Theodosia’s shoulders drooped. “I only have one riding habit and it’s brown.”
Beatrix’s heart gave a lurch at the dejection she saw in Theodosia’s eyes. Pulling a piece of brown paper from beneath the counter, she set the red gloves on top of the paper. “Red gloves would certainly add a nice splash of color to a brown riding habit.”
“Or Theo could purchase a new riding habit that would match the gloves,” Norman said, looking up from the notepad he’d pulled out of his pocket a second after Theodosia had proclaimed she was going to purchase some gloves. “Perhaps, Theo, after you finish selecting a pair or two of gloves, you should take Beatrix’s suggestion and go visit the salon on the second floor.”
Horror flickered through Theodosia’s eyes. “I’m not going to the second floor.” Her hand reached up and touched what Beatrix hadn’t neglected to notice was very unevenly short hair before she gestured to the customers mingling around the different counters. “All these ladies are finely dressed and have their hair styled to perfection. I hate to imagine what the saleswomen would think of me if I, dressed as I am right now and with my hair all but burnt off, showed up on the second floor.”
Even though Beatrix longed to tell Theodosia that the saleswomen would find it a privilege to assist her, she knew that because Theodosia was currently wearing a dress of the dullest shade of gray she’d ever seen, along with sporting numerous stains as well, it would be less than the truth.
The reality of shopping at Marshall Field & Company was this—ladies shopped not only to purchase new items but to be seen in their finery. Enormous and well-decorated hats were a must, as were proper gloves, brooches, fine reticules, and even parasols, if it was overly sunny outside.
Unfortunately, the leather gloves Theodosia had taken off before she’d tried on the riding gloves were worn and cracked, and her hat, an outdated style that suggested Theodosia had purchased it at least five years prior, was missing a good deal of stitching and didn’t sport so much as a single flower or feather on it.
Beatrix had no doubt that if she were to encourage Theodosia to mosey up to the second floor, that woman would soon find herself being scrutinized by the most snobby of saleswomen, even if they would greet her with a smile.
“How are you going to get a new riding habit if you don’t purchase one here?” Norman asked, which earned him a scowl from Theodosia in return.
“I’ll order one from a catalog, just like I order all of my clothing.” Theodosia nodded to Beatrix. “I find the Montgomery Ward catalog to be very convenient, and they send the orders right to my house, which saves me the bother of shopping in a store.”
“But how can you know that clothing will fit you properly?” Beatrix couldn’t resist asking, having never ordered anything in her life from a catalog.
Theodosia shrugged. “I’ve never been one to bother much with that. I just hack off the hem with a knife if a garment arrives too long, or use pins if something’s too large.”
Norman’s brow furrowed. “Why don’t you use a needle and thread to hem your garments instead of hacking at them with a knife? Seems to me your method would cause the fabric to unravel.”
“Have you ever hemmed any of your garments?” Theodosia tossed back at him.
“Of course not, but I’m a gentleman, and no one expects a gentleman to be proficient with a needle and thread.”
“Unless you’re a tailor,” Beatrix said, which earned her an unexpected smile from Norman before he nodded to Theodosia.
“You about finished?”
Theodosia’s nose shot into the air again. “I’ve barely begun.”
It took a great deal of effort to swallow the laugh that was bubbling up her throat. Clearly Theodosia was still put out with Norman and was, if Beatrix wasn’t much mistaken, prolonging her time at the glove counter as a way to punish him for all the annoyance the man had caused her that day.
“If you’d agree to tell Mr. Cabot you’re unable to attend the ball with him, you could then abandon the glove counter, since you must know it doesn’t matter to me if you wear old gloves while in my company,” Norman said.
Theodosia’s eyes flashed. “I’m not going to the ball with you, nor will I disappoint my father by changing my mind about attending the ball with Harvey Cabot.”
“You don’t even like Harvey.”
“I don’t dislike him, and he’s an attractive gentleman, what with his dark hair, somewhat broad shoulders, and a gaze that seems to linger on me quite often.” Theodosia smiled. “He told my father he finds me to be an intriguing lady, giving him hope that Harvey is soon to approach him about courting me.”
“You don’t want a man like Harvey courting you,” Norman said firmly.
Realizing she was rapidly losing control of the situation, and because Mrs. Goodman was making yet another circle around the glove counter, Beatrix decided an intervention was desperately needed. “Perhaps, Mr. Nesbit, if you’d allowed Miss Robinson to know of your interest in her, she wouldn’t have agreed to attend the ball with Mr. Cabot.”
The squabble Norman and Theodosia had been in the midst of came to an abrupt end as the two of them burst into laughter, Theodosia laughing so hard that she came down with a case of the hiccups.
“What an amusing conclusion you’ve come to, Miss Waterbury,” Theodosia said before she hiccupped again, exchanged grins with Norman, then hiccupped once more.
“Indeed,” Norman agreed before he turned his grin on Beatrix, the unexpectedness of his grin causing her to lose her train of thought, until Norman continued speaking.
“As Theo stated before, we’re acquaintances, and neither of us has any interest in changing our acquaintance status. But before you decide to launch into a full-blown argument about that, I believe I’ll remove myself from
