor. Miss Cooper’s steady hand moved against the side of the skirt. She slid over to sew the upper portion, a fraction closer to him.

He wanted to speak with her, to dip into the intimacy held in their letters. He had received her latest note the day before, and he could hardly stop thinking about her words, the hints she kept begging for. A coppery tendril fell over her brow. He half-reached to sweep it from her eye, but his hand paused midair, drawing her attention. She looked a question at him, then returned to her work. He squeezed his eyes shut. He could not be alone with her without revealing himself.

“My eyes need rest.” He wove his needle into the fabric and moved toward the window.

“We’ve just begun,” she said.

“It’s a muddy-boots day.” Fast-falling rain blurred the garden.

“Because of the rain?” The smile in her voice ignited a spark within him.

“My mother used to say that, referring to times when work feels impossible. Though I must admit those days often coincide with rainy weather.”