Trifling Favors (Redcakes Book 7) Read Online Free PDF Page A

her trade. Her daughter had told Betsy that she’d hired an assistant recently, which pleased Betsy because she thought Mrs. Fair was a cut above the average little dressmaker. She charged a little above the average, too.
    Mrs. Fair greeted her pleasantly at the door. The assistant was bent over the manual Singer sewing machine in front of the single window.
    Unlike in the Bethnal Green dressmaker rooms, Mrs. Fair had a pair of cheval mirrors in one corner and was happy to make a client a cup of tea. Family possessions were neatly put away in a highboy dresser.
    Mrs. Fair took her bundle and opened it on a scrubbed wooden table that held central place in the room. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she saw the damage. “And this was a new un. Just a couple of months old, right?”
    “Yes, my new spring dress.”
    “Lovely to have a position where you’re encouraged to look smart, I allus say,” Mrs. Fair confided. “Well, dearie, you’re going to need new fabric. For a bit extra, I can send my assistant to the market to match it for you.”
    “That would be helpful,” Betsy said. “I don’t want my father alone too much right now. We’ve some trouble with an unstable, err, family friend.”
    “Well, now, Ralph Popham is never getting old,” Mrs. Fair said. “Not even fifty yet. He can manage.”
    Betsy smiled. “Cares, Mrs. Fair. It’s the cares that age a man.”
    The assistant had turned away from her machine as Mrs. Fair spoke. Betsy glanced at her, ready to give the new girl a nod, but her head froze before she could complete the gesture. Was she looking at the assistant, or had she accidentally turned toward a mirror? The seamstress all but shared Betsy’s face. She stepped forward instinctively. Her thighs hit the table. Squeaking with shock, she caught Mrs. Fair’s look of alarm.
    The assistant stood. Dressed in a smart green dress nicer than anything Betsy had ever owned, she looked a picture. Glossy brown hair, big eyes, and an hourglass form more blessed by nature than designed by stays. Betsy knew she was a handsome girl, but this young lady dressed herself as if she had framed a painting, right down to the delicate, old-fashioned pearl ring on her right hand.
    “This is Prissy,” Mrs. Fair said, frowning as she looked from one to the other.
    “Pleased to meet you,” Prissy said.
    Betsy inclined her head. “The same, Prissy.” She cleared her throat, unsure of how to deal with a doppelganger.
    “Back to Redcake’s? My daughter does so enjoy working with you, Miss Popham.”
    “She’s a treat, your daughter Grace. Such a lovely way about her.”
    Mrs. Fair beamed. “Thank you. I’m so glad to hear she’s a credit to her father and me.”
    Betsy nodded, realizing she’d taken Grace on with no experience other than some short-term nursemaiding. Had she been too harsh with Violet? Maybe her feelings about Victor had colored her attitude toward his sister. “I had better return before my lunch hour is over.” She forced a smile for Prissy, though the young woman unnerved her, and left.
     
    Greggory leaned into the doorway between the kitchen and the tearoom just before the teatime rush, watching Betsy as she bustled around, exhorting the cakies to smarten up their assigned tables. She refreshed the small flower vases on the tables, straightened place settings, made sure the hot water was ready. He nodded to her as she swept by him on her way to the kitchen to check the prepared standard tea plates with an assortment of finger sandwiches, tiny scones, and petit fours.
    “Up to standard?” he asked as she passed by again.
    “Always,” Betsy said. “Our Mr. Soeur demands nothing less.”
    “If only our bakery ran as smoothly as the kitchen,” Greggory replied. “We need your father.”
    Betsy shook her head. “He won’t leave his position for our little outpost.”
    “We’re not that much smaller than the original Redcake’s,” he protested.
    “Not