“What do you think of this gown, dearest?” Lucy leaned closer to him. They sat side by side on the sofa in her sitting room, having finished the fine meal Cook sent up for them. Lucy pointed to a sketch of a gown in her copy ofLa Belle Assemblée. “This style is a bit bolder than any I’ve worn before, but I’m a married woman now, so I’m permitted more options.”
Reed didn’t know much about ladies’ fashions and couldn’t say what exactly was different about the gown she pointed out from those she’d worn before. “I think it’s lovely.”
“So do I.”
He adored the way her eyes danced about when she was excited. Society had such a dampening effect on the natural exuberance of a debutante. He’d seen that in her face whenthey’d been introduced. She was bubbling over with life and enthusiasm. He’d known from that moment on that he simply had to know her better—that the lady behind those dancing eyes was worth the aggravation of endless social calls and balls and trips to the theater.
“And, thank the heavens, I am no longer confined to pastels.” Lucy groaned dramatically, as if her previous color palette had been a most excruciating form of torture. “I have decided I absolutely must have a dress in a vibrant shade of blue.”
Reed nodded his approval. Though he knew little about fashion, his lovely wife already had a dressing gown of blue. When she wore that shade, her eyes looked like sapphires, and her hair shone like gold.
“I am sorely tempted to buy myself a matching silk turban with a very tall feather to wear at balls,” she declared firmly.
“Good gracious, no.”
His immediate objection brought a wide-eyed look of surprise to her face.
“Darling,” he said. “Only the oldest and dreariest of matrons wear feathered turbans.”
“Doesn’t your mother wear one?”
“Yes, which is—” He stopped short at the overly innocent look in her eyes. She was funning him, the little minx. Two could play at that game. “Which is, come to think of it, actually a very convincing argument. A feathered turban, yes, but don’t neglect a powdered wig to complete the ensemble.”
Her smile spread until her dimples reappeared. “A powdered wig for you as well, my dear. And knee breeches and heeled dancing slippers with great gold buckles.”
“And shall I sport yards and yards of lace as well?” he asked.
“Of course.” She looked ready to burst with laughter. “We will be quite the fashionable couple amongst the older set.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. “As much as I complain about the ridiculously close cut of today’s jackets and the tedious nature of having my cravat tied in the latest style, I do not for one moment wish to trade that for the cumbersome fashions of our parents’ generation.”
Lucy set her magazine on the seat beside her and shifted so she knelt on the cushion facing him. She reached up and touched his face. “Even in the most ridiculous fashions, you would be the most handsome gentleman I’ve ever known.”
“Flattery, my love?”
“I speak only the truth,” she said, repeating the declaration he’d made in the carriage earlier. Her teasing tone indicated she’d chosen the response on purpose.
Reed kissed her well and deeply before pulling her fully into his arms. Yes, a Season spent quietly at home, away from the hustle and bustle of Society. Just the two of them. The perfect London Season.
Chapter Two
“Reed.” Lucy stood in the doorway of Reed’s bedchamber, looking with dismay on her husband in his shirtsleeves, his cravat tossed aside, and his feet shoeless. “You cannot go out dressed the way you are.”
Though none of her new, fashionable gowns had arrived from themodiste, she had chosen the most modish of her older gowns to wear that night. Her abigail had threaded ribbons through her hair and quite artfully tucked tiny white flowers throughout. And Lucy had chosen to wear the amber necklace Reed had given her at Christmas. She’d taken great pains in her preparations, and there Reed sat in his shirtsleeves.
He kept his gaze on the paper held unfolded in front of him. “I mean to stay in tonight.”
Lucy stepped inside. Surely Reed was teasing. He’d required prodding each evening since their arrival in London, but tonight was different. They were scheduled to attend the Parvells’ ball, the event at which they had first been introduced the yearbefore. On that night a year earlier, she’d arrived nervous and unsettled, so afraid of spending the evening as a wallflower. But then she’d met him, and everything in both of their lives had changed for the better. The Parvells’ ball would always be special to the two of them.
“Tonight is theParvells’ ball, dearest,” she reminded him.
“We have been out every evening this week,” he said. “I am too weary to go out again.”
They had indeed attended several functions over the past few nights, but Reed had insisted on returning home long before the events were over. They’d not been out late; neither had they attended more than one function in any given evening. Furthermore, he’d spent the day at his club. How could he be too tired for a ball, especiallythisone? This was their special anniversary.
“We replied to the invitation already, Reed. The Parvells are expecting us.”
“The ball will be exceptionally crowded.” He turned a page of the paper, slumping down in his chair a little more. He was the very picture of a gentleman settling in for a long, leisurely read. “The Parvells will not notice our absence, nor will they care.”
