Page 92 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

Peter gestured for Margaret to follow and stepped behind a row of booths. “You can’t stop, can you?”

“Stop? What are you saying?”

“Wearing my gift, luring customers with it. And you stole my pattern.”

“Peter, I⁠—”

“Here I was contemplating a renewal of our friendship, thinking perhaps I should give you a chance, and I find more betrayal.”

“I did this for you. To show everyone your talent. I thought perhaps their praise would give you the courage to become the dyer you long to be.”

“Hah. You would like that. Capture the rest of my clients.” He shook his head. “I suppose you can’t help who you are.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, her features settling into stillness. The pained look on her face nearly broke him. She pivoted and marched away, and with each retreating step, emptiness encroached upon him. He had gone too far, spoken too soon. She was right, of course—the plans he and Mr. Hobbins had been concocting over the last few weeks brought exuberance to his life when nearly all else brought distress. But seeing her in that dress reminded him of all he had lost in potential courtship, a wound he had not expected to resurface so suddenly.

Throughout the remainder of the day, he scanned the crowd for Margaret but did not find her. The fiddle played flat and dull. The dance held no satisfaction. He scarcely understood words spoken to him. Peter departed before the feast began.

His steps echoed in vacant High Street. He paused in front of Sloan Tailoring, catching voices from The Golden Thimble.

“This is a dress shop.” Margaret’s voice, clear and hard. “You have no jurisdiction over me.”

“There is a suit of clothes in your window display, and I have enough evidence that you’ve violated your indenture. I will inform the magistrate.”

“Lord Halverton, my guardian, is the magistrate.”

“Then I will take the matter to the assizes.”

Peter’s breath caught. The guild wanted to shut down her shop. His hands curled into fists. Was this how Charlotte had intended to “take care of this”?

He could not make out Margaret’s words, but her voice came low and placatory.

“Absolutely not,” the man said. “This is an affront to the institutions that order and stabilize our country and have done so for generations.”

Peter’s chest tightened. Margaret had wronged him, but she did not deserve to be uprooted. His rage quickened. She’d toiled night and day to see her shop materialize, and the guild would not take it from her.

Margaret’s shop door stood open. Peter stepped under the doorframe, recognizing the guild master’s outrageous wig. Margaret’s pale face blanched when she caught sight of him, then her attention flicked to Master Dickson.

She stepped closer to the guild master. “Consider well before you act. Lord Halverton will not take your interference lightly.”

The white queue of the master’s wig lengthened down his back as he raised his head. “I will see your doors close by the end of the week.” He pivoted and nearly ran into Peter.

“Master Dickson.” Peter bowed.

“Your troubles will end here, my boy.” He shoved his hat further on his head and made to leave.

“If you please, I wish to speak with you.” Peter gestured for Master Dickson to follow him into his empty shop. Almost, he called for his father, who had been well acquainted with the guild master.

Master Dickson rested his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Had I known what this unnatural apprenticeship would become, I would never have allowed it. That woman has desecrated the foundations of our holy order; may Saint Anne ever be with us. I don’t care who her guardian is.”

“Ironic that the patron saint of tailors is female.”

Master Dickson grumbled.

Peter looked at his hands, stained red and blue. What did he hope to accomplish? Could he save Margaret? “It may be best to leave her be. She is a dressmaker, not a tailor.”

“She is a dressmaker trained in a tailor’s shop with a journeyman working under her. It is an outrage. I voiced my opinion against allowing her to train with you, but the vote went against me. Not to mention her criminal behavior of taking clients before her indenture concluded.”

Peter rubbed his chin. If she were forced from The Golden Thimble, she must move elsewhere and would be far from her beloved Samuel. Far from Peter. The thought startled him. What did he care if she left? But he did. No matter that she had betrayed him, he respected her and wished her well. Wished her near.