Page 102 of Madcap with a Marquess
The door popped open, and Rupert moved toward the door, then paused. He glanced back at her. “I spent nearly two decades resisting your attempts to show me how to enjoy life. I very much look forward to making up for them.”
Franny shuffled toward the door, her heart doing its own little shuffle in her chest. She very much looked forward to that, too. Rupert’s white-gloved hand waited to assist her down from the carriage. His other hand pressed against her back as her feet touched the ground. She noticed he was doing that more often lately. Always touching her, casual minute touches. A graze over her arm, a brush over her back, the back of his hand pressing against hers.
She dipped her chin and shot him a cheeky smile from beneath her lashes. “Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, low and breathy.
His hand tightened around hers, and Franny was pretty sure she heard him growl over the hubbub of the London street. She nearly giggled. She stepped forward—
And then was abruptly jerked back into her husband’s chest.Oooph!
His breath coasted over her neck. “When we get home,” he whispered, gooseflesh pebbling on her skin. “You will have five minutes to find yourself naked in my bed. And you will bemy lordingme in that exact tone.”
Franny shivered. Well, that sounded absolutely lovely. But she wouldn’t be Franny if she gave in so easily. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin, and she could tell he noted her defiance by the way he tensed behind her. “And if I don’t comply,my lord.”
“That’s your call, Franny. If you seek the sweetness of praise. Or the sting of punishment.”
He stepped away and strode toward the shop’s door. She swayed slightly, blinking at his solid back, the fabric straining with the light swing of his arms. Goodness, how was a woman to choose?
Franny shook herself from her stupor and hurried after him. Truly, it was an easy answer for her. From the beginning, she’d always loved being scolded by him.
She rejoined Rupert at the counter of the shop, where he spoke with a short curvaceous woman wrapped in shimmering gold silks.
“And this must be your lovely wife, my lord.” The woman turned to Franny. “I am Mrs. Bean, the modiste and owner of the shop.” Her eyes turned keen, and she roamed Franny from head to toe. Her lips curled. “Oh, we are going to have the most diverting time creating your wardrobe, my lady. There shan’t be a thing in this shop that doesn’t look exquisite on you.”
“As discussed, she needs new everything,” Rupert said. “Expense is a non-issue. Morning dresses, day dresses, riding habits.” Rupert paused and caught Franny’s eye. “I’d like her fitted for breeches as well.”
Franny grinned. Quick study, her husband.
The woman didn’t bat an eye. “It will be done. Are we including items of a more intimate nature as well?”
Rupert’s gaze never left Franny’s. “Yes. She will need an extensive collection of new items in that area.” His rich brown eyes darkened, pinned her in place with the promise glimmering in them.
Heat washed over Franny’s cheeks, and she lifted the back of her hand to her cheek, the warmth seeping through the kid-leather of her gloves. She hadn’t realized she could blush so thoroughly. But goodness, it should be a crime for a man to look at a woman like that in public.
And then he broke the spell and turned to the modiste. “Thank you, Mrs. Bean. And we will need a ball gown readied without delay.”
Franny frowned. A ball gown? She opened her mouth—
“Follow me please, Lord and Lady Rutledge,” Mrs. Bean said, turning and gracefully sashaying toward the back of the shop.
Rupert was already following, and Franny quickened her pace to catch up with him. “You’re staying for this? Don’t gentlemen usually—I don’t know—drink whisky or join in a game of cards or something while their womenfolk shop? Won’t you be horribly bored?”
And that was when the nearly complete absence of sound registered. The light chatter, the pad of footsteps, the swish of fabric and clatter of wares, gone. She glanced around the shop. Every patron stood stock still, staring at her and Rupert.
“That is why,” Rupert murmured low. “My mother’s seeds have taken root, as you can see.”
A woman on the far right of the shop leaned over to her friend, shielding her whisper behind her glove. Franny might not have been able to hear the words, but the judgment and disgust were evident in their narrowed eyes and turned-up noses.
She lifted her chin and shot them a cheeky smile and a wink. Their eyes widened and then they leaned closer, their furtive whispers increasing.Let them talk.
“Rupert, do you truly think I give a fig what these people think of me? I have lived over twenty years not caring. And that was regarding my own father’s poor opinion. I care even less about strangers’ opinions.”
Rupert halted abruptly, and Franny stumbled in her haste to stop. He turned toward her, and his finger went to her chin, pressing lightly, forcing her gaze to lock with his. “I have no doubt you can handle each and every one of the tongue-waggers in this shop, in a ballroom, in all of London. You are the strongest woman I have ever met, and I’d be a fool to think you need me to protect you. But that’s not the point. The point is, Franny,you no longer have to. It doesn’t matter that you are fully capable of doing so on your own. You will never face the world alone again. I will never leave you to fend for yourself again. I will always be there for you. In any capacity you need me.”
Her mouth popped open in a small “oh.” She swayed slightly toward him, and a grin flashed across his face before he quickly tucked it away.
His hand at her back, he guided her the rest of the way to the dressing area in the back of the shop. “Now, my love, let us get to your next surprise.”
Franny tried to glance over her shoulder at Rupert, but he hurried her forward. Her next surprise…? She stepped into the small hall where Mrs. Bean stood outside one of the dressing room doors.
