His shoulders seemed to relax, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “You wouldn’t have asked me to marry you otherwise. Am I right?”
“Of course, you are.” Frances sniffed.
“Do you have any idea how much that reminds me of Judith when you do that?”
“Do what?”
Nick stuck his nose in the air and sniffed.
Frances’s eyes widened, and she cried, “I don’t do that.”
“You just did,” he said with a snort. “I know you hate to be compared to her because she’s a high society lady, but you two are a lot alike.”
“We arenot.” Frances crossed her arms, her body flushing now in anger.
“You’re both strong-willed and opinionated.” Nick took a step toward her and continued. “You’re both smart and beautiful.” He gently clasped Frances’s shoulders. “You both care passionately about things. There’s nothing wrong with that. I admire strong women. I think it’s going to be fun to be married to one, even for a little while.”
His gaze went to her mouth. For a second, she wondered if he meant to kiss her again, but he shifted his gaze, dropped his hands, and stepped back.
“Well, thank you. I guess.” Frances rubbed her temple. Being married was confusing her and making her think of things she’d always disdained before. And his remark about her and Judith. Frances would have to make sure she didn’t do that ever again. “I’m going to get dressed for bed. I’m tired.”
She went to the chest of drawers where her helpful sisters had moved her clothing. Frances found something new inside, a negligee made of silk and lace. It had Maude’s beautiful stitch-work on it, but the lace along the low-cut neck must have been made by Doris. An unexpected rush of emotion washed through Frances as she stared at the beautiful garment her two sisters had so lovingly made for her in such a short time. They must have spent hours on it.
“Is everything all right?” Nick asked, coming to stand beside her. “Wow.” He shot her a quick sidelong glance and appeared to have a hard time swallowing. “You going to sleep inthat?”
“How can I not after my sisters went to so much trouble to make it for me?”
Nick made a funny noise that sounded an awful lot like a groan.
“Ihaveto.” Frances sighed. She wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly why he’d made the noise. He was finding her as attractive as she was finding him. That was unexpected, but it was too late now, and she sure wouldn’t have trusted Edgar Lowell in her bed. Nick had been the only option. “I’m sorry to have dragged you into this.”
“I’ll be fine.” He stepped back. “We might as well get all the hard things out of the way at once. Are you going to be able to undo those dress buttons by yourself?”
It was Frances’s turn to groan. Not once, while her sisters had helped her into it that morning, had Frances considered she couldn’t ask them to help her to undress. Not on her wedding night. It would have been a dead giveaway the marriage was a sham. The whole wedding thing was throwing her off. She was missing details she shouldn’t have. How was she ever to find a way to prove her uncle’s responsibility in Father’s death, if she was this distracted?
“No. I’ll need you to do it for me. Sorry again.”
Frances gently removed the negligee from the drawer and also took one of the shifts she wore under her church dresses. Then she turned her back to Nick so he could unbutton her dress. The only thing that made her feel better about the awkwardness of the situation was that his hands were shaking. He really was a good friend.
“I think you can get out of it now by yourself,” he said.
Holding the gown and her bundle to her chest, Frances hurried into the bathroom to change.
* * *
Fortunately for Nick,he’d already been in the habit of wearing pajamas to bed. With two sisters living at home, his father had insisted the boys not run around like some of the men did in the bunkhouse.
When Frances stepped out of the bathroom, Nick made sure not to look at her directly, but he couldn’t help watching her from the corner of his eye. Her sisters had chosen well with the color. The peach fabric of the negligee matched her skin. He hadn’t missed that she’d taken some other undergarment from the drawer, for which he was grateful. The added fabric underneath hid the sheerness of the silk and lace gown. Frances still looked stunning in it.
Nick took his clothing into the bathroom and cleaned up. He put on his robe and went into the bedroom.
Frances sat propped up against some pillows, blankets pulled up to her chest, reading a book. She didn’t look up, and Nick didn’t say anything until he’d gone to his side of the bed.
“What are you reading?” he asked, as he removed his robe and set it on a nearby chair.
“Sherlock Holmes.” Frances glanced up. When her gaze landed on his bare chest, her eyes went round, her mouth forming a circle. She looked down at the book in her lap, her cheeks the reddest he’d ever seen, even on a cold day working outside.
“The Return of Sherlock Holmes?” Nick asked, removing his own book from the top of the chest of drawers. He turned around and found her staring at him again, though she dropped her gaze. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her uncomfortable. He’d have to see if he could find a shirt comfortable enough to sleep in.
