Page 82 of The Duke’s Rejected Mate

“Please,” Charles scowls. “Don’t help me.”

“A thousand,” Emma cries out, turning to her husband, the Duke of Blackport. “A thousand pounds? Is that what I’m worth to you?”

He winces, but I pretend not to notice as I look to my own husband. “I agree. Is that what I’m worth? Seven thousand pounds?” The way he clears his throat and adjusts his cravat sends a thread of glee into my soul.

So glad you’re enjoying this, wife, he growls through the bond.

Just a lark, my dear husband. But you must admit you brought this on yourself.

Aye. That I did.

Shaking his head, he motions to the other women. “I believe this means the wives should enjoy a bit of shopping at some point. A thousand pounds apiece? Does that seem fair?”

We all rise in a chorus of laughs and cheers as we begin planning what we will do with all this money. The men merely shake their heads as they give us indulgent smiles.

“While the ladies decide on their bits and baubles,” Charles says. “Will you gentlemen join me in the study?”

There’s an odd note in his voice, something that makes me sit up and take notice. Through the bond, he sends a soothing wave of warmth and love until I relax once more.

“It’s a lovely thing, isn’t it?” Catherine sighs as she watches me. “Knowing our husbands can tame any worry before it catches hold with just a bit of love through the bond.” The others murmur in agreement.

Augusta fidgets a bit before she moves in a flurry of excitement. “What shall we all buy? I would like to find another set of cards that I might hide and my husband never find.”

The rest of us groan.

“So you plan to take even more of our coin then, is it?” Teresa says, laughter in her voice. “Should we just give all the money to you now?”

She taps her chin as she begins to think about it. “That does seem rather prudent, now that you mention it.”

“Not a chance,” Alessandra cries. “I have my heart set on some new music and bow for my violin. I will happily spend my thousand. Thank you kindly.”

I laugh and shake my head. “And you, Emma?” I ask, making sure to include her as well since she’s so fond of drifting into the shadows.

She gives us a small smile as red stains her cheeks. “I would rather like a new shift as well as some stockings.”

Catherine furrows her brows as she looks over at her. “Is my brother-in-law not keeping you in finery as a duchess should? William will have words if that is the case.”

“No,” she murmurs as she ducks her head. “I’ve seen a new bit of fabric that is… well…”

“Out with it,” Augusta insists. “It’s not as if you’re speaking to untried maids here. What is so alluring about this fabric? Perhaps we’d all like some of it.”

“I- Well-” she stammers. “A new modiste has come into town with some very daring fashions.”

“By daring,” Augusta playfully taunts, “do you mean it shows a bit of your ample chest? Or, heaven forbid, your claiming mark?”

At her words, a soft smile slips across my face as I graze my fingers across mine. Though still healing, I find it rather beautiful.

“No,” Emma sighs, her tone a bit brittle. “And there’s nothing wrong with being modest. This fabric is not to be worn where others can see.”

“Truly?” Catherine asks, leaning forward with interest. “Do tell.”

“It’s very transparent.”

We all gasp as we stare at Emma. For her to be so bold as to even think to purchase something like this as a surprise for her husband shows just how much she’s changed.

“I must procure a shift in this material as well,” Augusta says. “It will drive Benedict mad.”

“Same with Edward,” Alessandra agrees.