I tucked my hat and wig in the trunk before I set the dress across from me and gathered the necessary accessories, plopping them on the vacated rear facing seat. Then came the trickier bit. A glance at Mr. Summers confirmed that he was still demonstrating his gentlemanly qualities and his face was well hidden by the coat.
Removing everything was easy, if nerve-racking, until I reached the bandaging pressing against my breasts. That was a bit more challenging but not impossible.
I managed to don chemise and stockings with relative ease as well, only knocking into his coat with an arm or elbow twice.
Then I came upon the first significant obstacle. While Cee had spent years espousing the benefits of half staysà laparesseuse, of course I hadn’t listened. And across from me lay the evidence of it. My everyday corset—the one that laced entirely in the back.
With the quietest sigh I could muster, I slipped it overhead and settled the straps into place. Simple. Then I reached back to grab the lacings and that was where everything went wrong.
My elbow met something hard and linen-covered and a grunt broke from Mr. Summers’ chest.
“I’m sorry!”
“It’s no matter,” he wheezed—rib cage then.
I tried again, reaching with the other arm. That time, my elbow met with the carriage wall, finding that peculiar spot that always hurt more than it ought to have. Biting back a curse, I caught the lacings and pulled.
One tug and I recognized the calamity I’d caused. I hadn’t found the loose lacing, instead finding one in the middle that should have remained in place. The corset tightened awkwardlyaround my belly, loosening around my waist and bust.Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
“Mr. Summers?”
“Yes?” Weariness clung about the word, as though he knew precisely what I was about to ask and he was already dreading it.
“I require your assistance. If you would be so kind?”
I heard him swallow before he replied. “How indecent are you?”
“I’m still more undressed than any other woman you’ve shared a carriage with,” I quipped, earning a chuckle.
The coffee-colored curls appeared first as he studiously faced the window while he moved around the coat. Carefully, he tucked it along the seam between the loose door and the carriage, cloaking us in shadows and hair-thin sunbeams.
His shoulders were surprisingly broad under that coat. I’d once spent the better part of an evening staring at the back of him. Though I hadn’t known it was his back at the time. Those shoulders hadn’t looked likethatat the time. I would have remembered the sharp blade edge and tight curve.
Task finished, he turned warily, gaze firmly planted on his lap.
“Your vision may be required for this, I’m afraid.”
He inhaled sharply before lifting his gaze to me. There was an unreadable quality to his expression. None of his usual frown lingered. Instead his eyes felt ponderous, poignant. His lips were parted but only just. “Wh-What do you need?”
I shifted on the seat and offered him my back. “The lacings,” I whispered.
“How do I—where do I start?”
“At the top.”
A soft, ghosting breath teased my loose curls, brushing them along the back of my neck. My spine prickled. Heat radiated from the hands hovering likely no more than an inch or so frommy skin. I’d never been aware of anything the way I was of his not-quite-touch. But it wasn’t an unpleasant awareness.
And then, without warning, I felt a tentative tug at the lacing near the top. Then the corset narrowed at my bust. Finally, the familiar taught sensation settled along my ribs before he moved down another row.
“You can—a little tighter is fine.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped.
“It doesn’t hurt. A little tighter sits better, otherwise it will chafe.” He returned to the top and pulled the laces in to fit more snugly. “That’s better, thank you,” I added, a strange, inexplicable trill in my voice.
Row after row he tightened and finally reached the bottom. The tension was uneven, and it was looser than I usually wore it, but it would do.
“Now what?”
