Page 41 of Three Nights with the Beastly Duke

He had. In fact, the only details he didn’t have trouble keeping track of anymore were the ones about his wife. Especially her scent, her touch, her taste…

“Not at all,” he replied, lying.

“Lavinia and I have had the most beautiful dresses commissioned by the Modiste,” Susan went on. “She should be arriving this morning to make the final adjustments.”

“Something with color, I hope.” Marianne sighed, looking over at Lavinia. “You wear black quite well, my girl, but it would do you well not to don it this evening lest people shall believe you are in mourning instead of celebration.”

Arthur felt his annoyance at his mother’s sniping comments and was about to tell her to desist when Lavinia suddenly gave her a calm smile and nodded. “Of course not, Your Grace,” she agreed, her voice clear and gentle. “Susan has been most helpful in assisting me with picking out tonight’s gown design and fabric so that I may bring pride to this home.”

Marianne seemed to be building up some sort of witty retort when the bells suddenly rang. Immediately, Susan jumped up, excitedly taking Lavinia’s hand and pulling her up with her. Arthur was grateful. Though he didn’t trust his wife, he also didn’t want her tormented by his mother.

“She’s arrived!” Susan exclaimed with a smile. “Come, Lavinia, we have much to prepare for before this evening.”

Lavinia got up out of her seat to go with Susan, but as she reached Arthur’s chair, she stopped, looking down at him, and boldly put her hand on his shoulder. Even through the layers of fabric, he could feel her touch sending warmth into him. He wanted to wrap his hand around hers and bring her palm to his mouth. He wanted her to look into his eyes as he slowly enveloped her fingers one by one with his mouth. He wanted to hear her faint gasp, watch her eyes grow wide and glazed.

“I have had something made for you as well, husband,” she told him, her voice soft as she held his gaze. “It would be most appreciated if you join us in a moment to ensure the fitting.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Arthur only nodded, his jaw twitching with restraint.

A short time later, after having another spirited conversation with Marianne, Arthur followed the sounds of laughter and girlish whispers into the parlor. The Modiste had her changing wall and garment tools ready to go for last-minute touch-ups, and sprawled neatly on a long table was a wide assortment of women’s clothing. His eyes were immediately drawn to a particular nightgown lying beside a new, dark purple crushed velvet robe, and he knew right away they were Lavinia’s.

The nightgown was a French design, much more immodest than that of its English counterpart. There were practically no sleeves, and the bodice seemed to dip quite lower into a point that he imagined would almost reach his wife’s navel. Instead of it being made of standard cotton or linen, it was crafted delicately of white lace, leaving little to the imagination. He easily pictured his wife wearing such an alluring piece, and before he knew it, it was in his hands, his rough fingertips gently running over the delicate flower designs.

“What do you think of it, Your Grace?” the Modiste asked, suddenly appearing at his side.

Arthur glanced over to the well-dressed, voluptuous woman at his side and saw she was smiling with pride.

“I made it with special silk newly imported from China,” she informed him. “It feels divine, does it not?”

“Indeed,” Arthur murmured, looking toward the changing wall behind which Lavinia and Susan were still dressing. “How many of these did Her Grace commission?”

“Just one, Your Grace,” the Modiste replied.

“That won’t do.” He shook his head, laying the nightgown down gently. “She’ll take six more, half of them in black, the other half in white.”

“Black, Your Grace?” the Modiste asked, surprised.

Arthur nodded. “She wears it well, does she not?”

“Oui,Your Grace,” the Modiste agreed quickly. “And thank you. I shall work on your new order straight away.”

Before they could discuss anything more, Susan and Lavinia both stepped out from behind the changing wall, giggling like two young school girls. The moment Lavinia saw him, her eyes shifted quickly to the nightgown she’d just put back down, then back up to him as a soft blush colored her cheeks. Arthur smirked and swore her cheeks grew even redder.

“What beautiful gowns,” he praised, starting to shed some of last night’s bad mood.

Susan had chosen a light pink gown with an assortment of pearls sewn into the bodice and down the skirt, and Lavinia had chosen a deep yellow satin gown that shone and moved like liquid gold. Her design had no need for pearls or jewels to make it stand out, for on her, it was glorious enough on its own.

Lavinia beamed at him as she dipped her head in a small, grateful bow. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, moving toward him. “I recall you stating at one time that you are fond of the sunset. When I saw this fabric, that was exactly what I thought of.”

“You chose this for me?” Arthur asked, unable to hide his surprise.

Admittedly, the shade was his favorite color, but he had no idea that Lavinia would have remembered such a small thing.

She nodded her head happily, her smile growing. “I spoke with your valet and was able to obtain some of your sizes,” she explained. “I’ve had a new cravat and cummerbund fashioned for you. I thought, to celebrate our first ball as husband and wife, that it might be festive to match.”

She waved the Modiste’s assistant over to her, who carefully placed the cravat in her hands.

Smiling, Lavinia held the accessory up to Arthur’s neck and smiled. “Yes, just what I thought,” she said. “It highlights the depth of your eyes wonderfully.”

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