An Honest Heart by Kaye Dacus

Author:Kaye Dacus [Dacus, Kaye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Christian, Romance, Christian Fiction, Historical
ISBN: 9781433677212
Google: rhNkAgAAQBAJ
Publisher: B&H Publishing Group
Published: 2013-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

Oliver stood back and watched as the Chawley Abbey carpenter set the second pane of glass into the rebuilt sash in the front door of Miss Bainbridge’s shop.

“I am so relieved the money was returned.” He patted the breast pocket of his coat. “I had come fully prepared to reimburse you for the cost of M’lady’s gowns.”

Miss Bainbridge reached up and touched the wing of hair that did little to conceal the bandage covering half of her forehead. Her smile looked weary. “I appreciate your generosity. But now I will not have to forego my visit to London and the Exhibition.”

Oliver turned toward her, his attention fully caught by her words. “You intend to visit the Great Exhibition?”

“Yes. I understand there will be displays of fabrics and fashions from all over the empire. I would be remiss not to attend.” She finished rolling fabric onto a wooden bolt, then reached overhead to slide it in between others on a shelf, like books.

Oliver gazed at the rows of shelves containing dozens and dozens of bolts of fabrics, from the most vulgar cottons and muslins to exquisite silks and linens. Only someone of high intelligence and business acumen could have built a business that attracted rich and poor alike. He could think of no other shop his mother patronized that also counted residents of Jericho as customers. In fact, she usually shunned those types of places.

He supposed that because M’lady did not have to set foot inside the shop, she did not have to admit that Miss Bainbridge counted some of the poorest residents of Oxfordshire among her clientele. And M’lady usually looked better in the elegant but understated gowns Miss Bainbridge made for her than the ostentatious creations from her London dressmakers.

“And it will be a chance to see what all the ladies of London are wearing, will it not?” Oliver leaned on the high table in the center of the shop where Miss Bainbridge had just cut a measured length of the cotton duck she’d just re-shelved.

A slight pinch formed between her fine, dark brows, but it quickly disappeared. “Yes, of course.”

Now she sounded like she was humoring him. That wouldn’t do. “I am certain, though, that you find other ways to keep abreast of the latest styles. Through . . . magazines and such.”

“And such.” She flinched when the bolt of fabric beside the one she pulled out came out and started falling toward her forehead. Quick as lightning, she caught the rogue bolt and pushed it back in place before it could cause her further harm.

She carried what must be a heavy load to the table and began unrolling the coarse indigo fabric. It landed with a hollow thud on the table each time the flat board rolled over as she measured several yards of the stuff.

Oliver reached across the cutting table to feel it—it was as rough as it looked. He wrinkled his nose. “What on earth is this used for?”

“This is denim. It is quite durable,

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