Page 8 of In Search of a Husband
She would remain at Charlotte’s grand townhome in Mayfair and read.
Or reply to the letter surely burning a hole into her reticule.
“Miss Bancroft, are you ready to go inside? I fear it will rain soon.”
Kate glanced away from the celestial blue silk draped dramatically in the shop window, cascading over a neat pile of traveling trunks, to Hannah. The mousy maidservant stood close, blinking her beady brown eyes at her, her pert mouth pinched as if she had grown weary of acting as Kate’s chaperone.
Perhaps it was fruitless as she was ruined, but for appearance’s sake, she had agreed to bring Hannah with her whenever she was out in London. Charlotte might pretend not to care about the gossip, but she had a soft heart and a quieter voice when it came to speaking up for herself.
And Kate would do nearly anything for her dear friend.
Right, steady on.
She lifted her chin and entered the modiste, a chill racing downher spine at the shrill chime of the bell on the door announcing her arrival.
She took a hesitant step inside, paused, then glanced back at Hannah who remained in the doorway. It was a simple errand for Charlotte, but it felt impossible for Kate. She didn’t like obstacles that felt impossible. Too much of life lately had felt that way.
But Scotland.
The shop was busy, and everywhere Kate looked, her eyes fell on one beautiful thing or another. She hadn’t had a new dress for over a year after her parents disowned her. And since then, she had resided with Charlotte the Duchess of Dandridge, in London or her country home in Cumbria, and acted as her companion. The blue dress she wore today had been altered from Charlotte’s shorter, curvier profile to try to match Kate’s long, lean body.
She was grateful nevertheless, but it didn’t fit well even with the seams taken in and her hem dropped. Just another reason to feel self-conscious.
Kate waited patiently in line to speak with a shopkeeper behind the counter, keeping her eyes forward even as she felt the weight of others burning into her body. The crushing expectation of those stares made her stomach sour. After a few minutes, she was handed the packages that Charlotte needed, and she was about to leave the shop before she spotted the most beautiful piece of lace she had ever seen.
Kate clutched the packages in her arms and shuffled over to the display case to admire the lovely piece of lace. But she felt the hot raking stares over her body and, in a moment of weakness, glanced up to the back corner of the room.
To where her mother stood, stock-still and with a searing gray stare.
It had been nearly a year since they had last spoken. Her chest ached at the disgust etched over the fine, nimble features of her mother’s face—a thin long nose over even thinner lips, sharp chin and cheeks, and auburn hair pulled back tight beneath a frilly bonnet.
Once delicate, her mother had grown harsher with the years, andthese last months that Kate had missed, made her mother almost unrecognizable.
Her mother, who had notable control over her nerves, had finally lost them after Kate’s scandal. She yelled. Kate had never heard her mother yell before in her life.
She had made one mistake.
It cost her everything, including this older woman in the back of the room who met her gaze for one moment, then dropped it quickly as if Kate’s acknowledgement had scorched her.
Kate swallowed the shame stuck in her throat. They would skip the bakery. She felt as if she would be sick, and still she pressed on, leaving the lace in the display case alone to make what felt like an impossibly long journey across the room toward her mother.
“Miss Bancroft,” Hannah whispered. Kate felt the maidservant’s hand tug at the back of her spencer.
Kate pulled away, determined, however foolishly. Today she would speak with her mother. Today she would make amends. Or in the very least, begin such a process.
As if she were adrift at sea, she crossed the beautiful dark stained-wood floors of the modiste toward her mother. Closer. Closer still. Even as the rest of the shop grew quiet, she felt more eyes on them both.
Even as her mother turned her back on Kate.
She froze, swallowing back a scream. Or perhaps she was going to cry. It was hard to tell at that moment, but she was determined not to flee. Disappointment swelled within her chest. She hugged the packages tighter, then smiled at a few of the other ladies who watched.
“Come along, Hannah,” she said, glancing again at the lace in the display case. Perhaps another day she would have a reason to look at such lovely things. For right now, Kate was truly alone in the world.
And Scotland wasn’t sounding like such a terrible option.
Two hours later,Kate reclined back into the seat behind Lily’s desk at the school and plopped another bite of lemon cake into her mouth.
Delicious.
