The carriage took them home where they found three boxes from Lord Cotereigh’s modiste awaiting them.
Seven
To Sebastian’s irritation, itwas several days before he found time between the demands of his social obligations and managing his and his father’s affairs to pay a call at Lady Pemberthy’s.
It did mean, however, that there had been time for the modiste to deliver the first of the ordered outfits. As agreed with the proprietor of that establishment, a note confirming the delivery together with the bill had been sent to him. He paid it immediately, smiling faintly to himself while imagining the widow’s face as she pulled layers of tissue aside to reveal the satins and finery within.
She’d probably look angry. Her lip might curl. There’d be a resentful glitter in those sapphire eyes. This was the image he had in his mind as the aging retainer announced him with a ponderous bow straight out of the history books. Sebastian stepped around him, taking a step into the sitting room where he’d been shown, but checked his brisk entrance in surprise.
Mrs Ardingly was standing on the sideboard.
He wasn’t the only one who was startled. She glanced over her shoulder, saw him, and lost her balance, teetering preciously for a moment before she steadied herself, one palm pressed against the wall, the other dragging a paintbrush from where it had been clamped between her teeth.
She glared down at him—he’d made it across the room in an instant, ready to catch her—a great deal of ragged irritation at the edges of the large, steadying breath she took.
“What are you doing, startling me like that?”
“What areyoudoing, standing on the furniture?”
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people!”
“I was announced!”
Finding that argument unassailable, she turned back to the wall with a huff. “As is perfectly obvious, I am pasting this wallpaper back into place.”
“But why?”
“Because, as is also perfectly obvious, it has come loose.” She jerked the hanging flap in illustration.
“So get a servant to do it. It’s no task for you.”
“I’m quite capable.”
She was talking to the wall, her back turned to the room, to him. Or rather, he was addressing the backs of her knees, her thighs, her…rear. And she was in that faded blue dress again. All its many washings hadn’t only stolen its colour, they’d also made the fabric very thin.
He should probably be offended. This was no way for a lady to receive him, forcing him to crane his neck. But his heart was still racing from thinking she was going to fall. And the view she presented was distracting enough that he couldn’t immediately think up a retort.
She stooped to dip her brush into a glutinous jar of paste set on the sideboard by her feet, further defining her rear under that thin, thin fabric. He did not even attempt not to look.
“My arm,” she continued, reaching up again, entirely oblivious to the picture she made, “is not going to fall off at a few strokes of this brush.”
He eyed those strokes, the steady flick, flick of her wrist as she brushed the clear, sticky paste into place. His mind went to places it shouldn’t.
She went up on her tiptoes, straining to reach the top of the wall. Then, setting the brush between her teeth, she used both hands to ease the paper up, smoothing it into place with firm strokes.
“There,” she said, looking up at her handiwork in satisfaction.
Indeed. It was certainly up.
He took a step back as she stooped once more, putting the brush in its pot. Then she turned to face him, gathering her skirts in one hand, preparing to climb down. He did what he’d been struggling not to do and took her by the waist.
“What—” Her protest cut off as he lifted her down. Her waist was slim, with the firmness of muscle warm under his palms. He let go, but he didn’t step back. The sideboard was behind her. There were three inches between their chests.
“Sir.” Colour painted her cheeks, her expression furious. “I insist you never touch me again without my permission.”
He smiled slightly. “Very well. Next time I’ll ask.”
Her eyes widened with shock. She whirled herself away, slipping out of the small space between them and taking hasty steps down the room.
