“There’s no need. Mr Gibbs will guard my premises.” She swallowed past a lump in her throat. This was harder than expected. “Perhaps we might dine together at the Pheasant once we’ve visited Emily.”
He smiled. “I’d like that.”
Pleasing Theo Chance was like waking to a beautiful day. It left every part of her being infused in a warm glow.
Theo asked his coachman to park on Water Lane so they might access the premises via the yard. Mr Franklin and the other shopkeepers doubtless had a myriad of questions, but she hadn’t the strength to deal with their interference today.
There wasn’t a shard of glass in the yard, not one weed growing between the cracks in the paving. The back door did not swing ominously back and forth in the wind. It was new and painted dark green.
Theo removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. “Some cultures believe green is lucky.”
She smiled though she felt like crying. How had he fixed things so quickly? “I always thought green was the colour of envy.”
“Perhaps that’s true. Every modiste in London wishes they had your talent.” He looked at her and winked. “When a man gives you a compliment, you’re allowed to say thank you.”
She drank in his handsome countenance. “Thank you.” She would be the envy of every woman in London because she had kissed him.
They were walking past the fitting rooms when Mr Gibbs yanked back the curtain at the end of the corridor and growled like a bear. “Who goes there?” He met Theo’s gaze and glanced heavenward. “Only thieves and beggars sneak in through the back door. You should have said you were coming. I might have shot first and asked questions later.”
“You’re not holding a pistol,” Theo countered.
Mr Gibbs whipped a pistol out of his greatcoat pocket. “I could put a lead ball in your shoulder before you take your next breath.”
Although Theo laughed, Eleanor took umbrage. “How insensitive, Mr Gibbs. You might recall Mr Chance was shot in the shoulder outside my premises.”
“Aye, and like a ninny, he lay in bed moaning for days.”
“Have you ever taken a bullet, sir?” The man might be built like a marble effigy of Goliath but was he experienced enough to comment?
“Twice, miss. My scars make Aaron Chance’s look like cat scratches. Now, have you locked the back door?”
“I’m not an imbecile.” Theo ushered the fellow into the shop. “Do you have any information to share? Has anyone else tried to gain entrance since we last spoke?”
“A few nosy shopkeepers came knocking, wanting to know if the peelers had caught the intruder. Seems they think those sailors on the merchant ships are out to cause trouble.”
Eleanor entered the shop, her breath catching in her throat. What was once a scene of chaos and destruction now gleamed with meticulous order. The polished oak floor sparkled. Pretty combs and kidskin gloves filled the fixed drawers and cabinets. Large vases of silk flowers stood on two plinths near the doorway. There was a new gilt mirror and plush velvet chairs.
It was like stepping into a dream, a heavenly dream.
Her throat tightened. She looked at Theo, who was busy quizzing Mr Gibbs and felt the pierce of Cupid’s arrow. He had done this. He had not boasted or sought praise or tried to claim a reward.
She moved past them into the hall and climbed the stairs, desperate to see what he’d done with the other rooms. She had to grip the storeroom door before her knees buckled in shock. Bolts of colourful fabrics filled the shelves. Silk and satins. Linen and lace. There were boxes of buttons, rolls of ribbon. A new mannequin and expensive walnut drawers.
Tears filled her eyes.
She was done for.
There was no coming back from this. Love had taken command of her heart and soul. Theo owned her now. No other man could ever compare.
But what of her bedchamber?
Her whole body shook when she reached the upper floor.
The door creaked as she pushed it open. A peek inside brought tears of gratitude to her eyes. The room was immaculate, her clothes removed to the armoire, her bed made without a crease in the sheets. Her mother’s blanket was folded neatly on the chair. He’d bought her a new diary and pencil and left them on the nightstand, next to a single pink rose in a bud vase.
It wasn’t the endless expense that left her sobbing like a babe. This act of kindness was beyond anything she had ever encountered.
“Is everything all right?” Theo entered the room, his masculine presence commanding the space. “You’re crying. Have I overstepped the mark? I know how you value your independence. I know you’re quite capable of dealing with this on your own, but I had to put things right, Eleanor.”
She dashed tears from her cheeks but more fell. “You didn’t steal my diary,” she said, gesturing to the nightstand. “I’ve never had a flower by my bed. You’ve done more than tidy the shop, Theo.”
There were too many thoughtful gestures to mention.
He closed the gap between them, his large hands resting on her shoulders. “Forgive me. I’m a bold brigadier and insisted the jobs were done with military precision.” His gaze softened. “And I thought you might like to have a flower by your bed. There’s beauty in this world. We’d both do well to remember that.”
The rose paled next to him.
He was so beautiful he stole her breath.
Another sob escaped her, but he cupped her cheeks and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “You’ll be the most famous modiste in London. I swear they’ll be queueing all the way to St Paul’s just to wear your exclusive designs.”
The thought brought no surge of joy or pang of happiness. “Being a famous modiste was never my dream.”
“What is your dream?” he whispered.
She looked at his mouth. He was a dream come true. A friend she could trust. A valued confidant. Someone to love. “I have never given it much thought.”
“Perhaps you should.”
