Severin’s temples tightened as he contemplated the pitfalls ahead. Then again, when had anything in his life been easy? Nothing had been given to him without a fight.
“Order the device,” he said brusquely. “Have it set up in one of the empty warehouses and use discretion. I do not wish for word of the machine to leak until I have done a trial run.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” Dutton said. “If there is nothing else…”
Dismissing the man of business, Severin went to stare broodingly out the window. He was literally standing at the height of success, and he ought to be content. But he wasn’t. He felt isolated…alone. In and of itself, this was not unusual. What was unusual was that it bothered him.
Severin became aware of the craving he had been keeping at bay for the past two days. He hadn’t felt right going to his wife’s bed when he was brooding over another woman. Yet now as his rumination over Imogen subsided, he realized how much he’d missed Fancy, spending time with her even if they were just talking.
While he hadn’t knocked on her bedchamber door, she hadn’t knocked on his either. He thought that she was probably tired. Aunt Esther had been keeping her busy with shopping expeditions, elocution lessons, and the like. The old dragon had even cornered him on his way out this morning to pay Fancy a compliment.
Francesca has a long way to go, Knighton, no doubt about that,Aunt Esther had said.Nonetheless, there is no lack of effort on the gel’s part. She is determined to become a proper duchess and to do you and the family name proud.
It might not sound like a glowing compliment. From Aunt Esther, however, this was nothing short of an accolade. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that Fancy was managing to win over his prickly aunt: his wife’s warm and cheerful manner would please anyone but the most dyed-in-the-wool ogre.
Severin hungered for a taste of Fancy’s sweetness and that feeling of closeness that had begun to grow between them. Now that his head was clear and his mood had passed, he could go to her without feeling like a bastard. A sudden inspiration struck him. He decided to make a stop on the way home to pick up a gift for his wife. Such a tribute was long overdue, and he couldn’t wait to see Fancy’s reaction when he gave her his surprise.
After her bath that evening, Fancy sat at her dressing table while her new lady’s maid Gemma combed out her hair. Mrs. Treadwell had lined up three applicants for Fancy to interview today; Fancy had hired Gemma on the spot when the other expertly styled her hair into a coiffure that even Aunt Esther deemed acceptable. Resourceful and discreet, the little blonde maid was a fount of information about the latest fashions, having worked with many ladies of quality in the past.
When the knock sounded on the door between her and Knight’s bedchamber, Fancy gave a start of surprise. Given Knight’s absence the past two nights, she hadn’t expected him to pay her a visit.
Gemma gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Shall I get the door, Your Grace?”
“Yes. No. Wait.” Fancy hurriedly inspected herself in the mirror. “’Ow do I look?”
“Beautiful, Your Grace.” There was a twinkle in Gemma’s eyes. “The new nightgown suits you ever so well.”
The matching negligee and peignoir had been amongst the first of the items to arrive from the modiste and were unlike anything Fancy had owned or worn before. At the fitting, Madame Rousseau had assured her that this design was all the rage in Paris and a favorite of aristocratic clients andespeciallytheir husbands. Indeed, the dressmaker had said with a secret smile, she always encouraged clients to order duplicates. Although Fancy didn’t see why she would need two of the expensive negligees—she made it a habit to take good care of her clothing—she’d nonetheless put herself completely in the modiste’s hands.
Madame had constructed the negligee and peignoir out of fine ivory silk, the clever cut designed to show off Fancy’s curves. Both garments were trimmed with bronze ribbon, and the back of the peignoir was embroidered with a Chinoiserie scene in matching bronze thread. The workmanship was flawless. In Fancy’s estimation, Madame’s genius lay in her ability to create garments that were simple yet extraordinarily flattering.
As Fancy looked into the mirror now, her confidence grew. There was a reason she was wearing her new garments tonight: she had decided that if Knight wasn’t going to come to her,shewould go to him, even though Aunt Esther would likely disapprove of her plan.
You mustn’t be so eager to please, Francesca,Esther had lectured during today’s lesson in etiquette.In our world, being too accommodating is considered bourgeois. You are not a puppy to do as its master commands. A true lady knows her worth—and knows she is worth the trouble. Do you understand?
Fancy did, yet spending two nights apart from Knight was enough in her opinion. He’d given her permission to open the door whenever she wanted, hadn’t he? At supper tonight, he’d seemed less remote and more like his old self before that scene with Imogen. Fancy had resolved to take the bull by the horns and go to him that evening and thus the pains she’d taken with her toilette.
When Knight’s imperious knock sounded again, happiness and relief swirled through Fancy. If he was taking the initiative, then maybe he’d missed her too.
“Please let ’Is Grace in,” she told her waiting maid. “Then you may go.”
As Gemma did as she bade, Fancy rose and nervously adjusted the belt of her robe. The slide of silk against her skin felt different from her old flannel. It made her feel more sensual…more daring. She wondered what her husband would think of her new attire.
She didn’t have long to wait. Dressed in his black dressing gown, Knight prowled toward her, the glint in his eyes turning predatory as he took her in. His male hunger was unmistakable, filling the room, making her heart knock against her ribs. Some age-old instinct made her retreat a step, the back of her legs hitting the dressing table, rattling the contents on its surface.
He stopped a hairsbreadth away.
Staring down at her, he murmured, “What are you wearing,chérie?”
“It’s part o’ my new wardrobe,” she said. “Do you, um, like it?”
“I cannot say for certain.” As her heart plummeted, he lifted a hand, running a finger down the slope of her shoulder. “Not until you show me the rest, hmm?”
Emboldened by his sensual demand, she undid the belt of the peignoir and shrugged it off. It cascaded down her body, pooling at her feet. The negligee was held up by thin straps, an elegant column that bared her shoulders and dipped in the front to show the shadowed crevice between her breasts. The silk flowed downward, loose but not billowing, skimming over her curves. She felt her husband’s smoldering gaze rake over her. Her nipples stiffened to hard points visible against the silk.
“What do you think now?” she dared to ask.
“I think,” he said, a growly edge to his voice, “that you look good enough to eat. As it happens, I have not yet had my dessert.”
