The Merry Widow Read Online Free PDF Page B

tah keep them all straight for as long as ye ‘ave, especially wit’ ye being a woman, tight corset and all,” he enumerated in his soft Scottish brogue.
    Phillipa smiled ruefully at the irony of his observation. Her being a woman was exactly why her business had flourished, because she’d never taken for granted the opportunity that had been bestowed upon her by her late husband. However, it was this same feminine nature that now interfered with the proper running of her business. Not to mention being the cause of her sudden inability to concentrate on anything else but her evening with Reggie.
    Thankfully a knock at her office door saved her from further embarrassment. Hadley rose. “Well, ma’am. I will get those estimates for a new ship to ye by the end of the week. Considering yer state, are we still invited for tonight? My Martha just loves yer quarterly dinner parties.”
    “Of course,” Phillipa said automatically. She watched him unfold his long frame from the seaman’s chair as her mind processed his last statement. And then it suddenly struck her. Tonight was the quarterly dinner party she hosted for her office staff and ship captains to reward them for their hard work.
    “Of course we’re still on for tonight!” Phillipa exclaimed with an excess of enthusiasm as her mind whizzed over all the preparations she’d been too occupied this morning to confirm with Beatrice.
    The foreman nodded. “Good. We will see you later this evening then.”
    But as the door closed behind him, she jumped up from her chair and hurried over to the hat tree in the corner. She snatched the gray top hat off the wooden rung and shoved it down on her neatly placed curls. While she was pulling on her black kid gloves, her office door suddenly burst open and Lucy bounded in, her cheeks flushed.
    “He’s here again, Mrs. Jones.”
    “Who’s here, Lucy?” she asked, draping her reticule over one wrist.
    “It’s Viscount Bellomont. Supposedly he was in the neighborhood, and he thought you might join him for afternoon tea at the Surrey Tea Room.”
    Phillipa stiffened with indignation. “While we talk business, of course. That man’s tenacity is boundless! I would rather eat dinner with the Whitechapel murderer than the honorable viscount.”
    “Ohhh, don’t say that, Mrs. Jones,” Lucy gasped, her hands coming to her throat. “That murderer is straight from hell, methinks. Right from the belly of the beast! Nothing like his lordship.”
    “I’m sorry, Lucy, that was a bad analogy.” Phillipa sighed, knowing how on edge the entire city was while that monster remained on the streets. “Could you please tell Viscount Bellomont that I thank him for his invitation, but unfortunately, I have to leave early this afternoon to take care of pressing matters at home. I need to see if everything is in preparation for our quarterly dinner party this evening.”
    “Oi! I plain forgot meself! I will dispatch him posthaste, ma’am. Do you want me to send for your carriage?”
    “That won’t be necessary. Mr. Hadley is still here. He can do that for you on his way back to the docks.”
    ***
    “You should ‘ave sent for yer carriage, Mrs. Jones. It isna safe for a woman to be riding in a hired coach by herself.”
    Phillipa patted Mr. Hadley’s arm as they walked down Leadenhall. “No need to worry, Mr. Hadley. I assure you I can take care of myself.”
    When they reached the end of the block, he stepped to the curb and raised his arm. “Are you sure ye do not need me tah accompany ye home?” he asked, a worried look passing over his face.
    “Mr. Hadley, I will not hear of it. After you procure me a cab, you will go home and bring your wife to my dinner.”
    Then they were interrupted. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Jones.” Reggie reached up, swept the black felt bowler covering his dark curls from his head, and bowed at the waist.
    Although it was midday in the midst of August, Phillipa knew it was more than the afternoon sun