“Indeed,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. He didn’t lead her toward the carriage like she’d been expecting but entered a dressmaker’s shop across the road instead. Lyra was surprised to see Mrs. MacGregor there.
“I don’t just stand in as a witness to my husband’s ceremonies,” she said with a wink. “I’m the local seamstress.”
“I was hoping to purchase a few gowns for my lovely new bride before we return to England,” Alister murmured.
Lyra abruptly glanced down at her attire—and froze. It hadn’t even donned on her that she still wore her widow’s weeds. While they were the only dresses she’d had available, she couldn’t believe she’d gotten remarried dressed in that awful black bombazine. It was enough to make her feel sick.
Mrs. MacGregor didn’t seem to notice her reticence, for she answered Alister cheerfully, “I think I might just have one or two ready-made gowns that should fit your wife. If you will just follow me, my dear?”
Lyra’s steps were wooden as she fell into step behind the lady. But the moment she began to glance around, she felt as if she’d just fallen into a rainbow wonderland. For a small village, countless bolts of fabric were showcased all about the shop, from muslins to silks. She finally began to dream about wearing something other than black again. Considering she had just pledged herself to another man before her year of mourning had passed, a change in clothing wouldn’t make much of a difference at this point. Besides, why shouldn’t she indulge herself?
“Do you have a particular color you like best?” Mrs. MacGregor asked.
Lyra thought about her conversation with Alister in the carriage. “Something in blue, perhaps?”
Mrs. MacGregor nodded before walking over to a stack of clothes piled in a neat stack away from the rest. “It just so happens I have a velvet traveling gown in cerulean that one of my customers ordered a couple of days ago. She won’t be back in the village until the day after tomorrow, so that will give me plenty of time to make another.” She held it up for Lyra’s inspection. “What do you think?”
Feeling a sudden sting of tears behind her eyes, Lyra found it hard to speak. It had been so long a time since she had owned something so pretty. After her debut, Roger had never cared about showering her with expensive gifts and finery. Clearing her throat, she finally managed, “It’s lovely. You do amazing work, Mrs. MacGregor.”
The other woman laughed heartily. “Well, after raising eight bairns of my own, I’ve learned to sew fast and accurately.” She pointed to a covered corner. “There’s a privacy area over there to try it on. In the meantime, I’ll see what else I can dig up.”
A short time later, Lyra pushed back the curtain and found not only Mrs. MacGregor waiting for her, but Alister as well. “Oh, it fits perfectly! I doubt I’ll have to do any alteration at all.” As the seamstress circled her, Lyra dared to look at the man standing in front of her.
“I like the choice,” he said huskily.
His gaze seemed to devour her where she stood, and she realized that she’d pleased him. Surely that was a good sign to start off their marriage.
Afterward, Mrs. MacGregor wrapped up a pale pink, striped muslin and a crimson shawl. “Would you like me to wrap up the black bombazine as well?”
Lyra had decided to wear her new velvet for the trip back to London, but at the query, she shook her head. She yearned to tell the seamstress that she never wanted to set eyes on it again and that if she wished she could burn it, but she refrained. “Do with it as you wish. I don’t have any further use of it.”
Once Lyra and Alister were seated in the tilbury, he turned to whisper in her ear, the curve of his lips rather wicked in nature. “You are delectable in that gown. I can’t wait to remove it later.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Duke of ‘Not-So-All-Bright,’” she teased.
He dared to nip playfully at her earlobe. “You’ll regret that remark later tonight,” he growled.
With a voice that was slightly breathless, Lyra felt her earlier reservations fade as it was placed with renewed desire. “Oh, I certainly hope so.”
* * *
It wasn’t quite dusk by the time Alister pulled up into the front yard of the coaching inn at Castleford. The difference was that this time, he only procuredoneroom.
He had a brief conversation with the innkeeper where he used his true name and title. The man’s brows nearly lifted to his forehead, but he nodded emphatically and rushed off.
“What was that all about?” Lyra asked curiously.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Alister said with a promising wink. With that, he held out his arm to her and led her into a private dining area. With a single candle on the table between them, they feasted on roast pheasant and plum pudding. Lyra felt that the romantic air of the evening couldn’t have been more perfect for an upcoming wedding night.
Or so she thought.
The moment the innkeeper reappeared and nodded to Alister, her husband stood. “Shall we retire?”
I thought you’d never ask…She daintily wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Of course.”
Lyra’s heart was pounding in anticipation of what was to come, but the moment he opened the door to their room, she lost her ability to breathe. It seemed as if a hundred candles were lit in various places about the room. From the side table next to the bed, which was perfectly folded down, to the lip of the windowsill, it was a glowing paradise. A copper tub also sat in the corner where its steamy water was ready and waiting as the scent of roses perfumed the very air.
It was all so glorious—that she promptly burst into tears.
