Seductive Deception

Chapter 16

Allegra could almost forget Morgan kissed her if it weren't for the fact that when they'd kissed, it left her reeling, unable to make any sense of her world.

It was going to take a lot of her perseverance to forget that she knew the taste of his lips, how it felt to be in his arms, the masculine sound he made in his throat when they'd kissed, and the scent of him— male musk and summer sun.

She grumbled to herself.

All of it sent her spiraling into fantasy before she breached the surface for air, her rationale flooding in with reality.

She'd allowed herself to fall victim to her whims and wouldn't allow that, couldn't allow that. He came too close to finding out. Too close to removing the mask. And whether she was ready for it or not, things had to move forward. She'd worked far too hard to return to that unbearable hell known as the peerage. How could Morgan possibly understand what it was like for her to have once been a caged bird and now be set free? She reasoned with herself as she sewed and knitted her way through order after order.

She was swamped with requests with eight skirts, six bodices, three pantaloons, and two shawls lined up for embellishment and tailoring. She was becoming so renowned in their area for her work on updating, revising, tailoring, and refining cast-down gowns that her name was on the lips of women three boroughs over. She'd already had to get a reprint of her card because she'd gone through an entire case.

It should have made her happy. And for brief moments, when her customers came to retrieve their finished ensembles, it did. However, once they left, she was in a quiet, empty room, alone.

Determined to make things right between her and Morgan, she squeezed in a trip to Regents, hoping to find a small gift to smooth things between them, easing the awkwardness she anticipated.

She was well aware that it was against propriety, if she were a lady. Which, thank goodness, she wasn't.

"Patrick," she called as she knocked on the door of his apartment; it was ajar, so she peeked in. He was sitting beside his mother, reading something in Gallic. He looked like a giant beside her. He was a burly man with a gentle countenance, black hair and a full beard peppered with gray.

"Mornin'," he tipped his head and patted his mother's hand, informing her that he was getting up to greet Allegra. The woman, who was blind, nodded in Allegra's direction and said something to him in Gallic as he bent to kiss her on the forehead.

"I am searching for a present for a friend of mine."

"Mm," he said with a nod, rubbing his beard and twisting the end in his fingers, "what do ye have in mind?"

"That's the thing," she propositioned, biting her lip, "I know he likes whiskey."

"Aye! That's a good start, lass."

He gave her a wide grin, a large gap between his two front teeth.

"Ushers."

"Ushers?"

"Glenlivet scotch whiskey blend. Don' you dare get 'em one made 'ere."

She laughed as she recalled the memory, bundling the glass bottle and tying a satin ribbon to the top.

Feeling accomplished, she came home to complete Louisa's silken stockings and start on her bodice, which would have a bertha collar of Honiton lace with tiny pearlescent beads.

She'd spent hours sewing tiny pearl beads and embellishments to the flounces of the skirts instead of lying face down on her bed feeling sorry for herself. She'd spent enough time feeling sorry for herself, drying her tears, plodding through life.