Page 31 of A Most Improper Duchess
‘My lady, would you like tea?’
‘I am not, my lady,exactament,’ Vivianne said. ‘Do you have that flannel in mauve?’
How glorious, how completely indulgent to stand in one place while the most languorous silk tumbled over her chest, as a bolt of velvet rolled across the floor, as a feather was tucked behind her ear and a string of beads slithered over her shoulder.
But what to choose? Which lace? Which silk?
‘I cannot decide,’ she said. ‘They are all so beautiful.’
‘Do not think too much of the colours, or combinations. That is my job. Think of place, and presence. When you step out, how do you want tofeel?’ the tailor asked.
Vivianne flung her arms wide and turned in a half circle. ‘Like the prima ballerina!’ All the ladies gave a cheer as the words exploded from her. She hugged herself with joy. It was all soperfect.
‘I did not approve Venetian lace.’
Vivianne’s breath caught in her throat. ‘Arley!’ she exclaimed, then flung herself across the room and into his arms. ‘It’s all so beautiful!’
‘Propriety, Vivianne,’ he said in a hush as he gently pushed her to arm’s length. ‘I thought you might like a walk. With a chaperone, of course.’ He shot a look across at the tailor. ‘Do you have everything you need?’
The tailor nodded. ‘Everything and more.’
Hand tucked into his familiar elbow, and followed by a watchful Mrs Crofts, Vivianne let Arley lead her down the drive and out into his street. He pointed at the long row of townhouses as he described each occupant in turn. ‘The green door is Benton Hunter. Still abroad, thank heavens. He has a tendency for disruption.’
‘I like disruption,’ she said.
‘Not his type. For a man trained in diplomacy, he is awfully lacking in it when at home. Between him and your host are the Miss Hartrights, Petunia and her niece, Elise. Spinsters, both of them.’
‘Spinsters? But I have seen Elise. She is so young.’
‘Scandal hurts more than the person who courts it, I’m afraid. Her sister didn’t mean it, I’m sure. And the fellow at the heart of it… I met him once. He seemed like a good man. Certainly better than the one she was engaged to. But in this city, gossip weighs more than reason. And poor Elise bears the brunt of it.’
As they walked, he told her about the house being renovated to take lodgers for the company, and the story of the old woman who had lived in Number 6, which was now a vacant block only inhabited by a grey cat with a white tipped tail who scampered between the rubble, to the brown brick where the woman who was the brains behind their business lived. With a shout, the door of Number 3 opened, and a bundle of children tumbled out into the street and raced toward the park. And trailing her and Arley the entire way was an attentive Mrs Crofts.
‘Your Mrs Crofts is a proud defender of my virtue. Perhaps someone should tell her she will need to sail across the Channel to find it. I have not seen it for many years.’
Arley smothered a laugh. ‘I suggested one of her staff, but she insisted on seeing the duty through herself.’
‘Why do we have to be chaperoned at all? It’s not as if we haven’t—’
‘Shhh!’ He glanced over his shoulder, before giving her a conspiratorial smile. ‘Heavens, don’t remind me. I think about it constantly. It’s insufferable, how much I miss you. But appearances matter. People gossip at the slightest thing.’
‘So if people knew I had your cock—’
‘Vivianne!’
‘In my mouth.’
He wiped his hand down the length of his face and gave her a mock look of frustration.
‘They would be offended?’
‘Yes, they would be.’ He bumped his elbow against hers. ‘I will not sleep tonight.’
‘Good. You deserve to suffer for sending me away.’ Vivianne toyed with her glove button. ‘You could have had your pick of those innocent misses. And lovely ladies, too. I thought I would despise them, but I do not.’
Arley stilled her fidgeting fingers with his broad hands and turned her to face him. ‘I did not want some innocent miss. I chose you, and when I was just a humble monsieur, you chose me. Nothing else matters.’
Vivianne pushed herself onto her toes, craving his lips. With a glance over her shoulder, Arley turned his head. She lowered herself again.
