eyes were glowing with that same determination and tenacity he’d seen several times already.
He shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Not officially anyway. Though I did believe there was an understanding between myself and a young lady.”
There, he’d told her all he wished to reveal. Even his vague description of his and Beatrice’s time together had resurrected the long-buried sting of her rejection. He didn’t wish to dwell on it anymore.
“What you need is a new wardrobe,” he declared, only too happy to return to the earlier topic. Maggy’s irritation over what he thought of her dresses was far safer and less painful than reopening the past.
She studied him a moment and Edward had a sudden urge to ask what she observed. Did she see the often neglected, thrown-over third son of Lord and Lady Healey? Or did she see the successful rancher?
“A new wardrobe?” she repeated at last. “Is that really necessary?” She made a face as if he’d asked her to roll around in a stable stall.
Edward couldn’t help the upward tilt of his mouth—both at her entertaining grimace and in relief that she hadn’t hounded him for information about Beatrice. “Some women are actually thrilled by the thought of new clothes. Especially when they are at the expense of someone else’s pocketbook.”
“You’re going to pay for new clothes...for me?” Her astonishment both amused and confused him. Had no one ever bought her anything before?
He picked up his water goblet. “I don’t think it entirely fair to ask Pinkerton to foot the bill. Not when you need to be outfitted with an entire new wardrobe.”
“Entire?” Her eyes narrowed. “What exactly does that mean, Edward?”
Taking a sip, he set down his glass. “You know—day dresses, evening dresses, hats, gloves, possibly even a ball gown. The wives’ club will host their annual summer ball in another month.”
“Why would I need a new hat and gloves?” Maggy retorted, her expression darkening. “It all sounds rather excessive. Not to mention a great waste of money.”
He had the impression she lumped herself in with the clothes as something—someone—unworthy to spend money on. Why would that be? She’d shown such confidence in herself as a detective. Did she not see herself as valuable outside of her profession?
“I agree it may be excessive.” She looked as if she could breathe again, until he continued. “But a waste or not, that is what you’ll need in order to convince these women you are one of them.”
“Fine. If asked, I’ll say my luggage was misplaced and I needed to replace what I lost.” She jutted out her chin as she forked another bite, the tongs tapping the plate with force. “And when am I to be subjected to the joys of obtaining a new wardrobe?”
He chuckled—he was coming to like her cheeky humor. “Tomorrow. That way we can square things up with the livery stable to have transportation at your disposal during your stay.”
“We’re keeping the nag and the buggy then?”
Edward scoffed, shooting her a teasing look. “The buggy, yes. But not that nag. Something tells me you’d appreciate a more spirited horse to convey you to and from club meetings.”
A mischievous smile chased the annoyance from her expression. “I believe that’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say all evening.”
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