Page 31 of My Dark Duke

The duke’s body, his scent, and his touch had brought her to heights of pleasure she had not believed possible. The idea that she might be denied the chance to experience them again was unbearable.

Maude spent the next hour dutifully filling the cast iron tub in the dressing room. Once it was filled, Lillian submerged herself in the warm water, luxuriating in it until it went cold.

After toweling herself dry, she slathered her skin in the various lotions and potions Polly had set up on the dressing table. The bottle of Olympia Dew made promises of eternal youth, while the lable on the bottle ofPomade de Nerole, swore it would deliver thick, luxurious locks.

Lillian was not entirely certain she believed in the supposed powers of the cosmetics, but they coated her in divine floral scents, which she supposed was good enough.

Once finished, she brushed her hair out to dry and was soon joined by Polly.

“There’s not much to choose from in the wardrobe department,” Polly said, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “The evening gown we purchased yesterday will have to suffice. I took the liberty of removing thefichushe had stitched across the bosom, it was too matronly for a girl of your age. You can wear your new cape, for warmth.”

“And a headpiece,” Lillian reminded her, feeling a sudden flutter of nerves. This was to be her first time mixing freely with London society; she would not want to be outed on her debut.

The next hour was spent on dressing Lillian’s hair, which Polly arranged into charming curls - with the help of a searing hot fire poker. Once that was done, she helped Lillian to dress, fussing around her petticoats and pushing her stays up as high as they could possibly go.

They finished with the gown; white crepe, trimmed with satin ribbon, and the bodice & sleeves spotted with white beads. The bodice was cut daringly low, in Lillian’s mind. The creamy expanse of her neck gave way to the swell of her breasts, which pushed against the bodice as though seeking their escape.

“Are you certain it’s not immodest?” she questioned, biting nervously on her lip.

“You could be a nun in that,” Polly answered with a wink, leaving Lillian to wonder if the lady’s maid had ever met a nun in her life.

Her outfit was completed with the addition of her headpiece; a dark green velvet headband, appliquéd with glass beads of gold and a lace veil which fell over her eyes.

As Lillian surveyed the final effect in the mirror, she had to admit, even without the lace veil, she would be unrecognisable to anyone who knew her.

The woman reflected back at her was not the sweet, unassuming Lillian Hamilton of old, but a glamorous, new entity. Her dress highlighted her curves, her piled-high hair gave her a height she did not possess, and even her posture was more regal.

“His Grace won’t know what way to look,” Polly said cheerfully, delighted by Lillian’s awe-struck silence.

“I feel his gaze will be directed wholly toward my chest,” Lillian shot back, bringing a nervous hand up to fidget with her neckline. “Are you certain it’s not lewd?”

“Saint’s have mercy,” Polly grumbled. “Wait until you catch sight of thedemimondeproper, then you’ll see what lewd really looks like. Now, enough fussing; you need gloves and your cape. Why don’t you wait downstairs in the parlour room? I’ll send Maude in with a glass of wine to steady your nerves.”

Lillian followed her instructions and when Thorncastle arrived, a half hour later, he found her even more composed than she had hoped to be.

Her composure threw his own reaction to her appearance into sharp relief.

Thorncastle’s mouth briefly formed an “o” of surprise as he caught sight of her. His eyes, as Lillian had so shrewdly guessed, fell momentarily to her bosom, before quickly returning to her face.

She allowed herself a smirk, which he acknowledged with a rueful smile.

“Forgive my momentary lapse in manners,” he said, stepping forward to take her hand. “Though, you can’t blame a man. You look ravishing, Miss Smith.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, his expression decidedly wicked.

Despite her earlier anger at him, Lillian could not help but feel a frisson of excitement at his touch. He looked especially handsome dressed in dark evening attire, which gave him an air of severity. A silk burgundy cravat at his neck was his only concession to colour and brought out the vivid blue of his eyes, while his dark hair fell rakishly across his forehead.

Lillian could see the beginning of a shadow upon his strong chin and she shivered as she recalled the feel of his stubble grazing her inner thigh.

“Are you feeling unwell, Miss Smith?” the duke queried, with concern.

Lillian started; she had not realised she was staring. It was not only he who had momentarily forgotten their manners. The duke’s earlier exuberance looked set to disappear, as he surveyed her with worry.

“I feel very well,” she assured him, not wishing for him to return to the previous night’s mood. “I am looking forward to seeing where it is you are taking me.”

Thorncastle paused, as though inwardly debating how he should answer.

“I had planned a trip to the Vauxhall Gardens,” he said, his tone almost reluctant.

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