Page 43 of Taming of the Rake
Strictly business.
Her determination was promptly shattered when David approached the bed without removing his coat as was customary. “Get dressed, we’re going to spend an evening out.”
Frowning, Regina glanced down at her book, then at the transparent fabric draping her breasts. The coverlet hid her from the waist down, but surely he hadn’t failed to notice what she was wearing. The pale lilac netting was so light he must be able to see everything.
His raised eyebrows as his gaze slid downward told Regina he did, yet he remained where he stood, expectantly waiting.
“I beg your pardon?” she replied.
David rounded the bed, swiftly divesting Regina of her book and yanking the bedclothes off her legs. Grasping her hands, he urged her to her feet.
“That … that is nearly enough to convince me to stay in for the night. God’s blood, you are ravishing, my dear.”
Regina grappled for words, torn between thanking him for the compliment, and pulling him to the bed and tearing off his clothes to force them back to safer territory. Before she could decide on a course of action, David was leading her toward her dressing room.
“It will have to wait until we get back. I am determined to get you out of this house.”
Pulling her hand out of his grasp, Regina clutched the skirt of her gown with anxious fingers. “But … why?”
He turned to face her, his expression incredulous. “Why not? When was the last time you left this house for any reason that wasn’t an errand or related to your inheritance?”
“I’m in mourning.”
“So am I.”
“You are a man.”
“Yes, but you’re hardly ever seen about the county. My sisters even told me they didn’t know what you looked like … only that you had red hair.”
Regina snorted. “That’s usually enough to give me away.”
“Not where I’m taking you. I promise, no one from our circles will be nearby. Trust me.”
He was holding his hand out to her again, patient but resolute. Regina hardly knew what to make of all this, but could hardly refuse him. He seemed so pleased with himself, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. It occurred to her that their circumstances weren’t very dissimilar. While her financial future was secured by her inheritance, she was in mourning just as he was, and barred from socializing with others. He had also come to her most nights with exhaustion pulling at the corners of his mouth and furrows in his brow. She had seen the evidence of how hard he worked when they weren’t together, on the day she’d visited him at home. Between his daily labors and his evening visits to her, he must be exhausted and worn thin.
Regina did not fault him for wanting a respite. Even his visits to her would be considered work, an obligation he could not escape even if he wanted to. She didn’t want to examine too closely the idea of him thinking of bedding her as an obligation.
“Very well. Will you tell me where you’re taking me?”
“A place where we can indulge in a few hours of freedom from the worries of everyday life,” he hedged, lighting a lamp and holding it up to inspect the contents of her dressing room. He studied rows of dresses before selecting a plain, long-sleeved gown of forest green velvet. It had minimal trim and flounces, and would keep her warm with the added layer of the matching pelisse. “This should do nicely.”
“But, it isn’t black,” Regina protested, though she did not resist when he began helping her out of her nightgown.
“Which makes it the best disguise. Everyone would expect to see the Widow Hurst in black. Really, they wouldn’t expect to see you at all. Besides, we both know you only mourn Hurst due to propriety and not because you actually wish to. When was the last time you wore a gown that complimented your figure and coloring? When was the last time you enjoyed yourself?”
He fired these questions at her while easing a chemise over her head, then urging her to sit on a cushioned stool so he could help her into a pair of stockings. Watching as he went to one knee, Regina noticed he knew his way around a woman’s dressing room and clothing quite well. Not a surprising trait considering his secret profession.
“I cannot recall,” she murmured as he tied off one of her garters. “On either front. Randolph controlled every aspect of my life. He hated for me to call attention to myself, and if any man set eyes on me for longer than was seemly, it was always my fault. Eventually, I stopped accompanying him to parties and dinners and such. It was simply too difficult to figure out how to act in a way that would please him.”
David paused with one hand braced on her thigh, his gaze lifting to meet hers. Regina had expected to find pity in his eyes, but realized that he seemed more angered than anything else.
“What an insufferable ass he must have been.”
Her lips quivered with a suppressed laugh. It was refreshing to hear someone speak so baldly about Randolph, when no one else seemed to want to admit the truth. It was uncouth to speak ill of the dead, but just now it felt good to have someone share in her feelings.
“Yes,” she said with a little giggle. “Hewasan insufferable ass. I … I am glad he’s gone.”
“So am I, for your sake,” David remarked, going back to his work. A pair of boots followed the stockings, which he tied with swift, deft movements. “I have a hard time imagining that a man could have a wife as sweet and lovely as you and not want to flaunt her like the jewel she is.”
