The Governess's Convenient Marriage. Amanda McCabe

finished for Paris, as well. The repairs to the yacht will be finished by Friday, so everything is quite on schedule. The latest reports from Monsieur Jerome’s architecture office are on your desk, as you see. The store will be finished on time and you will be able to depart for the grand opening as planned.’

      ‘You mean we will be able to depart.’

      For once, a tiny gleam of interest pierced Miss Mersey’s admirably steely exterior. ‘We, Mr Gordston?’

      ‘Of course. I could never manage my business in Paris without you.’

      ‘But the store here…’

      ‘Mr Jones will be perfectly able to oversee things for a few weeks. If you can bear to tear yourself away for a time by the Seine. Maybe dine in a café or two, a new hat…’

      Miss Mersey’s brow arched over her spectacles. ‘I think I could bear that, Mr Gordston, for the sake of my employment.’

      ‘Certainly. Now, Miss Mersey, about the new shipment of muslins from India…’

      * * *

      Once all the morning business was concluded, Miss Mersey closed her notebook and turned to leave, a stack of letters in her hand to be typewritten.

      ‘Miss Mersey,’ he called impulsively.

      ‘Mr Gordston?’

      ‘Do you happen to know of a customer who is a young lady, very petite, with pale blonde hair? Terrible taste in hats?’

      Miss Mersey tapped her pencil thoughtfully on her notebook’s leather cover. She had a prodigious memory, almost as good as Malcolm’s own, and could remember every detail of every regular customer, their orders and perfumes and likes and dislikes. But that description was probably too vague even for her. ‘There is Miss Petersham. She is blonde and ordered that odd parrot hat last month. Or Lady Minnie Grant? Mrs Gibson?’

      Malcolm shook his head. He knew all those ladies and none of them was his fairy. ‘If she’s been in, I doubt she’s a regular.’

      Miss Mersey’s brows went even higher. ‘She, Mr Gordston?’

      ‘Just someone I met in the park. I was—curious.’

      ‘Curious, Mr Gordston?’

      He tossed down his pen. ‘Yes. That’s all, Miss Mersey, thank you.’

      ‘Of course. Oh, I almost forgot. This came for you. An invitation to Lady Cannon’s garden party.’

      Malcolm glanced down at the engraved card she handed him. ‘How boring.’

      ‘Just so. But it’s one of the most sought-after events of the Season and Lady Cannon is a very good customer. Perhaps just a tiny little short appearance?’

      He knew she was right and gave a brusque nod. ‘Just a tiny one.’

      Miss Mersey gave a delicate little cough. ‘About the lady—I could make enquiries among the staff? Maybe they have noticed her.’

      ‘No,’ he snapped irritably, because what he really wanted to do was shout Yes, of course, find her! And that would be a mistake. ‘Thank you, Miss Mersey.’

      She sniffed and spun around to leave the office, the door clicking shut behind her. No matter how miffed she was, she would never slam. Malcolm reached for the architect’s drawings of the Paris store and tried to concentrate on the important business at hand, expanding Gordston’s on to the Continent.

      Yet he couldn’t quite get a pair of wide, heather-coloured eyes out of his mind.