He watched her bosom rise and fall.
His anger seeped away.
She wore a pale yellow carriage dress trimmed with green. Under the bonnet’s brim, dark gold curls danced by her ears. Adderwood had called her a peach, and that was more than apt. The warm glow pinkening her cheeks made them seem like sun-kissed peaches, and her soft lips glistened.
If she hadn’t been the daughter of the only man in the world for whom he’d lay down his life, the Duke of Marchmont might have tried to find out exactly how innocent she was.
But she was Lexham’s daughter, and in a snit about something, and all in all, perhaps it would be wisest simply to humor her.
“I’m shocked, deeply shocked, that no one’s told you,” he said. “I am not intelligent. You had better explain carefully. And try not to use any big words.”
She shot him one of her sidelong glances, a flash of blue suspicion.
“Ask your father,” he said. “I’m surprised he didn’t warn you what a thickhead I am. I’m sure he’s mentioned it to me many times.”
“He did tell me so,” she said. “He told me not to expect too much.”
“Ouch,” he said. “‘A hit, a very palpable hit.’”
She rolled her eyes. “I see how it is,” she said. “No matter. Some things even you can understand. I need clothes.”
“You do? Has my thick brain somehow overlooked the fact that you’re naked?”
“Nottheseclothes,” she said, drawing her hand down the front of the dress in the most provocative manner. “This islastyear’s dress!”
“How appalling. You must take it off immediately.”
“Is that a dare?” she said.
He had replied without thinking. Now images from the past crowded into his mind: Zoe challenging and taunting her brothers, Zoe taking every “you mustn’t” and “you oughtn’t” and “you can’t” and “you wouldn’t” as a challenge or taunt.
What he’d jestingly suggested was a dare of the first order. For a lady to take off her dress in public was not merely unthinkably improper; it was practically impossible. Undoing the numerous and complicated fastenings—which were located for the convenience of the maid, not the mistress—would require the agility of an acrobat and a contortionist combined. No lady would get far unaided.
On the other hand, this was Zoe. She’d find a way to do it or die trying. And the process of her finding a way to do it was bound to be entertaining.
The temptation to dare her was almost overpowering.
But he collected his wits and said, “No, it was a joke.”
“This dress is no joke to me,” she said. “I shall get no respect in Society if I dress like a dowd. My attire must be in the latest mode. I should not have to explain this to you. You told me about Beau Brummell. Even my sisters admit you are fashionable, though it kills them to say so. And I can see it for myself: your dress tells me that you understand these matters.”
He said, “Actually, I leave it to my valet Hoare to understand.”
“And does Hoare go to the tailor to choose your garments as well?”
“No, I go to the tailor, but I leave the decisions to him,” he said. “He knows I don’t care. Still, any tailor would know that if he dresses me badly, his reputation will suffer and he’ll lose custom.”
This seemed to give her pause.
He watched her ponder, and something in her expression made him imagine her mind working, absorbing the few sentences he’d uttered, and filing the knowledge away for future reference. He pictured her mind as a miniature of London’s General Post Office, filled with lines of workers at the long benches, neatly filing letters into their proper slots.
“Do you mean to have your valet ordermyclothes?” she said.
“No.”
“Did you mean to leave the ordering of my wardrobe to my sisters?”
“Gad, no.”
