Was it such a strange thing to realize that Rose was not used to having dresses made for her in this way? And to admit how much she liked it?
All her life, it was Marianne who was gifted these things – always at Rose’s insistence. Rose was happy to wear old-style gowns, those that belonged to her mother, knowing that Marianne was the one who deserved new dresses. And while she had always loved to see the look on her sister’s face when they went shopping like this… she was very much liking the feeling of, for once, being taken care of.
“No,” she said carefully. “That all sounds right.”
“Perfect.” Christopher clapped his hands together. “Let us try another color.”
“Another?” Rose gasped.
“Of course.” He rose suddenly from his chair and went to her. There, he took her by the hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. Rose’s eyes widened at the gesture, and she nearly yanked her hair away. “For my beautiful wife, nothing is off limits.”
Her cheeks burned, as did the spot where his lips had kissed her hand. Her stomach, too, flipped, and dammit if her heart wasn’t racing.
In any other circumstances, Rose might have gushed at the way her husband was behaving. And she would have certainly started to wonder if, despite how things had started, they were changing, and that she might want to change with it.
However, it was just then that she saw the modiste over the Duke’s shoulder. She was beaming at the two of them, swept up in the display of love that the Duke was showing for his wife.
Rose’s face dropped, and she turned back to look at her reflection. “Yes, another color. Why not at this stage?”
The morning had started well.
Rose and Christopher were still a little awkward around one another, and there was still that sense that they were trying tofigure each other out. She did not know him at all, but after the previous evening, Rose was excited for the chance.
At the very least, she was curious. She had started to see another side of her husband last evening and wanted to find out more.
For a time there, it looked to be working. They rode a carriage together into London, and while the conversation was polite and even easy, there was still a wall between them. Christopher was careful to laugh around her, to even smile, and whenever she sensed he was starting to relax, he would pull himself back.
That was until they walked into the modiste’s store, at which point, he transformed entirely.
“Is my wife not the most beautiful creature you have ever seen?” he asked the modiste as she collected some color samples for them.
“Oh, yes, Your Grace,” the modiste agreed.
“And aren’t I the luckiest man in the world?”
“The luckiest.”
Rose looked into the mirror, finding the Duke in the reflection. She narrowed her eyes at him, careful that only he might see. And while he did see it, he continued to smile pleasantly as if nothing was the matter.
He was putting on a performance, and it was just so obvious.
One thing that Rose was starting to understand about her husband, above all else, was how much he prized how people saw him. That was why he was constantly careful to keep his emotions in check, and that was why he was acting this way now. It was not the real him.
“After this, I think we will go jewelry shopping.” He was standing right behind her, and he took a step closer so that he was right on her shoulder.
“Oh…” She tried to laugh it off. “That really is not –”
“We are going jewelry shopping,” he spoke over her and took a final step closer so that his body was against hers. Then his hands found her shoulders, and he looked at her in the reflection. “It’s a big ask to find a piece that matches even a fragment of your beauty, but we can at least try, no?”
From across the room, Rose heard the modiste gush.
“Yes,” Rose said carefully, narrowing her eyes at him in the reflection. “We can try.”
Rose liked that her husband was trying harder. She liked that he wanted to buy her things and take her to a ball and treat her as if she were more than an imposition. They were married; this was her life from now on, so why not embrace it?
What she did not like was the falsity of it all.
There was more to her husband, and she knew that now. There was a side to him that she had seen yesterday, one that she liked, and one that she wanted to get to know better. But until he stopped caring what others thought, and until he could be real with her, she might never see it again.
