Page 11 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

“Your Grace,” she greeted, rising from her seat.

“You do not have to stand on ceremony with me, Catherine.” The Duke smiled. “We are old friends, are we not?”

Indeed they were, but when she remembered the pleasure he’d given her the night before with just an almost kiss, she needed to maintain a healthy distance if she was to escape their arrangement unscathed.

He was a renowned rake, after all, and even though she was inexperienced, she wasn’t so stupid that she didn’t know he could seduce her into ruin if he wanted to.

She really didn’t want him to, so she’d picked a practical dress. The high neckline and plain colors would definitely ward him off.

“Indeed, we are, but it is too improper for me to call you by your Christian name, Your Grace.”

“Is it not even more improper to refuse a duke?” he chided with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That’s why it’s best that we keep this conversation between us, Your Grace.”

He laughed and shook his head, and pride surged through her at the fact that she was able to make him laugh.

“I had forgotten how fun it is to speak with you,” he admitted. “I have missed you.”

Likewise.

But she kept that to herself.

A few moments later, Emmeline appeared in a gown that was two Seasons old, and Catherine knew then where she’d like to begin.

“Good morning, Catherine,” Emmy greeted with a wave and a bright smile, sitting beside her. “I hear you will be giving me lessons in decorum.”

“Indeed,” Catherine confirmed, surprised at her friend’s cheerful demeanor.

She’d feared that Emmy would see her involvement as a betrayal, but she was grateful to be spared from her ire.

“I look forward to it.” Emmy beamed. “So, where do we begin?”

“Shopping,” Catherine announced with a smile.

“Shopping?” the siblings asked in surprise.

“I am not sure how that even—” Richard started, only to be interrupted by Catherine.

“I have looked at Emmy’s dresses between yesterday and today, and I must say they are too outdated if you want her to have good prospects. I, myself, am hardly fashionable, but I know a good modiste who will make her the belle of the Season.”

“Oh.” Emmy clapped excitedly. “You’re really good at being a tutor, Cathy.”

“If you think it’s absolutely necessary,” Richard relented. “I don’t think a responsible man would be so concerned with a woman’s dress when looking for a wife.”

“If only all men shared the same opinion.” Catherine sighed. “We really must get going if we are going to be there on time. She gets really busy at noon.”

“Where is she, then?” he asked, frowning. “If she is that popular, why have I never heard of her?”

“Do you make a habit of visiting modistes, Your Grace?”

Emmy laughed and then clapped over her mouth. “Sorry, Brother.”

They hurried into the family’s carriage and were silent during the thirty-minute drive to the modiste’s. Thirty minutes because everyone in town apparently had somewhere to go.

“Good morning,Mesdames,Monsieur!” the modiste, Madame Francine, greeted when they stepped into her tastefully decorated shop, which was thankfully empty. “What can I help you with today?”

Usually, there was such a crush that there was barely any room to have a consultation with the woman herself.

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