Chapter 18

CHAPTER18

“Well, what do you think?” Dorothea brushed aside the vast velvet curtains of the modiste’s shop, like an actor on stage introducing some fine performance. “Such materials, such gowns. Like nothing I warrant you’ve seen anywhere else before.”

Rachel stepped forward with Anne at her side, still amazed that Anne had agreed to come with them as they purchased new gowns for the ball.

“As the duchess, Rachel, you must have something new. Something that will announce your position,” Dorothea said with grandeur, sweeping an arm toward some of the priciest of materials.

“Do you think your aunt is trying to dress me up a little too much?” Rachel whispered to Anne.

“Perhaps a little.” Anne managed a small smile.

“I’ll be trussed up like a chicken by the end of the day.”

Anne laughed as Rachel followed Dorothea around the materials. The small strides Rachel was making with Anne seemed to be slowly working. Anne still may not be the greatest conversationalist when they were alone together, but she no longer made comments or referred to Rachel as if she wasn’t in the room.

“Come, Anne, what do you think of this?” Dorothea held up a strong Pomona green silk and pressed it to Anne’s shoulder. “It would suit you perfectly.”

When Anne screwed up her nose, Rachel stepped forward, recognizing the look of uncertainty.

“What colors do you like to wear?” she asked, being mindful not to tread on any toes as Dorothea continued to wrap the green material around Anne.

“I prefer blue,” Anne whispered.

“Blue would suit your eyes well.” Rachel nodded at some blue silks behind her. “Perhaps look at these. Dorothea, I think you’re about to choke poor Anne.”

“Am I?” Dorothea asked, none the wiser, and abruptly released the material. “It is such fine silk.”

Anne mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ and hurried to the table full of blue silks. Rachel followed her and pointed out some silks that would suit her complexion well.

“I am not certain.” Anne screwed up her nose as she looked between them. “I was hoping for something that would make me stand out a little more, I guess. As opposed to something I always wear.”

“Would that be in an effort to catch a gentleman’s eye?” Rachel asked, jumping on a guess.

Anne looked up, wide-eyed, then sent a panicked glare to Dorothea, who was not paying attention to them but had managed to ensnare the modiste in conversation.

“Fear not, I will not ask you who it is. Many years of dealing with Emily have taught me that it is not a welcome question. Yet, if impressing a gentleman is what you seek, then how about this?”

Rachel reached forward and lifted a bolt of silk from the back of the table. Far from being plain silk, it was embroidered with lace all over, the dual pattern glittering in the sunlight through the window.

“Now, this is something special.”

“It is. Thank you.” Anne took the bolt from her and held up a sample of the silk, holding it to her shoulder. “What do you think?”

“It would suit you well, indeed.” Rachel nodded. “No hints as to who the gentleman is?”

Anne offered her a mock glare.

“Oh, I know that look.” Rachel rapped herself on the knuckles. “Consider me warned. I will not ask again.”

Anne smiled and hurried off to the nearest mirror, holding up the silk to her body.

Dorothea walked forward with the modiste and gushed over Anne’s choice. Promptly, she took control and urged the modiste to take Anne’s measurements at once for a new gown.

Distracted, Rachel crossed the room, aware that at the back of the shop, another long velvet curtain had been drawn, hiding part of the shop.

“Would you like to see, Your Grace?”

A small woman stepped forward with a sweet smile and bold grey eyes. She was a seamstress, for she wore a tap measure over her shoulder, and in a loose belt around the waistline of her gown, there were various pins and threads hanging loose.

“What is behind it?” Rachel asked.

“A section that is for married women only to see,” the seamstress whispered playfully. “Come, I shall show you.” She checked over her shoulder, seeing that the others in the shop were distracted, then slipped beyond the curtain and beckoned Rachel to follow.

Rachel stepped through, startled by the heady perfume that lingered in this space. There were only high windows in this room, meaning no one from the streets of Mayfair could sneak a look into this secret space.

“I see why you draw the curtain now,” Rachel said with a giggle, looking around the room with excited eyes.

The room was filled with a vast array of corsets, stays and stockings. Far from the most basic of corsets that were designed simply to flatter the shape, the corsets here were plainly intended to be seen, for they were sensual in their design.

Rachel walked between them, feeling as if her eyes had been opened to an entirely new world. She stopped by one set of stays that was cropped short, intended to halt just beneath the bustline, high on the waist. It was silky black with a low neckline that joined with black laces at the front. Paired with the corset were black stockings, so delicate and gossamer thin that as Rachel ran her fingers across them, she feared tearing them.

“Goodness,” she whispered. “What a room.”

“As I said, it is for married ladies only, Your Grace. This is a room no one talks about in public.” The seamstress stopped on the other side of the table where Rachel was looking. “Yet, every married lady knows of it.” She winked playfully.

