Hattie Glover’s Millinery

businesswoman could not afford to become emotional. She must always remain controlled, composed, and assiduous in protecting her reputation. Her very livelihood depended on it. But the beleaguered girl reminded her too much of herself at that tender age, and perhaps Hattie might be able to offer some wisdom or aid to save Pruett from her fate.
*
“You’re a darling boy and I’ve enjoyed our time together, but I’m afraid it must come to an end.” Lady Anne Cromwell took a drag from her cigarette holder and exhaled a thin plume that coiled around her turbaned head. “Don’t you agree?”
Discarded first! Guy had not anticipated that. Anne’s cavalier dismissal admittedly sent a pang of hurt shooting through him like a twisted ankle. But Guy maintained a smile and responded with an equally nonchalant air. “If that is your wish, madam. I am, as ever, your servant and must obey.”
“Very good. That’s settled then. Tell me, what gossip have you? I’ve been caught up with some, ah, personal business and haven’t been out for a day or two.”
Personal business with a new paramour, Guy guessed. Ouch! Another twist of the old ankle. Still, it had always been his plan to remain friends with Anne, whose sarcasm and clever remarks at the expense of most of society amused him.
Guy offered a rumor. “It is said Sir Edward is so deeply in debt to his creditors that he’s looking to sell Haverston Manor, supposedly to an American millionaire.”
“Do tell?” She leaned closer and her next breath blew smoke into his face. “What will his wife do? Take a permanent Mediterranean vacation with her lover?”
Guy chuckled mirthlessly at the couple’s sad predicament. Why had he ever found this sort of chatter about their peers’ lives interesting or humorous? He imagined Hattie Glover’s attitude about the entertainment value of idle slander. He doubted a woman like her would appreciate mocking people.
As Anne prattled on, Guy felt as if he were watching the pair of them through a telescope from a great distance. They were small and petty people. Suddenly he could not bear the stuffy air of the lady’s sitting room or the scent of her perfume. He couldn’t for the life of him recall why he’d found her so alluring.
He rose abruptly. “I am very sorry, dearest. I forgot an appointment that I mustn’t miss. May we cut short our visit?”
For the first time, a frown creased her smooth brow. “Ah. I’ve gone and hurt you, haven’t I? I didn’t think you cared so deeply.”
“No. It’s not that. I do wish to remain friends as we once were, but I honestly have someplace I must be right now.”
Her expression cleared. “Very well then, give me a kiss for times past and we shall say adieu.”
Guy kissed her lips lightly, then quickly stepped away with a quiet, “Goodbye.” He nearly fled the room and Anne’s Arlington mansion.
Once on the street, he tasted an upsetting stew of emotions. Relief bobbed to the surface like a bright orange carrot, followed by a spear of limp celery complaining about being disposed of. Beneath the stew’s surface, thick, juicy bites of beef begged to be chewed, tempting him to call on the milliner who had filled his thoughts since he met her.
It was too late tonight. The shop would be closed. But tomorrow he might use the pretext of picking up the hat he’d ordered—even though she would not have it ready yet—and attempt to gain some headway with her. He needed to learn more about this fascinating woman and soften her disposition toward him. Bit by bit, he believed he could win her over.
Guy imagined Will would give him a scolding. Romance should not be a sport or a game to win. Leaping from one love interest straight to another is not the plan. You were meant to take some time for reflection.
But it wasn’t as if he was doing this with an eye toward bedding the milliner. He merely wanted to know her better, and to see if he could perhaps startle another brilliant smile or even laughter from her. Another visit to her shop would hurt no one. And if the woman took a liking to him after she knew him better, Guy could not be held accountable for that.

Chapter Three
With a bright new morning, sun shining, birds chirping in the park, workers cleaning the sidewalks for another day’s business, Hattie’s spirits should have been as chipper as those noisy sparrows. Instead, her mind was awash with worry over a problem that was not really hers to solve. She owed nothing to Jennifer Pruett and would be wise to dismiss the matter entirely, yet, she’d made a promise. Hattie could not bear to break her word once given, since she had once been the recipient of such a broken trust. Besides, to whom else could young Jennifer turn? But how in the world could Hattie help her find a way out of her predicament?
Rose arrived at the shop, brandishing a bouquet of posies she must have purchased on the way from her boarding house. She thrust the flowers toward Hattie’s face. “Just smell. Aren’t they delightful? Lily-of-the-valley is my favorite.”
Hattie admired the white flowers and sent one of the tiny bells swaying with a touch of her fingertip. “Lovely, though the scent is a bit too sweet for my taste.”
Rose’s bright smile collapsed. “Sorry. The odor can be overpowering for some people. I’ll throw ’em in the rubbish bin.”
“Nonsense. You enjoy them as you work on Mrs. Darrow’s hat. It’s mostly finished except the ties must be stitched on more firmly, since apparently she will wear it while motoring. Automobiles are not a friend to fashion. The goggles and netted hats women must wear while on a motoring excursion are unsightly.”
“I suppose having their hats shredded by the wind only creates more work for us, which is good.” Rose winked and headed toward the workroom, humming a tune as cheery as her