Shop assistants unfurled bolts of shiny silk and lustrous silk velvet, splashing waves of color over the tables. The mélange of colors and textures was as disordered as her mind when she thought about West.

She smiled as his sisters piled his strong arms high with bales of fabric even though there were footmen nearby to carry the load. They did love teasing him. And he bore it all with admirable stoicism. Viola had to give him credit, he was behaving like an honorable gentleman.

She stiffened as Lady Winifred entered the shop, looking like an expensive confectionary in a cream-colored pelisse and pink-trimmed bonnet. Blanche immediately brought West to her and then left them alone, none too subtly.

Viola threaded her way behind the piles of fabric, moving closer to hear their conversation.

“Do you think I ought to purchase this dove-gray silk velvet?” Lady Winifred asked, running her gloved hand over a length of fabric.

“It would match your eyes.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?”

A male shop attendant approached Viola, looking dubiously at her simple pelisse and the worn hem of her gown. “May I help you, miss?”

“No thank you, I’m here in attendance on some ladies.”

“In that case, might I demonstrate some fabrics for you to show to them? This is the best silk velvet and won’t be sold at this price for very much longer. See how it drapes softly?” He lifted a length of scarlet silk velvet. “It will make an elegant silhouette.”

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to point it out to my charges.”

He bowed and moved away, sensing that she wasn’t really the decision-maker of the party.

Drat. She’d missed the rest of West’s conversation with Lady Winifred. Now he was talking to twin sisters Eunice and Eugenie Comstock, nearly identical brunettes wearing matching yellow gowns.

“Your Grace,” one of them said. Viola couldn’t tell them apart. “We’re so very sorry about that awful Miss Chandler.”

“Yes, it was most shameful of her,” said the other. “What could restore your spirits?”

They both fluttered their eyelashes at him, clearly implying that one of them could restore his spirits if only he’d make her the next Duchess of Westbury.

“A nice cozy cup of chamomile tea,” West replied with a straight face. “It’s wonderfully restorative, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh we would, wouldn’t we, Eunice?”

“Most definitively, Eugenie. We always drink chamomile tea of an evening.”

“I also like to read novels,” West said, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Do you?” the twins breathed in unison. “Who is your favorite author?”

“Authoress, you should say. I’m partial to the works of Miss Daphne Villeneuve. Have you read any of her romances?”

The twins regarded him with astonishment.

“She’s our favorite,” said Eugenie.

“I’ve never heard of a gentleman liking her novels,” Eunice said.