The Devilish Mr. Danvers: The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series by Vivienne Lorret

discovered the cask in Hedley’s attic room and sold each one.
    “You could offer the lot as an assortment of small vases,” Hedley suggested. It was the first idea that popped into her head, but the more she thought about it, the more she liked it. “A single bloom per vase for . . . six days of the week. You could adorn each vase with a different colored ribbon.”
    “Did I hear a mention of vases?” This question came from a woman who’d been admiring a display of combs. Several locks of dark blonde hair escaped from beneath a blue bonnet as she moved toward the clerk’s counter. Stopping beside Hedley, she smiled in such an amiable manner that it almost felt as if they were friends. “I am forever in want of them. Right now, Fallow Hall has an inordinately high number of lilies of the valley.”
    “Fallow Hall?” Hedley started. “I live at Greyson Park.”
    Recognition shone in the woman’s lively brown eyes. “Ah, then you must be the infamous Miss Sinclair who inherited the property.”
    “I am she.” Infamous . Hedley might be able to guess who would cast her in such a light. So then, was this woman someone close to Rafe? Without reason, Hedley’s stomach began to churn and twist into knots.
    “My name is Calliope Croft —oops—I mean, Ludlow ,” the woman said with a laugh. “You see, I’m newly married and still not used to the name.”
    And suddenly, those knots loosened. She exhaled a breath. “Hedley Sinclair.”
    “Miss Sinclair.” Mr. Lynch cleared his throat. “Since there appears to be some interest in your stopper-less bottles, I will increase my offer to two shillings and sixpence.”
    “Only half a crown?” Calliope asked, pursing her lips. “Surely, that price is for the vases alone. Why, the cask is worth its own price. Just look at that detail. Did you say gold and mother-of-pearl, Miss Sinclair?”
    “Um . . . yes.” Hedley was too stunned by her newly introduced neighbor’s support to speak. This had never happened before. In her of years living at Sinclair House, no one had ever stood up in her favor. “Quite.”
    Mr. Lynch squinted at Calliope and then at Hedley, as if he suspected them of trying to cheat him. “A crown for the box, stopper-less bottles, and . . . the shawl.”
    Hedley drew back, laying a protective hand over the pin that held the two ends of the shawl together. Rafe had given this to her. Even though it had meant nothing more than recompense for him, this shawl, and the other items, were the first new clothes she’d ever received. “The shawl is not for sale.”
    The clerk’s mouth twisted with regret. “Half a crown for the box and bottles. That is all I can spare.”
    It was better than leaving empty-handed.
    Reluctantly, Hedley nodded. She cast one final look at the perfume cask and took the coin from the clerk. Beside her, Calliope was silent as they left the shop.
    Together, they stood outside in the narrow alleyway that served as the village market. Shop fronts displayed their wares from boxed windows with freshly whitewashed trim. Men, women, and children alike crowded the serpentine cobblestone path. Spring had arrived, and everyone, it seemed, had decided to venture out of doors.
    Calliope shook her head and frowned. “I don’t understand it. My sister-in-law has a knack for bargaining, where in most instances, the shopkeepers end up giving her things. Obviously, I have been a poor student. I was certain Mr. Lynch would give the crown you were after.”
    Hedley offered a genuine smile to her neighbor. “I thought you did splendidly. And I cannot thank you enough for your efforts.”
    Still, without many items to sell, Hedley wondered how she was going to live. She would have to find work. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough education to be a governess or even a laundress. She could sew quite well. However, she’d been informed on a previous jaunt to the village that nearly every local girl could sew. The dress shop wanted only