Page 53 of A Virgin for the Duke of Ash

“Speaking of the trousseau…” Madame Dumosse smiled at Evie as she turned and waved a hand towards her assistants. One by one, they opened their boxes to reveal numerous stockings and dresses, lacy underthings and the like.

“My word!” Lady Wellington gasped. “Does His Grace mean to change my granddaughter’s entire wardrobe?”

The Dowager Duchess only laughed. “It would seem so, Lavinia. That young man,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It seems I worried for nothing.”

Evie could only shake her head. “I worry that he might empty the coffers of Ashton Hall just for a wedding trousseau!”

“Oh, far from it.” The Dowager Duchess smiled with a twinkle in her eyes. “But I shall leave it up to you to discuss that with him.”

But how was Evie going to be able to discuss anything with him at all when he hardly talked to her? One might even say that he was going to great lengths to avoid talking to her at all.

Evie could only shake her head inwardly at that.

Whatever she envisioned her marriage to be, she certainly did not want her husband to avoid talking to her. Most wives in thetonmight think this most ideal, but she would not countenance such an arrangement!

One of these days, she meant to have a very lengthy conversation with him—one that she would not allow him to evade.

Daniel had never encountered a more difficult endeavor than to avoid someone currently living under his roof.

Ever since the night at Vauxhall, he had been doing his damnedest to make sure that he was never with Evie alone, having discovered for himself that in her presence, his self-control was practically nonexistent.

The woman was a living, breathing temptation. Seduction made flesh.

And he was the pitiful sod who was so unable to resist her.

If any of his previous paramours heard of it, they would laugh themselves silly and perhaps suggest a nice sojourn in Bedlam.

His train of thought was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Daniel looked up, half-afraid that he was going to find Evie before him.

It would not do well for me to deflower the bride before the wedding night.

He laughed harshly to himself.

Fortunately, it was just Caroline. She stood in the doorway with a wistful smile on her face.

“Come now, you are usually so eager to talk,” he muttered. “Whatever are you standing there for, smiling at me like that?”

The truth was that Daniel was so used to observing people that he found it thoroughly disconcerting when people just looked at him without saying anything, as if he was the one being scrutinized.

“I was just wondering how greatly you have changed,” the Dowager Duchess mused, before laughing softly and shaking her head. “You have been so adamant against taking a wife, and now, here you are, gifting your betrothed with a wardrobe fit for a queen.”

She deserves so much more.After all, it is no easy feat to be married to me.

“I take it that my order has been delivered,” he said dismissively instead, shrugging casually.

Caroline simply crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him with those unnervingly knowing gray eyes of hers. This woman, who—for all intents and purposes—was supposed to be his distant aunt, was the one who could see through his facade.

Most of the time, anyway.

“I also think that you had it delivered at precisely the right moment,” she pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Madame Dumosse would have never thought to intrude at an hour most suited for entertaining guests.”

“Perhaps she is busy,” he countered offhandedly. “She is, after all, one of the best modistes in the city—or so you keep telling me.”

“I am glad to see that you have been listening to me.” Caroline smirked. “And how could the woman be too busy when you have her working on Lady Evelyn’s trousseau alone?”

Daniel tightened his grip on the document he had been pretending to peruse. Sometimes, this “aunt” of his got a little too close to the truth.

Too close for comfort.

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