Mrs. Elliot led her daughter into the hat shop. “Oh my, what a magnificent selection! Just look at these feathers! They’re enormous.”
Grace listened to her mother with half an ear. She didn’t care about hats or feathers or dresses. She had just spent hours at Madame Marielle’s being poked and prodded, allowing her mother to choose whatever she wished.
Grace’s attention was on the gentleman seriously studying a pink ruffled bonnet. Charles Lancaster!
Her breathing became more difficult. She had not seen Charles since the country picnic a few years ago. If possible, he had grown even more handsome.