Page 13 of The Gentleman's Seduction
“Sir, the coach is ready,” Mr. Harris announced.
“Go get your cloak.” He waved at the stairs, but she had anticipated him and was already on her way. She returned, cloak in hand and he helped her put it on.
“Thank you,” Livvy said, blushing before she followed Martin as they exited the house. His coach was painted blue and black, something she hadn’t noticed last night. Martin held out a hand, and she pressed her palm in his so he could help her into. Once they were seated, he took a cane that was tucked into the corner of his seat and rapped it on the roof of the coach. Their driver jerked the horses into motion.
“You’re truly going to buy me a new wardrobe?”
“Yes. It was one of your conditions, as I recall. I am a man of honor, despite what you might think.” Martin’s gaze was focused on the street outside the window, but she had the sense he was assuring her once again that he would not force her to do anything, in bed or out, while she was with him. For a brief moment she wondered if perhaps he was not altogether a villain like she believed, but was perhaps a good man trying desperately to be bad because he felt he needed vengeance.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“My pleasure. I believe in a fair exchange, and your requests were quite reasonable.”
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she would be happy to add a few new dresses, perhaps a thicker cloak, and stockings that weren’t so threadbare.
She and Martin didn’t speak for the rest of the ride. She had questions, but she didn’t ask a single one. When they reached Bond Street, Martin helped her out of the coach and gave instructions to the driver to return in three hours. Then he offered her his arm. Livvy slipped her hand around his sleeve, walking carefully on the icy sidewalk. The chilly wind made her wince, but she knew that they would soon be inside.
“Here we are.” Martin stopped at an expensive-looking modiste’s shop with a name she recognized.
“Mrs. Benson is a fine dressmaker. Too fine for me!” she protested. A few shoppers passing by stared at Livvy. Martin merely pursed his lips and opened the door for her. A blush flamed her face, but she entered the shop and he followed behind her.
The interior of the shop was cozy, warm, and illuminated with dozens of lamps, which accented the bolts of expensive silks and colorful muslins. A lovely woman in a dark-blue dress emerged from the back room and smiled when she saw them.
“Mr. Banks! What a pleasure to see you again.”
Martin’s grim expression faded at the dressmaker’s genuine smile.
“Mrs. Benson, it has been too long.” There was an intimate familiarity in his gaze, not one of love, but of friendship. The woman turned her attention to Livvy.
“And who is this young lady?”
“Miss Hartwell.” He did not elaborate further, but Livvy swallowed a wave of shame as she faced the modiste.
“I see.” Mrs. Benson’s tone wasn’t disapproving, but crisp, as though she was already thinking of the gowns Livvy would need. “The usual, Mr. Banks? Or perhaps a little something special?” Mrs. Benson walked in a circle around Livvy, eyeing her critically the way an artist would a blank canvas.
Martin stroked his chin. “Perhaps something special is in order. She’s not…like the others.”
Livvy closed her eyes for a moment, holding her tongue. Was that meant to be an insult or a compliment? She honestly didn’t wish to know.
“She certainly isn’t,” Mrs. Benson muttered as she came back to face Livvy, and her sudden but small smile was hidden from Martin, who stood behind her. “She’s lovely and innocent, and I imagine she’s sweet. The others were…not so much.” Mrs. Benson waved a hand at Martin. “Have a seat and let me find a few ready-made gowns that will suit her. Then, after we set her up with the necessities, we can plan a few custom gowns.”
“Excellent.” Martin passed by Livvy to sit in a chair by a trio of mirrors and a small raised platform. She knew she would soon be standing on the short dais, feeling Martin’s eyes roam over her body as he dressed her to his satisfaction.
“This way.” Mrs. Benson motioned for her to go behind a changing screen. She soon returned with several gowns of various colors.
“Let’s try a few of these. And I will get your measurements for the rest of the gowns.”
Livvy picked up the first gown on top of the pile Mrs. Benson had set before her. She sighed heavily. It was a lovely blue silk gown the color of a summer sky. She couldn’t help but swoon at the expensive clothes. There was nothing lovelier in the world than to feel the sweet slide of silk upon one’s skin or to twirl before a mirror as her netting overskirts sparkled in the candlelight. Every woman liked to feel beautiful, and Livvy was no different. The dresses here were far above those she would have chosen for herself. Expensive, finely made. She would even be able to keep them…as payment for being Martin’s kept woman.
The dreamy smile on her lips wilted. How was she going to get through this with her pride intact?
5
Martin leaned back in the chair, sipping the tea the shopgirl had brought him. He had sat in this chair on more than one occasion, watching his mistresses try on gowns, flashing saucy grins or batting their lashes, hoping for extra boots or kid gloves. He had smiled back and given in, buying the lady whatever she desired.
Mrs. Benson was right. This was different.
Livvy was innocent and sweet, but not a woman easily pushed. He liked that. He’d never been attracted to women who bowed and scraped in deference to men.
