“I imagine she said a great deal more than that,” I muttered, then added, “but we need to gather our things and our drivers if you can spare it.”
“Of course. I can send Jacob now if you can give me direction.”
“That would be much appreciated. It’s about three miles north of Gonerby. Just shy of the main turnoff. The drivers are Alfie and Rory, and no, I cannot explain the state of the carriage or drivers.”
“Are you in danger?” he asked, trepidation in his tone.
“Not physically,” I said, dragging a hand through my hair before remembering the caked mud that fell like grotesque snow about my person.
“Ah, wives’ll do that to you.” He clapped me on the shoulder, then stomped back down the stairs, presumably to give his farmhand the directions.
“Kit?” A tentative voice called through the door.
I slipped back into the room and found Davina silhouetted in the afternoon sunlight wearing only a chemise.
I was bound for hell, or perhaps already in it. That was the only explanation for the torture before me. Sheer white fabric clung desperately to every curve, the light peering into the room ensuring that every elegant line was illustrated in perfect clarity.
Today’s fashions may not have been shy about a low-cut bust, but ladies’ legs were left a complete mystery. Until now. Long and lithe and meeting in a place I had absolutely no right to consider.
“Can you help with the corset again?” she asked, tone meek.
I could only nod, fearing my voice would break the way it had when I was a lad.
She tugged it up and over her chest before I had the time to devote to its study. Her haste was a travesty I could not give voice to. Then she spun, offering me her back.
Her curls were wet and clung to her back desperately. Wordlessly, she tugged them over her shoulder, leaving nothing but soaking white linen pressed to her skin.
Carefully, I tugged the laces the way she’d shown me, trying not to brush against the threadbare chemise. I felt a blush wash over my cheeks and up to the tips of my ears. My breath was harsh and uneven against her skin, but I managed to sort out the laces properly.
“Do you need help with the dress as well?”
“No, it buttons at the front,” she explained, then stepped into it and twisted the buttons into place. She smoothed her hands down the front before turning to me with an expectant look.
For a few seconds, I was able to restrain the laugh. But once it escaped, I was done for. The dress sat at least six inches above the hem of her chemise. From there, it fit well enough until it hither chest where it hung loose and sad. It would only sit on one shoulder at a time, the other falling free.
Her affronted expression melted away when she turned to the mirror and collapsed into giggles of her own. “It seems what I lack in bust, I compensate for in height.”
Privately, I had never seen anything lacking in her bust, but she wasn’t actually my wife, and it wouldn’t do to give voice to the thought.
“I cannot wear this,” she added.
“Sydney has sent one of his hands to meet the carriage with the wagon. They’ll be back within the hour.”
“I cannot go downstairs dressed this way. Your sister already hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“She certainly doesn’t like me. And her opinion won’t be improved if I show her husband and children my underthings.”
“Well, you’re not wrong about that.”
“I’m staying here until our things arrive,” she insisted.
I sighed and ran a hand through my filthy curls before remembering my state again. “Davina, I need a bath. The mud is beginning to itch.”
“I’m not stopping you. I’m simply not leaving this room.”
She was actually trying to kill me. It was the only explanation. “I cannot bathe with you in here.”
