twenty-eight
Tristan fixed his white bow tie in the mirror again and straightened the silver forks on the table. Not that they needed to be straightened. Harris had made sure the silverware were each set at the perfect distance between each utensil and the plates.
Being alone in the dining room was a novelty. Usually, there were at least three or four people, even when he ate on his own. Harris and a footman would always stand next to him, ready to serve. But he’d promised Effie discretion. The table had been set before her arrival, and the food was warm and ready to be served.
He paced the entry hall until a knock on the door stopped him.
He wasn’t ready. Perhaps he should call the deal off and let Effie be free of him.
He opened the door and she swept into view, taking a shy step inside. His breath caught. Her capelet was open on the front, showing her Oxford blue gown. It had a plunging neckline and a fitted bodice that emphasised her curves and lovely eyes. The diamond studs on her lobes and silver silk slippers made her look like a spectacular winter starry night.
Everything about her was spectacular, from her luscious chestnut curls to the way the top of her breasts lifted with each breath. Her lips looked glossy and plump, and her cheeks showed a delicate blush he found irresistible.
She quietly entered and shut the door. “Good evening.” Her voice sounded small.
“Welcome.”
As they stared at each other, he’d never felt as small and insignificant as in that moment. She was all golden light and brightness while he belonged to the shadows.
“Follow me.” He led her into the dining room, with its soft candlelight and intimately set table.
She gazed around before tugging at her capelet. He rushed to help her and take the soft garment off her naked shoulders.
“Thank you.” She handed him her purse as well.
He didn’t know what the hell to do with them, so he laid everything on a stuffed chair, turning his back to her to collect himself. “I trust you didn’t have problems coming here.”
“Not at all.”
The swish of fabric came. He faced her again. “The soup— What the hell are you doing?”
She was unbuttoning her dress. The sleeves already sagged down her arms.
She stopped, staring at him with unblinking eyes. “I’m getting ready.”
“For what?”
“For…you know.” Her face flamed red.
“For hell’s sake.” He released a breath through his teeth. “I’m not an animal.”
He buttoned her up and pulled up her sleeves, making a mess. The satin was slippery, and the damn buttons were small and covered in silk. Not to mention that he caught a glimpse of her corset, which threw kerosene on the fire of his passion. If sheundressed in front of him, he would kiss her and send for the vicar to marry her.
“You don’t have to remove your gown.”
She frowned in concentration as she finished buttoning her gown. “I don’t understand.”
He stretched out an arm towards the lovely table. “I want to have dinner.”
“Before we go to your bedroom?”
“No.” He held a chair for her. “There will only be dinner tonight.”
Her frown deepened.
“I’m serious. Just dinner,” he repeated. “I’m not going to touch you.” As much as it pained him.
“I don’t understand.” She sat down, head tilted up to stare at him.
