A Lady of Hidden Intent (9 page)

She has never cared for the summer kitchen to be attached to the house even in part. It defeats the purpose of keeping the heat from the living quarters. Not that we are here for long in summer.

I cannot abide summer in Philadelphia. Although I am told this new country acreage may well prove cooler and less difficult.”

“Perhaps that will be true,” Carter said, adding yet another note on the paper. “Very well, unless you can think of anything else, I believe I have all the details needed.”

“And you can arrange for the workmen? I would, of course, wish to interview them and discuss their prices.”

“Of course.” Carter straightened and followed Mr. Montgomery, who was already moving toward the door. “I will arrange a meeting. Would you prefer that we come to your home, or should I arrange to hold it here?”

“My house will be acceptable. See if you cannot arrange something prior to the twentieth, however.”

“Today is the seventeenth. I see no reason why I cannot get at least a few of the men together in short order. Why don’t we say the nineteenth at your house, two o’clock?”

“Very good. I shall look forward to it.”

Carter showed Mr. Montgomery to the foyer and waited until the butler arrived with the man’s hat, gloves, and coat. Once Montgomery was on his way, Carter headed back to his office. Winifred waited for him, small and delicate against the dark wood of the large desk and bookcases. In fact, the darker greens and browns Carter had chosen for the office appeared only to make Winifred seem even smaller.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt. Are you terribly busy?” she asked.

Carter came to her and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I always have time for you. Sit and tell me why you’ve come.”

“I need to ask a favor,” she said, taking a seat as instructed. “I need to go to the dressmaker’s and pick materials for my gown.

Mama has already chosen hers, but Miss Shay has some additional fabrics coming in that I wish to see. Surprisingly enough, Mama agreed to let me choose for myself.”

“That is amazing,” Carter said with a grin. “She must be overly concerned with planning for the ball itself.”

Winifred smiled and her dark eyes seemed to twinkle. “I thought perhaps that might be the case. Either way, I didn’t wish to forgo the opportunity.”

Carter picked up the plans for the Montgomery house and rolled them. “I find myself quite free this afternoon and would be happy to escort you to Mrs. Clarkson’s. I shall have Joseph bring the carriage around. How soon would you like to go?”

“I can be ready immediately. I have only to go retrieve my things,” Winifred said, getting to her feet. “I shan’t be but a moment.”

Carter secured the plans in a tall bookcase with glass-paneled doors. He liked his office in order, but even more so, he liked having his affairs away from the prying eyes of his father and brother. More than once he’d found his brother, Robin, snooping about. Locking the doors to the case, Carter couldn’t help but be reminded that this was yet another reason he should consider moving to a house of his own. Perhaps with another job or two—maybe a large government project—he would feel secure enough to do just that. Of course, there was always the possibility of partnering with someone. His old mentor, Hollis Fulbright, came to mind. The flamboyant man had shown great appreciation and affection for Carter during the days he apprenticed with him. Carter could easily see himself working with someone like Hollis Fulbright.

Carter and the carriage were ready and waiting when Winifred reappeared. She had positioned a green bonnet on her head and allowed Wilson, the butler, to help her into a trim little black coat. She seemed so happy. Carter wished he could find a good husband for her. If his father pushed forward with his own plans, Winifred would no doubt be married off to a wealthy man twice her age, never to know true love.

Once they were in the carriage, Carter couldn’t help but comment on Winifred’s spirits. “You seem quite content today. I don’t believe I’ve seen you smile this much in ages.”

“I am happy. I truly like visiting with Miss Shay. She cares about what I have to say and offers good suggestions when I ask for advice.”

“And what kind of advice do you seek?” Carter asked in a teasing voice.

Winifred smoothed out the material of her green skirts and folded her black-gloved hands in her lap. “I ask her about clothing mostly. She knows a great deal about fashion. I like hearing about England, too. While we waited for Mama the other day, Catherine told me about London. I think I would very much like to see it. I think you would enjoy talking with her too. She is very well-read on other topics and seems quite accomplished.”

“Indeed? That is rather an oddity for a seamstress, is it not?”

