Page 39 of A Duke for Stealing
“Now this will be with silver thread when it is finished, not white,” the modiste explained as she pointed to the lace,” and there will be a silver lace trim at the edges of the skirts and the sleeves as well. Shall we try it on?”
“No,” Rose said, as her friends, save for Ophelia, all said “Yes!”
“Oh, you must try it on, Rose!” Seraphina urged. “It is so very beautiful!”
Rose threw her a warning look, and Seraphina immediately pressed her lips shut. She then looked back at the gown, wishing more than anything that she could find something to hate about it.
“You heard Mrs. Tate,” Amelia said, her tone gentle yet insistent, “Everett is not going to allow you to leave here empty-handed.”
“And she already put so much lovely work into the design,” Theo added.
Rose took another long look at the gown. It truly was a masterpiece, or would be when it was finished.
“Very well,” she begrudgingly agreed.
“Oh, I am so very glad you like it!” Mrs. Tate exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Now that you have seen this one, would you be willing to look at the other pieces I have pulled for you?”
Rose could not say no to Mrs. Tate’s eager look, and she knew then that the woman had already picked out the best for her. It would be rude, Rose decided to take her frustration with Everett out on someone who so clearly loved her work.
“Yes, Mrs. Tate, that shall be fine,” Rose said kindly, adjusting her attitude. “I am sure whatever you have picked out is lovely.”
As she followed Mrs. Tate behind the dressing curtain, Rose cursed her husband. For being so frustrating, and for seeming to always get whatever he wanted, even from her.
“Is there anything else you would like to go over, Your Grace?” Mrs. Mulberry asked.
Everett took one last look at the duties she was to attend to while he and Rose were away, and shook his head.
“No, I believe that is everything, Mrs. Mulberry. We will leave for the London house the day after next and return some time after next week’s end,” he replied. “Have you sent a small number of staff to have it cleaned and ready for us?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. Mulberry replied. “Your brother was very practical in the same way. Not wanting a house staffed when empty. Our people are used to traveling ahead and such.”
Everett nodded, feeling strange that his estranged brother and he shared such a unique sensibility, even if they did have money to burn. He wondered, fleetingly, what other sort of traits he and his late older brother had shared. He shook his head, not wanting to encourage such sentimental thoughts, and returned his focus to the housekeeper.
“Then that is everything,” he replied.
“Very good, Your Grace,” Mrs. Mulberry replied with a curtsey.
“How are you getting along with her, by the way?” He asked as she was about to turn to leave.
He hadn’t wanted to ask. Hadn’t wanted to think about her at all. Not after the way he lost himself last night. Yet while he could hold back his curiosity for his brother, he could not hold so back forher.
Mrs. Mulberry turned back to him with a raised brow.
“Your Grace?” She asked.
“Rose- I mean, the new Duchess of Stapleton. How do you find her?” Everett asked.
Mrs. Mulberry looked surprised to be asked such a question.
“You may tell the truth, Mrs. Mulberry,” Everett urged. “I should need to know if she is not up to the tasks required of her.”
It was not that he was angry with Rose, but he was certainly annoyed with her. The longer they lived together, the more his mind and body gravitated toward her presence. It had him looking lost in important meetings; it had his thoughts constantly running to her. Imagining her in the most delicate of positions. Yet every time he’d tried to seduce her, she always seemed to find a way to get away from him.
Save, of course, for last night. However, he was not certain at all if the seduction was his doing or hers. They’d both seemed to have been trapped in a thrall that neither solely created, but rather, they’d formed together.
As if that loss of control was not enough, he then, of all things, this morning, found himself sending word to the Modiste to order Rose a dress. Not justadress, but an entire wardrobe with strict instructions on using only the finest fabrics. He was not a man to send trinkets to women. They shared pleasure and flesh with women, not romance. Yet here he was, placing an order for not one, but several pieces of finery he envisioned his wife looking beautiful in. Not ravishing.Beautiful. Elegant.He felt like he was turning into the man he used to mock.
“In truth, Your Grace, when I first met the new Duchess, I assumed she would be a little green,” Mrs. Mulberry said, pulling him from his thoughts, “But she has taken herresponsibilities with enthusiasm and grace. And as for the children…”