Rachel giggled as a temptation burned within her. She stared at the black corset. It was a beautiful thing, yet all she could think of was Daniel, and what he would think if she wore it for him.

“How much?” she asked with eagerness.

The seamstress showed her a price, and without much thought, Rachel handed over some coins from her reticule and waited while the seamstress wrapped up the corset and stockings in tissue paper. She tucked them under her arm, intending to tell Dorothea and Anne, if they asked, that she had bought a new pair of gloves. Thanking the seamstress for her help, she stepped out into the main part of the shop in time to see Anne emerge from behind another set of curtains wearing an approximation of a gown.

As the modiste continued to pin the gown around her, Dorothea moved toward Rachel, not even glancing at the parcel under her arm.

“Now, it is your turn, dear. What material should you like to wear?”

“I have not thought.” Rachel wandered between the tables uncertainly, and suddenly, a particular sample caught her eye. The golden chiffon was trimmed with cream lace. “This is beautiful.”

“Then perhaps you should wear it,” Dorothea encouraged.

“Oh, no, I could not. To wear such a gown made out of this, one must be a little more…” Rachel paused, searching for the right words. “Well, beautiful,” she said. “Otherwise, one will pale in contrast in the gown.”

“I think we should buy you a new looking glass whilst we are out if you think you cannot carry such a material with ease.” Dorothea laughed and picked up the bolt before Rachel could protest anymore. “May I remind you that you are a duchess now? You can afford such materials as this.”

“Yes, but I do not need to buy it.”

“Fear not! Daniel will not mind, I’m sure of it.” Dorothea swept her away across the shop, carrying the bolt with ease and calling to the seamstress. “Ah, there you are. Would you help Her Grace with this material, please?”

Rachel was both impressed by Dorothea’s formidableness and a little intimidated, so she let herself be dressed in the material. She stood afterward before a mirror, fidgeting constantly, still unsure about the gown. There was something about it that unsettled her.

I still do not feel enough for the gown. That is the problem.

Then, her eyes lingered on the stool where she had left her new package with the corset and stockings. Remembering the way that he had made love to her with such passion the night before, she felt a little confidence returning and lifted her chin higher.

“What do you think?” Dorothea asked as she walked around Rachel. “It is striking, is it not?”

“Very striking.”

“Perfect for a duchess,” Dorothea added with glee.

Rachel did not think of whether the material suited a duchess or not. All she thought about was whether Daniel would like the gown.

* * *

Daniel looked over the accounts Lord Repington had provided him with, his eyes darting from one line of profits to another. Everything he had checked on, as per Rachel’s advice, was encouraging. It seemed Lord Repington had proven himself a fine businessman, indeed.

Sitting back in his chair, Daniel’s eyes lifted to the painting on the other side of the room. The shadowy painting with the speckled blood on the figures felt more upsetting today than it had felt in a long time. Repeatedly, he tried to turn his focus back to the accounts before him and Lord Repington’s last letter, which had encouraged the prospect of a partnership between the two of them.

Yet, Daniel’s mind couldn’t settle. An image flashed behind his eyes, of the battlefield as he had seen it in his dream the night before, then that image was replaced with another. It was of Rachel as they had made love, with the two of them passionately clinging to each other, and the smile on her face as she had fallen asleep afterwards, with her head on his shoulder. For some minutes, he’d tangled his fingers in her hair, toying with the honey-brown locks, distracted.

Abruptly, he stood from his chair and dropped the papers he’d been looking through. He reached for the painting on the wall and lifted it from its place, taking it down. He placed it on the floor and leaned it against the wall, then turned his back on it. He barely returned to his desk before deciding it was not enough and came back to the painting, turning it around so that the canvas faced the wall.

Feeling more contented, he returned to his desk and sat down, at last able to concentrate on his work, though it was not for long. A knock at the door disturbed him.

“Come.”

Mrs. Brooks walked in, humming to herself happily. In her hands, she carried a silver tray with a small bottle of claret and a wine glass. She placed both beside him.

“Oh, Your Grace, you’re working long hours again.”

“It is just for now until I get this partnership in place.” He thanked her for the wine.

“Your family has returned from their shopping. Lady Anne is most delighted with her gown, and I do believe that Her Grace is happy with her own as well.” Mrs. Brooks smiled as she poured out the wine for him.

“Good. This ball is more of my aunt’s doing than our own. I wish for Rachel to enjoy it.”

He’d been secretly pleased that morning over breakfast when Anne had responded to Rachel in conversation and hadn’t ignored her. It gave him hope that his life here with Rachel could be a truly happy one, without anything to concern them.

“Oh, I see you are talking with Lord Repington again.” Mrs. Brooks hovered by his desk, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the papers.

“Yes, I am. We’re thinking of going into a partnership together. To put whatever discord there was between the two families behind us.”