Winifred shrugged. “She does not have much free time. She told me they work some fifteen to twenty hours a day during the social seasons. They even work on Saturday.” She shook her head. “I cannot imagine having to work for my keep.”

“Nor shall you ever have to worry about it,” Carter replied.

“Not so long as I have breath.”

“I wish it could be so for every young woman. It seems quite unfair that some women may merely run a house and direct servants, while others must slave for their very existence.”

Carter was rather surprised by his sister’s comments. He had never heard her talk quite like this. “There are a great many unfair situations in this world,” he admitted. “I suppose we must change what we can and help those less fortunate to endure as best they are able.”

“I suppose you are right,” Winifred said, looking to the world outside the carriage. “Do you have plans for Sunday? There is a lecture being given by the antislavery people.”

“I already have arrangements,” Carter answered. “Lee and I plan to go riding.”

“Oh, that sounds quite delightful.”

There was something in her voice that drew Carter’s attention. She sounded so wistful that he thought perhaps Winifred had been too long neglected. “You would be welcome to join us. I know that Lee would not care.”

“Mr. Arlington is a very . . . good . . . friend,” Winifred said, seeming to pick her words carefully.

Carter checked his watch. “He is indeed. I cannot imagine a better friend in all the world.”

“I wish I had a friend like that. Unfortunately, it is unseemly for a woman to share a man’s company to any degree of intimacy— unless, of course, they are courting or related. And the young ladies I grew up with are far more concerned with their social standing and the next party or gown. I find myself quite weary of their company, yet I always end up going back to their affairs simply out of desperation to have someone with whom to talk.”

“I am sorry for that.” Carter looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “I did not realize how miserable you’d become.”

Winifred reached out a gloved hand and patted his arm. “Do not fret over it. Mother says it’s my own doing. My shyness makes people uncomfortable. However, I would never have become so shy had my peers been less opinionated and harsh. I have no desire to spend my evenings gossiping about a friend who had, until that moment, been perfectly admired. Women, Carter dear, can be so very nonsensical.”

Carter laughed out loud at this. “You are wise beyond your years, little sister. So may I plan on your accompanying us Sunday after church?”

“Where will you ride? I am certain I cannot keep a saddle for as long as you and Mr. Arlington, but I would like to come.” There was an excitement in her voice that Carter had not anticipated.

“Then we will plan on it. We’ll set out after dinner, so long as the weather is good, and keep to the park.”

The carriage slowed and then drew to a stop. Carter glanced out to see the sign announcing Mrs. Clarkson’s.

“It would appear we have arrived.”

Carter helped Winifred from the carriage and followed her to the sewing house. He found himself feeling rather excited to once again meet the beautiful Miss Shay. He’d thought more about her in the last week than he’d thought of any other woman.

Hearing Winifred talk so highly of Catherine only intrigued him more.

A very young redheaded girl greeted them as she opened the door. “G’day to ya both.” She curtsied and stepped aside.

“We’re here to see Miss Shay,” Winifred announced. “I am Miss Danby.”

“I’ll be lettin’ Miss Shay know yar here.” She showed them to the same sitting room Carter had occupied on his first occasion to Mrs. Clarkson’s. He could only hope that the wanton Felicia would be occupied elsewhere.

“Would ya be wantin’ some refreshments?”

“No. I believe our stay will be quite short,” Winifred replied, looking to Carter to make certain her response was acceptable.

“I am fine,” he assured.

The girl curtsied again and went about her duties. Carter thought of the fluid and graceful movements he’d noted of Catherine Shay compared to this awkward little girl, then considered his sister’s comments about Miss Shay’s intelligence. She clearly wasn’t like the others in the house. There was an air of refinement to her manners and speech. Of course, she was English, and that alone could account for a great deal. She might well have been part of a noble family. Many had fallen on bad times, and it wasn’t, as he understood, that unusual for them to come to America to seek to better their situations. Perhaps that was the mystery behind the beautiful Catherine Shay.

Carter smiled to himself.
I have a great imagination
.

