Clockwork Blue (50 page)

"
What is it? And how do you know it isn
'
t ready?
"
She tilted her head, her brows puckered, and God help him, he wanted to smooth away that line of concern. By thunder, he had to get away.

"
It
'
s something only a man can discern, and trust me, I know.
"

He arose from the sofa. Stifling the urge to bolt out of the chamber in unsophisticated haste took all his concentration.
"
For the next several days, I must oversee the d
ye
house while we wait.
"

In desperation, he closed the door
, a physical barrier and too easy to overcome
. When was the last time he
'
d wanted like this?
Simple to
answer—never. Not before his brother
'
s death, when he
'
d been free to indulge as he wished, and certainly not since. He would get a handle on this desire, would hold himself aloof even if it killed him.

And if this night was an example of what was to come, it just might.

"
Mark my words,
Nicola
Moore
was forced into this
marriage
.
"

Malcolm
paused in writing figures and peered through the gap in the velvet curtains that divided th
e office from the
fabric shop
he now owned through marriage to Nicola
. Two elderly ladies stood in the aisle, gossiping. Did society know of his blackmailing
Nicola
? Or was it because he was so dark and she was so bright that there couldn
'
t be any other explanation for their union but coercion?

Carefully, he returned the quill to its well and sat back in the old chair. One of the legs wobbled. He took note to exchange the chair as soon as possible. For that matter, he would find another location for the d
ye
office. Like the tide of the Nene River, a continuous flow of customers walked in and out of the adjoining display room full of bolts of cloth d
ye
d various colors. All the commotion made him distinctl
y uneasy.

Through the doorway, he could see the two women standing near a table. His attention snagged on the one who was nodding her head in an authoritative manner, whose air of expertise was hindered only by the fact she carried a rooster under her arm. And that she was rather odd-looking. The green gown she wore mere
ly emphasized her wiry frame
. Tufts
of slightly greenish hair
frizzed
out from under her forest-colored bonnet.

Her companion—with skinny arms poking out from bell-cupped sleeves and a gown that was as bright a
ye
llow as any
Malcolm
had ever seen—turned from inspecting a bolt of lavender cloth.
"
You are saying the
Callers
chose him?
"

Mrs. Rooster nodded her head emphatically.
"
I
'
m certain of it, aren
'
t you? The little pixies always do their work quickly. Why, when Birch
Diderot
was struck with Cupid
'
s arrow, he married Anna fast enough.
"

The elderly women talked about
pixies
as if they were commonplace. Bloody hell, this province was teeming with superstitious villagers! He didn
'
t know why the fact amazed him, but he was still surprised.

The
glowing-yellow
woman fingered an orange
swatch of weave.
"
Somehow, I can
'
t imagine the Black Falcon falling in love like Birch did with Anna. He was so doting.
"
She sighed, and then rubbed the cloth experimentally.
"
He catered to his wife
'
s every whim.
"

Mrs. Rooster clucked and touched some sky-blue cotton.
"
Well, it
'
s already starting with the Black Falcon. You do know he set her up in a
beautiful salon just off Pica
dilly, don
'
t you?
"

"
You
'
re jesting.
"

"
I
'
m not, and I don
'
t know why he did it other than to cater to her whims.
"

He did it to keep her happy so that they could live their separate lives. However,
Malcolm
wasn
'
t about to correct the gossipmongers. Strangely enough, he discovered he had the urge to protect
Nicola
. The feeling bemused him. Since when had he felt compelled to shield another person? Long ago, he had learned that those tendencies led to disappointment. He
'
d thought himself finished with such notions and didn
'
t like them creeping upon him.

Mrs. Rooster
'
s lips thinned.
"
You know poor
Nicola
was never good at millinery, and buying a pretty shop won
'
t change that.
"

"
True.
"
The thin woman held up cloth d
ye
d with swirls of
ye
llow and peach.
"
Isn
'
t this just lovely? Too bad she didn
'
t inherit any artistic talent from her father. Mayhap the Black Falcon will get rid of the shop when he discovers her lack of ability.
"

"
Perhaps, but I don
'
t think so. Bea, believe me, the Earl is on his way to being harnessed
and tethered.
"

The thin woman examined her fingers, obviously looking to see if the d
ye
rubbed off the cloth.
"
I still don
'
t see it. Do you think the Callers made a mistake?
"

What were Callers? If he was to get to the bottom of this strange conversation, he had to ask. As he stood, the chair groaned loudly. The woman called Bea turned her head and met his gaze, then froze. Her golden e
ye
s stared
at him. Her chin was pointy
..
. and so were her ears. She was the strangest-looking woman he
'
d ever seen.

Mrs. Rooster continued looking at cloth.
"
They never make a blunder. I tell you, Bea, he
'
ll soon be tam—Bea, what
'
s wrong?
"

Her friend stared at
Malcolm
, opening and shutting her mouth like a fish in a net. Mrs. Rooster turned and gawked too. Her emerald e
ye
s glowed and her
broad
cheeks seemed emphasized by a narrow, protruding chin. Her tufts of hair looked
almost...
green.

Malcolm
walked toward the pair.
"
Pardon me, but I couldn
'
t help overhearing your conversation.
"

Both women were gasping for air.

He continued on, used to disconcerting people. For an instant he wondered what it would be like to have a normal conversation—without the caution, without the fear—then decided he must be soft in the head.
"
Who or what are Callers?
"
he inquired politely.

Mrs. Rooster turned as red as the comb on her pet
'
s head.
"
Uh, d-don
'
t mind us, my lord. We
'
re just fanciful old fools. G-Good day to you.
"
Both women made awkward curtsies and scuttled out the door.

Malcolm
followed to try to get answers, but the women were nowhere to be seen. He checked the nearby alley, but it was empty. Had they vanished into thin air? He shook off the thought, wondering instead if he
'
d been working too hard on the books.

A sudden stab of emptiness hollowed his stomach. Shaking off the queer feeling, he returned to his decrepit office where he sanded the latest figures on the inventory, then pushed the parchment aside and checked his watch. The hour was getting late.

He decided he would visit his new wife at her salon to see how she was faring. And while he was there, he would ask her about the strange conversation. He remembered his vow the previous night to leave her alone for a fortnight, so the millinery was the safest place to visit her.

Nicola
watched as her last
customer left with only a handful of
Clockwork
Blue
ribbon. The other patrons had merely looked, curious to see the shop. Oh, that one woman had bought a bonnet for her infant, and Lady Celeste had purchased a hat. But all in all, it had been a boring, unprofitable day.

What was wrong? Why hadn
'
t business picked up? The new shop was lovely. Nothing was amiss—unless there was something wrong with her product. No, she refused to even consider that possibility. No sense in allowing insecurity to dampen her enthusiasm.