He took the glass she’d poured out and sipped, noticing that she didn’t retreat or comment. She just continued to stare at the letter that bore Lord Repington’s name, deep in thought.

“Is all well, Mrs. Brooks?”

“Yes, of course.” She smiled and stepped back. “I was just remembering something your father said about that gentleman and his father.”

“What was that?” Daniel asked.

“Something about them not being trustworthy.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Your father was one for exaggeration.”

“And for resentment.” Daniel sighed, knowing it to be true. “I don’t doubt his words came from his own misguided feelings. It’s one of the reasons why I wish to do this.”

“A noble endeavor, indeed,” Mrs. Brooks said, smiling softly. “All I can remember is that your father was glad to be done with the deal when the last partnership ended, though he did not explain why to any great extent. Oh well, that is in the past now. Be careful not to work too hard, Your Grace.”

“I won’t. Thank you.” He smiled at her motherly ways, watching as she left.

He took another sip of his wine and looked at the letter before him. There was something in Mrs. Brooks’ words that had left him even more determined than before. His father had often damaged relationships with people and left a sour taste in everyone’s mouths afterward.

Time to remedy the past.

Daniel brought forward a clean sheet of paper and began penning a new letter to Lord Repington, encouraging him to come to their ball at the end of the week. It would be a chance to not only discuss business but to start their friendship afresh.

* * *

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Daniel fidgeted. His shirt was loose, no longer tucked into his trousers, and he’d removed his boots. He’d long sent his valet away, no longer wishing for his company but another’s.

His eyes repeatedly sought out the door that connected his chamber to Rachel’s. It was still early, and she could come to see him at any point, but he was impatient. His knee bobbed up and down as his heel tapped the floor restlessly.

I could go to her.

He looked at the connecting door, which remained firmly closed. He longed to go to her, to repeat what they had done the night before, something he knew she had enjoyed as much as he had.

All day, they had exchanged longing glances, especially over dinner. Dorothea must have sensed it, as she’d been quick to draw Anne into a card game after dinner, leaving Daniel to sit with Rachel alone on the settee and talk.

They had talked of mostly mundane things, books and riding, but had ended up sitting near one another, constantly laughing, for Rachel’s sense of humor had a habit of throwing light on any matter.

“I could go to her.”

Daniel stood from his place at the foot of the bed, looking at the door again. He didn’t want to push her, and the fear that she might feel pushed if he went into her chamber made him hesitate for a few seconds. Yet, he longed to be with her, and they could sleep beside one another if she did not intend to be intimate again so soon.

With his mind made up, he crossed the room and reached for the connecting door. He knocked on the door lightly, but there was no answer. He knocked a little harder.

“Rachel? Are you in there?”

“One minute!” she called from within. “I’m just…”

“Just what?”

“Struggling with something. Oh goodness. Oh!” It sounded as if she fell over.

“Rachel?”

“Don’t come in yet!” she called.

“It sounds as if you are wrestling with something.”

“You could say that. Oomph!” She must have righted herself again. The sounds pulled a chuckle from him as he leaned on the wall beside the door, waiting for her.

“Would you mind some company this evening?” he whispered.

“I’d be glad of it, but you’ll have to wait a few minutes more. Oh, what is this thing?” She muttered the last part to herself.

Wait… I must wait…

“I’m beginning to think I’m an impatient man, Rachel,” he called through the door, tapping his foot on the floorboards once again.

“You can wait for this. Trust me.”

“Wait for what?” he asked, chuckling.

“Oh!” More noises followed. It was a heavy thud then a sound of pain.

“Rachel?”

With sudden panic, Daniel could not hold back anymore. He reached for the door and pushed it open, relieved to find she had left it unlocked.

On the other side, he looked around, dazed by the number of candles Rachel had lit. He struggled to see where she was, then saw some movement at the foot of her bed.

She stood hurriedly, facing away from him, wearing nothing but a slim-fitting, short black corset and black suspenders. Her curved rear was completely revealed in the candlelight. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her honey-brown locks loose and falling past her bare shoulders.

“You were not supposed to come in yet!” she insisted, waving around herself.

He realized at once what was happening. She still didn’t have one of the stockings completely up and was pulling it up over her knee. In her effort to pull it higher, she had tripped over the chaise at the bottom of her bed and ended up on the floor. Now, she stood straight, pulling at the stocking again.

“Daniel?”

She abandoned her work with the stocking as it reached her thigh and looked back at him again.

He could summon no words. Such lust swelled within him that his mouth turned dry, and his heart thudded so hard he could practically feel his ribcage vibrating with the movement.

“Daniel?” she called again.

She turned to face him completely, revealing the sensual corset and suspenders in all their glory and how they flattered her figure perfectly. She hung her hands in front of her, hiding her most private part.

“Say something.”

“Something?” He let the door swing shut behind him. “There’s so much I wish to say.”