“What are you smiling about?”

He met his sister’s gaze and his grin only broadened. “I was just thinking that with very little trouble I easily allow my imagination to run wild. I suppose it bodes well to have a creative nature, since my passion is architecture. However, I sometimes find my thoughts getting the best of me.”

“And in what way do they get the best of you, brother?”

Carter shrugged. “In ways that might well serve to get me into more trouble than expected.” He grinned. “But never fear.

I have a tight rein on my thoughts. They shall not be my ruin today.”

The door opened suddenly, and there she was. Carter forgot what he was saying and simply stared at the vision before him. Hang his imagination; this woman was far more intriguing in the flesh.

“I have some things here that I believe . . .” Catherine began, but her words faded as she found herself face-to-face with Carter.

He smiled broadly and gave a bow. “Good afternoon, Miss

Shay.”

“Sir.” The reply slowly spilled from her reluctant lips.

Catherine found she couldn’t look away. He was so very handsome. His face had a rather rugged look, perhaps more so than she’d noticed five years ago. Of course, if she had changed, he certainly could as well. She thought he looked wiser and, ultimately, more at ease with himself. How strange that he’d never married. Of course, a man of means had no need to rush into an arrangement that he might find drained his riches rather than added to them.

“So, my sister tells me you are quite accomplished at designing ball gowns.”

“I told him I’d never seen anyone quite like you. Most seamstresses create gowns based solely on patterns that have already been established—or at least gowns that are available to copy,”

Winifred said with such sincerity that Catherine momentarily forgot her fears.

“You are very kind to say so. I enjoy what I do.”

“I believe that helps one to do an exceptional job,” Carter offered.

“My brother is also a designer,” Winifred said with a smile.

“Yes, I know.” Catherine headed to the table and put down her things. “He’s an architect.”

“How did you know?” Winifred asked in surprise.

Catherine felt her breath catch. “Ah, well, I believe your mother must have mentioned it.” She caught Carter’s look of surprise, then watched his expression relax.

“Of course. Mother has a way of mentioning a great many things.”

Winifred giggled, and Catherine chose that moment to refocus the discussion. “These are the fabrics I found, as well as some of the trims I had in mind.”

Winifred took her seat and began to review the pieces. “This is perfect. I love the shade. Oh, Catherine, I am so excited about this gown. Perhaps for the first time in my life.”

Catherine saw the exchange of looks between brother and sister. Carter seemed very happy for his sister, and his joy at her pleasure touched Catherine deeply.

“You’ll impress many a potential suitor in this gown, to be sure,” Carter teased.

Winifred blushed. “I don’t care about impressing many suitors. I would be happy just to have one—one who would meet my needs.”

Carter laughed, surprising Catherine. “And what would those needs be?”

“He must love me, silly. I won’t marry for any other reason, despite Father’s ranting.” She looked up suddenly, as if she’d said too much.

Catherine pretended to be busy checking something on the sketch. “I have some burgundy cording that I think will work well for the trim on the waist of the bodice.” She looked for the piece among her swatches.

“Do you have a suitor, Catherine?”

Catherine’s head shot up at Winifred’s question. She blinked blankly several times. “Ah . . . no. My work here . . . well . . . it keeps me very busy.”

“I can hardly believe someone so beautiful would not have many suitors,” Winifred replied. “Wouldn’t you agree, Carter?”

“I do find it very surprising. Either the men in Philadelphia are blind, or perhaps they simply do not frequent women’s dressmaker shops. I shall have to put the word out that there are lovely young ladies being overlooked.”

Catherine knew her composure was quickly slipping away.

When the clock chimed three, she nearly jumped a foot. “I’m sorry,” she said at Carter’s and Winifred’s startled expressions.

“I have so many appointments and I didn’t realize the time had passed so quickly. If you approve of the materials and design, then I will get the girls to create a pattern of the bodice.” Catherine quickly gathered the swatches as she spoke.

Just calm down,
she told herself.
You’ll give yourself away for sure if you don’t appear at ease.
She forced herself to stand still and look at the siblings as if bored.