What the Groom Wants by Jade Lee Page A

could say. She took a breath to lambaste the girl, but stopped long enough to study her assistant. She didn’t see challenge in Tabby’s eyes. What she saw was honest worry, and that startled Wendy enough that she could hold back her words.
    “It is hurting me,” she finally admitted. “But it’ll be done in just a few weeks. Then everything will get back to normal.”
    “But where—”
    Wendy cut her off with a glare. “Don’t you be asking things you have no business knowing. And if you stand around jabbering, I’ll think you don’t have enough work.”
    That was enough for Tabby. She ducked her head and rushed to her table where she began plying her needle and thread. Wendy would have exhaled in relief, but another voice cut through her peace. It was Helaine, the designer and co-owner with Wendy of A Lady’s Favor dress shop.
    “You needn’t tell her,” Helaine said, “but perhaps you would speak with me.” She stepped into the room, her elegant gown and serene expression at odds with the determination in her eyes. “I’ve just made a pot of tea. Would you care to join me in the front room?”
    She phrased it as a question, but there was no doubt she intended to have this conversation with Wendy now. Wendy couldn’t, not with Mr. Lyncott due any moment.
    “I owe you an explanation,” she said, “but couldn’t it wait a couple hours? Please?”
    Helaine gave her a steady look, and for a moment, Wendy thought she’d get a reprieve. But it only took one long breath before she realized how wrong she’d been.
    “You needn’t speak at all, Wendy,” her friend said, “but I have some things to say.” Then she turned and went into the sitting room. It was a lovely area designed to put ladies at ease as they looked at pattern books. Helaine would usually sit with them, looking at one or another while she sketched suggestions for each customer based on their discussion.
    And just as the workroom was predominately Wendy’s area, this place was all Helaine. In fact, it felt more like a countess’s drawing room than the front of any shop. Which, she supposed, was appropriate, as Helaine was now Lady Redhill.
    “Helaine—” Wendy began, but her friend shook her head as they sat. Then she poured the tea as regally as a queen. It was only after she had served Wendy, then herself, that she sat back and regarded her friend.
    “I’m worried about you,” she said baldly. “Your hours have been irregular, even before I got married. The orders are backing up, and you look exhausted all the time. I keep waiting for you to confide in me. I thought that eventually you would tell me or work it out on your own.”
    “And I am!” Wendy shot back, her anger rising, even though she knew Helaine was simply worried. “In a few weeks’ time—”
    “And then there was Claire’s walking dress.”
    She frowned, trying to place the gown. “Claire Wickett? I finished that two days ago.”
    Helaine nodded. “Yes, I know. And here it is.” She twisted in her seat and pulled out the cream and gold day gown from a basket beneath the table. She stood as she held it up, shaking it slightly so that the skirt fell cleanly before her.
    Except it didn’t fall neatly. It bunched bizarrely on the side. Helaine shook it a few more times for emphasis, which was when Wendy realized the horrible truth. She had stitched the gown wrong. Not only wrong, but misshapen enough to ruin the fabric.
    “What happened?” she gasped as she stood to inspect the gown.
    “Happened?” Helaine challenged. “Do you think this was an error in pressing? Wendy, look!”
    Wendy was looking, and no, she hadn’t thought that the mistake was anyone’s but her own. But even staring at the evidence, she couldn’t believe she had done such a thing. She hadn’t sewn anything this badly since… ever. Even as a child, she’d been meticulous about her work. She inspected the seams and the fabric. It was possible she could salvage the material.