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                                        Chapter 72 - Seventy Two
                                
                                                                                        
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... f Lady Tremaine’s Modiste, his heart pounding a nervous rhythm against his ribs. The air smelled of expensive French perfume and freshly pressed silk. He clutched the intercepted letter in his hand, his one ticket past the polished front doors.
"Good day, sir. How can I help you?" a young, impeccably dressed salesperson asked, her expression polite but questioning.
George put on his most humble, subservient face, a look he had practiced in the carriage on the way over. He bowed s ...
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