Page 78 of Dare to Love a Duke
“They are utterly useless,” he said with a nod, “and yet irresistible.” He smiled at the woman manning the booth. “We seek trinkets, madam.”
The woman held up one arm draped with ribbons. “Finest satins for the lady. Or perhaps lace? These embroidered trimmings are exceptionally outstanding.” As she spoke, she displayed different lengths.
Lucia could not resist, and stroked each ribbon lovingly. Such things were entirely frivolous, yet the colors and textures were utterly delightful.
In Napoli, there had barely been enough to keep her clothed in rags, and she and Mamma would lie in bed at night talking of what sort of beautiful garments they’d wear, if only they had a bit of money. Mamma had died in her threadbare shift. Now, whenever Lucia slipped into a pretty gown, she did it for herself—and her mother.
“I do love to adorn myself,” Lucia admitted.
“A bit of beauty nourishes the soul,” he agreed. “Isn’t that right?” he asked the vendor.
“Indeed, sir,” the woman said at once. “If the good Lord didn’t want us making ourselves handsome, why would He make so many lovely things? Like this aubergine silk. It would be so charming trimming the lady’s bonnet.”
“We’ll take that, and anything else the lady wants. Make her eyes shine with joy, madam.”
Lucia watched him as he examined a roll of emerald satin with the studiousness of a scholar. A few of her past lovers would sometimes bring her little baubles—cheap, glittering things—but they’d present their gifts to her in the hope of a fuck. They were objects with conditions: access to her quim for the price of a paste necklace.
Not Tom. He gave to her from his heart, no stipulations, no expectations.
Ten minutes later, they left the booth with promises to return later to pick up a sizable bundle. She already planned which member of the Orchid Club staff would get which ribbon, though she knew for certain that Elspeth would get the buttercup yellow and Kitty had to have the one covered in miniscule roses.
From stall to stall, they traveled, stopping to admire carved wooden toys—a soldier painted in jolly crimson was selected for Liam—and observing a man making beeswax candles as bees crawled over his hands and arms.
While she enjoyed her outings to the shops with Kitty and Elspeth, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d allowed herself a day strictly for frivolous pleasure. Responsibilities and worries and burdens fell away, her step growing lighter with each moment, until she believed that if she didn’t have her arm hooked into Tom’s, she might soar up into the air.
She couldn’t suppress a chuckle when Tom boomed with laughter as they rode a swing boat. They watched a puppet show with a throng of children, the performance followed immediately after by a quartet of brightly dressed acrobats leaping and jumping like fleas.
“You’re enjoying yourself?” he asked after the last somersault had been turned.
“So much.” Her cheeks ached from smiling. “I haven’t had a day just for amusements in... I can’t remember when.” Gratitude welled up like so much wine in a cup, liquid and warm.“Grazie.”
Tom grinned. “Your delight is mine, love.”
Love.The word made her stop in her tracks. He’d said it so easily, as if the word itself held little significance—but she could not set it aside so readily. Could he...? Might she...?
Don’t be ababbea.It’s an expression, and nothing more.
Unaware of her thoughts, he patted his stomach. “Revelry stirs the appetite.”
She blinked, bringing herself back to that moment, grounding herself with the scent of trampled dust and the sounds of merriment. “It does,” she said as brightly as she could manage.
He hailed a man pushing a cart.
“Tasty sausages, sir,” the vendor said as he opened the lid on his cart. “Made from the best Devonshire pigs.”
They collected mugs of beer and pieces of fragrant gingerbread, and ate standing up while watching a troupe of dancers spin and wave kerchiefs. Seeing the performers, she fell back through time and crossed an ocean, back to the fairs in Napoli. She and the other children would twirl alongside the women dancing the tarantella for coins, all of them grasping at moments of happiness in between the daily struggle for survival.
I am here now. With this man, in this place. My life is my own, and I’m grateful for everything I have.
She had to keep telling herself that. She couldn’t let herself wish for anything more. This day, with its indulgence and joy, was enough. Being with Tom now was enough.
Her attention strayed from the performance, her gaze lingering on Tom as he enjoyed himself. Each bite he savored, and every sip of beer was met with his hum of approval, all the while his eyes were bright with pleasure. When he caught her looking at him, he winked.
Her heart leapt in response. All he had to do was gaze in her direction, and she felt as though she spun like one of the dancers—giddy, reckless, free. So long as he was beside her, she believed she could do anything.
Oh, she was in danger with him. Yet she couldn’t stop her headlong tumble into emotions she’d never believed she would feel. He made the impossible possible.
“Ring-a-bottle! Try your skill for a ha’penny!”
