Erotic images raced through the duke’s head: Frances panting as he returned her passionate kisses, laying back with her skirt wreathed about her waist, writhing and moaning as his lips and tongue brought her to ecstasy, and then clinging to him in pleasured surprise as he filled her narrow channel for the first time. They might even have a child from their union…
That thought jolted Ambrose back to the present and the reality of the child skipping along at his side while humming a happy song. He shook his head, as if to dislodge the presently impossible fantasies. There was likely a very long road to travel yet before he and Frances could realize such enjoyments as these.
Now approaching the corridor where both the duke and duchess’s rooms lay, Ambrose detached himself from Winifred.
“You must run ahead now and knock on the door to make sure that Duchess Frances is ready for visitors.”
Nodding eagerly, she raced down the corridor and banged on the door with great enthusiasm before blurting out all that she wanted to say in once long stream.
“Duchess Frances! It’s me, Winifred. Can I come in and help choose your jewelry now and I’ve brought Papa with me too and he says he’s a gentleman and I have to tell you…”
Ambrose could not help smiling although he also felt a twinge of self-consciousness. He walked slowly after his daughter, giving Nettie time to open the dressing room door and admit the child before he caught up.
“May I come in, Frances?” he called, stopping before he reached the half open door.
Inside, Winifred giggled and he heard her footsteps running back across the room. Flinging the door wide, she seized his hand again and pulled him over the threshold.
“Come in, silly Papa. I already told Duchess Frances that you had a present for her.”
Ambrose saw Frances first in the looking glass where she sat at her dressing table, and the sight of her took his breath away.
Tonight his duchess wore a deep blue silk, matched by those familiar sapphire hairpins. Ambrose remembered taking them from her silken hair in the library and all that had followed, his mouth running dry at her half-covered bosom in its low-cut bodice and longing to cover her perfect breasts with his kisses all over again.
“You look very beautiful, Frances,” he told her with a formal bow of his head that he hoped hid his more animal reaction to her. “I will be lucky to have you on my arm tonight.”
“You look very handsome too, Papa,” insisted Winifred, gazing delightedly between the pair of them. “Doesn’t he, Duchess Frances? Isn’t my papa the most handsome man in the world?”
The ghost of a smile on Frances’ face broke through into a happy laugh as she turned in her seat to face them both.
“Yes, Winnie. Your father looks very handsome indeed. I am lucky to be going to the ball with such a partner, am I not?”
Her words pleased Ambrose more than he expected, and he found himself hoping that she meant them. Had he taken more care than usual before the looking glass for this first ball together with his new wife, taking suggestions from his valet that he more often refused? Judging by the neatness of his stock and the sparkle of his polished silver cufflinks, perhaps he had.
“I wish I could watch you dancing together,” Winifred sighed rather mournfully. “But I must eat my supper and go to bed at eight o’ clock.”
Impulsively, Ambrose went to Frances’ side and extended a hand.
“May I have the honor of this dance?” he asked her, with a deeper bow that made Winifred giggle.
When Frances laughed too, the duke took her hand and drew her into his arms, humming a waltz tune as he swirled them about the dressing room, to Winnie’s great delight and amused glances from Nettie. Her body was as supple and alive in his arms as the first evening they had danced together at the Morgan ball.
Winnie clapped her hands when they stopped and Frances returned herself to her dressing table stool.
“You must dance every dance together,” she pronounced, “and tell me about it when you come home.”
“There is no other lady I wish to dance with,” Ambrose agreed with another bow of exaggerated gallantry for his giggling daughter.
“Well, not every dance,” Frances demurred, also enjoying the game. “Your papa must also dance with my sister Beatrice as it will be her first ball tonight, and perhaps my friend Lydia too. Then, sometimes we might both be tired.”
Now, Ambrose took the pearls from his pocket and presented the small packet to Frances.
“I bought them for you in London,” he told her. “You need not wear them tonight but I have been carrying them around too long.”
Winifred came to stand beside her stepmother as Frances unwrapped the pearls and held them up with a smile ofappreciation. Nettie too put down the clothes she had been folding and came to inspect the duke’s present.
“They’re very lovely,” Frances told him, her eyes and voice full of unexplained emotion. “Far finer than the pearls I have. Thank you. Still, tonight I promised Winnie that she could help choose my jewelry and I always keep my promises.”
“You should wear that and those,” Winnie said immediately, pointing to the new pearl necklace and earrings as though this answer was obvious.
