“Speaking of which,” Mae said, glancing at the gift. “This may be more meddling still. She was deliberately evasive when I asked her what it was for.”
“Deliberately evasive is her default state,” he replied, giving in to temptation and letting his pinky flick out to spin the thimble. “What did she say?”
“She said it was a symbol of her confidence,” Mae replied. “And that I oughtn’t open it in public unless I wished to scandalize people.”
That gave him pause, his eyes flicking up at her with interest. “Oh? Well, now I must see it.”
She released a short little laugh, shaking her head. “That is funny. I think it was why I have been avoiding seeing it.”
“Feel free to borrow my strength,” he offered, spearing another bite of his dinner and gesturing toward the parcel. “Please.”
She gave him a look, just a little one, to let him know that he was ridiculous, and reached out for the gift, pulling it across the table and nudging her plate away so that she could remove the wrapping.
She held her breath even as she unveiled nothing more scandalous than a tasteful printed box and settled her hands on the lid, resolving that nothing inside could be as bad as the things she was imagining.
“I thought it might be a dress,” she confessed, pulling the lid away and stroking the tissue paper inside. “Even though the box is too small for that. But this is indeed from the modiste.”
“Intriguing,” he said. “Another ball gown for her scholarship ball?”
“In this little box?” Mae asked, her eyes twinkling as she peeked up at him, her hands already buried in layers of tissue. “Doubtful. How did you know she bought me a gown for that ball?”
He flashed her a smug showing of teeth. “What is it?”
She clicked her tongue, looking down as she pulled away the final barrier to answers.
She pulled out a delicate, glinting pool of golden satin edged with matching lace. Beneath it was a matching set of stays in identical golden silk, embroidered with pale blue details, wrought in fine whalebone and finished with glinting laces that looked to be woven with real fine metals.
“Good Lord,” Mae muttered, stroking her fingers over each item and glancing up at Roland just to ensure that her eyes were not playing tricks on her.
If anything, he looked more shocked than she was. He was openly gaping.
Mae blinked and looked back down at the box, finding a small handwritten note in the bottom.
Casper,
You admired this once in inferior cotton and drab blushing pink. I had it fashioned to your measurements and in suitable colors and fabric for a woman of your comport and complexion. Wear it well or I shall know.
Yours,
Vix
CHAPTER 19
“Mae,” said Roland, once he could get enough moisture into his mouth to speak. “Either put that away …”
She looked up at him, clearly still stunned by the bolt of watery silk slinking through her fingers like liquid gold. “What?”
“Or put it on,” he finished, the words grating hoarsely out of his throat.
She immediately colored, exhaling a little puff of scandalized air as the fabric slipped fully away from her grip and back into the box. “I couldn’t,” she whispered, fumbling for the lid. “Not here.”
“I will take you anywhere you want,” he assured her, watching with no small bereavement as the lid was smashed and jiggled back into place. “Anywhere.”
She cleared her throat, a nervous giggle escaping it as she shoved the box under the table like it had shouted obscenities at her, and shook her head. She looked at the empty space between their plates for a few moments, blinking in wonder, and touchedher lips. “Shedidtell me not to open it in mixed company,” she said, perhaps only to herself.
He was certain that usually, he would have had a quip to respond with, but just now all he could look at was the glow of her skin in the candlelight and the way the shadows caressed the shape of her throat and chest as she breathed.
Not here, she’d said.
