Summerset.
Bloody hell.
“Would the duke like us to deliver hisoldclothing to the house along with his new wardrobe?”the overly excited tailor asked the duchess—Florentia.
She was commanding in such a way that no one could dispute her or take their eyes off her.Tavish was finding it hard to ignore the woman.Beautiful, confident, she held herself different than any other woman he’d ever met.Florentia didn’t seem to really care about anyone’s feelings, and she knew her own mind.It was an attractive trait in a woman.One he’d rarely ever seen, but now he couldn’t get enough of it.
“No, burn them, give them away, I could not care less.”She waved her fingers in the air like his clothing was rubbish.“He has no need for them.”
“The duke is right here and is capable of answering for himself, Princess,” he told her, pivoting away from the mirror.
He didn’t recognize himself.He looked more like his brother Declan than the bare-knuckle boxer he was.His da had always tried to teach him the ways of a gentleman, but Tavish would rather fight, or do anything else, rather than dress in a hot cravat.
He pulled at the cloth that felt like it was strangling him, wishing he was still wearing his simple shirt and trousers.
He was dressed rather smartly in a black coat, brown breeches, a gold waistcoat, and shiny black Hessians.Apparently, every gentleman had a pair.A new greatcoat, top hat, and cane were also waiting for him.
“What would you like, Your Grace?”Florentia asked him sweetly.
He could hear the undertone of venom in her voice.A tone he noticed she used often whenever something or someone vexed her.In the last two hours, that had been Tavish.It was easy to admit to himself that he liked vexing her.Especially when her cheeks reddened to a pretty red, those green eyes vibrant and radiant.
“Send my old clothes back to Summerset House, please,” he addressed the tailor, who looked at him in slight shock before nodding his agreement.
Tavish had noticed that Florentia never said a kind word to a servant or anyone of lesser class.His mother had always instilled in him and his siblings to always be kind to those less fortunate than yourself.
“I’ll just need your signature for the bill, Your Grace, and I’ll have everything delivered to you in a few days’ time.”The tailor handed Tavish the accounting.
Looking it over, he tried not to balk at the total.Hughes had given him a ledger full of bank accounts, investments, and property, proving that Tavish was now a very wealthy man.It still did not feel particularly right for him to spend over four hundred pounds on clothes.
Signing his name, he bid the tailor farewell, before stopping at the door to take his newly purchased hat, coat, and cane from the eager assistant.
He felt ridiculous as he followed Florentia out of the shop into the brisk April day.
Heads turned as they began walking side by side.She slipped her arm through his, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe or think of anything but her little body next to his.It was impossible to ignore his attraction to the demanding, yet beautiful woman who had the unfortunate fate to be married to old Summerset.
“Now you look like a proper gentleman,” she said, leading him to the waiting carriage.
He scoffed at her.“I’m never going to be proper, but I think you like that about me,” he whispered the last part, enjoying the color that formed on her cheeks.
Tavish was glad he wasn’t the only one affected by this strange chaotic attraction they shared.He shamelessly flirted with her the entire carriage ride to the tailor’s, just so he could watch that delicious blush trail down her long neck.
“I don’t like you at all.”Her gaze flicked down his body, before she discreetly licked her bottom lip, or so she thought, but Tavish had seen her.
He would question his sanity if he didn’t enjoy it so damn much.After he’d returned home from a night with his family, all he could think about was her naked body dripping wet in front of him.An inconvenience since they were staying in the same house, breathing the same air.
“Sure, you don’t?”he teased, enjoying the way she rolled those pretty green eyes of hers.“Would you like to stop to purchase something for yourself?”he asked as they reached the carriage, the coachman waiting patiently for them to return.
“What?”She stopped in front of the coach, nearly stumbling forward.
This beautiful, young, vibrant woman had never been cared for by anyone.Something broke inside of Tavish at her reaction.It was like no one had ever asked her if she wanted anything.She had to demand respect, a mask to hide behind her shield of indifference.
His hand touched her lower back, pressing firmly.He wanted her to know that he’d take care of her, that he would always take care of her.
“Would you like to stop at the modiste’s?”He lowered his voice, bending slightly so that she could hear him through the noise surrounding them.
Around them, members of society passed by their eyes on the two of them, their hushed whispers difficult to hear through the pounding of his own heart.
Her scent was sharp and refreshing, just like her.Oranges and a hint of lemon.He wanted to explore every single part of her body.
