“Research for what?”
“Never you mind about that,” Norman returned. “But obviously the research Theo and I have done over the past week has not been sufficient to aid us in our experiment.”
“You’ve been doing research all week?”
Norman nodded. “Of course we have. Why else do you think we never got around to stopping in to see you to tell you that the Pinkerton man didn’t come up with much about the accident?”
“Well, other than that he discovered that the man who ran into Norman had a horse saddled and waiting for him, suggesting he wanted to be prepared for a quick getaway,” Theodosia added.
Beatrix opened her mouth to ask more questions but closed it a second later when a lady strolled up to the coat check. Sending Norman a pointed look, she breathed a sigh of relief when he strolled away with Theodosia on his arm, leaving her to get back to her job.
The next fifteen minutes passed with no unexpected surprises, until she returned to the counter after retrieving Mrs. Blossom’s ermine wrap and watched that lady sail off without a word of thanks. That’s when she discovered Norman wandering ever so casually back and forth a few feet in front of the coat check, sporting a Prince Albert jacket done up in a fine gray wool.
“What do you think?” he mouthed, striking a pose before he began wandering again.
“Nice,” she mouthed back, earning a smile from him before he wandered out of sight.
He was back twenty minutes later, wearing a green jacket, and then twenty minutes after that wearing a plaid one.
“Definitely not,” she said, earning a scandalized look from Mrs. Randolph, to whom she’d just given a claim ticket. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Randolph. I was not speaking to you, but to . . .”
The rest of her apology died straightaway because Mrs. Randolph was already stomping away, aggravation evident in her every stomp.
“That lady should avail herself of an etiquette book. She was exhibiting very rude behavior,” Theodosia said, popping up beside the counter so suddenly that Beatrix jumped.
“You just scared me half to death,” Beatrix said, smoothing back a curl that was escaping its pins.
“Sorry about that,” Theodosia said. “But speaking of being scared, thank goodness you dissuaded Norman from that plaid suit. It was dreadful, but he wasn’t taking my word for it.”
“There aren’t many gentlemen who can wear that type of plaid,” Beatrix said right as Norman strolled up to join them, still wearing the plaid in question.
“I don’t know why the two of you don’t care for this jacket,” he began. “I find it to be smashingly fashionable.”
“Plaid may occasionally be considered fashionable, but that’s a really bold pattern and not one you should wear.”
“I don’t look dashing in it?”
“Dashing is not the word that springs to mind, although—”
“I would think Mr. Marshall Field is opposed to his coat check girls flirting with the customers, especially since your flirting is apparently the reason behind you neglecting to realize you have customers waiting to check their wraps.”
Norman and Theodosia turned as one to the gentleman who’d just spoken.
“Mr. Cabot,” Theodosia exclaimed as the man released the arm of a lady dressed in a lovely blue walking gown. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Mr. Cabot, a rather handsome man, if one enjoyed the overly fastidious type, what with how his dark hair was expertly styled and his clothing looked as if it came straight out of a fashion magazine, stepped forward and presented Theodosia with a bow. “Miss Robinson, isn’t this a delightful surprise? Your father didn’t mention a word about you shopping at Marshall Field & Company when I stopped by to see him earlier today.” He snagged hold of Theodosia’s hand, raising it to his lips and placing a kiss on a glove Beatrix had only recently sold her.
“My father and I rarely exchange our plans for the day with each other,” Theodosia said as she withdrew her hand and turned her attention to the lady accompanying Mr. Cabot. “Miss Burden” was all she said before she began to fiddle with one of the flowers, which started to shed its petals as soon as she touched it.
“Miss Robinson,” Miss Burden returned with an inclination of her head. “On my word but you’re looking rather interesting today. Are those fresh flowers attached to your . . . is that a walking dress?”
Theodosia looked down at her gown. “I imagine it might be a walking dress, although I’m not certain about that. I only found this dress the other day when I was searching through old trunks in my attic.”
“And how delighted you must have been to find that frock,” Miss Burden chirped, taking a step closer to Theodosia. “May I assume you’ll be wearing something just as delightful to the Palmer ball?” She nodded to Mr. Cabot. “Mr. Cabot is quite pleased you agreed to attend the ball with him, and I do hope you’ll be just as pleased to learn that the two of you will be joined by me and my escort for the evening, Mr. Clement Moore.” She tilted her head. “Are you familiar with Mr. Moore?”
“Can’t say that I am.”
“He’s most sought-after within Chicago society,” Miss Burden continued. “I’m sure the two of you will become fast friends before the night is through.”
Beatrix glanced at Norman, who was frowning as he looked to Mr. Cabot, then to Miss Burden, then to Theodosia, then back to Mr. Cabot. He was obviously trying to puzzle something out in that extraordinary brain of his, but his silence wasn’t exactly helping Theodosia deal with a most unusual situation.
“May I take your wrap, Miss Burden, and your jacket, Mr. Cabot?” Beatrix asked pleasantly, drawing their attention.
Mr. Cabot nodded before he helped Miss Burden out of her wrap and tossed it at Beatrix before he shrugged out of his jacket and threw that at her as well, his hat following a second later.
Annoyance was swift and only increased when
