Page 49 of His Arranged Duchess
“I think you look extremely pretty, Frances, but you know that my taste in clothing is not to be trusted.”
Frances had to smile at that. Today, Katherine had chosen the most ridiculous bonnet Frances had ever seen, heavy with false fruit and silk flowers, and what appeared to be a pretendbirdnestled in amongst it all. If she mentioned anything about the bird to Katherine, she had no doubt that her friend would reveal that she had named the bird something, probably a ridiculous name like Horace.
“There’s a lot of talk about you and your husband in town, by the way,” Katherine added, while Mama and Aunt Emily quietly argued over lace in the background. “Personally, I think that you two are very well suited. And heisvery handsome, you know. Exactly your type.”
Frances snorted. “I was not aware that I had a type. Besides, we were brought up in an all-girls' school. Aside from my rather pathetic Season, when would I have had the time to develop atype?”
“Well, I couldn’t possibly say, but one still has eyes, after all, and one can see that he’sextremelygood-looking, in acanis lupussort of way.”
“Perhaps you can marry him, then,” Frances mumbled, turning this way and that. The gown flattered her figure, drawing attention to the curve of her chest and of her hips. The neckline was a little lower than what she was used to, revealing a littledecolletage. There was something thrilling about that.
She met Katherine’s eye in the mirror, and her friend gave a slow smile.
“I think perhapsyouare enjoying being married to him quite enough,” she murmured.
Frances flushed, but before she could respond, the door opened and another gaggle of ladies entered. They were vaguely familiar faces, from places like Almack’s and other parties, but Frances had not been introduced to any of them. One of them was demanding a fitting at that moment, and the modiste threw Frances an apologetic look.
“Don’t worry,” she assured the modiste, stepping down from the pedestal. “I’ll take a little time to decide whether I’ll buy the dress or not.”
The modiste’s attention was now entirely diverted by the gaggle of ladies, and Katherine had been pulled into the now-heated debate over lace. That left Frances free to wander around the shop, fingering silken ribbons and letting cool, colorful skeins of thread slip through her fingers.
“Pretty, aren’t they?”
She flinched at a sudden male voice at her shoulder, and spun around to find rake Benjamin Holton at her elbow. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn to the ‘party’ at the abbey. He was also wearing the same mocking, knowing grin.
“Mr. Holton,” she managed. “Good day.”
“You don’t seem happy to see me, Your Grace. If anything, you seem rather shocked.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “I’m shocked to see a man in a modiste’s.”
He chuckled. “I’m buying a gift for a friend. Perhaps it’s good that you’re here. I can apologise in person for making you so uncomfortable the other day. At your own home, no less.”
She flushed, lifting her chin. “I was not uncomfortable. My husband is perfectly entitled to choose and keep his own friends. In fact, I hope that you will, in time, become my friend, as well.”
Benjamin’s smile widened at this. He didn’t respond for a moment, simply eyeing her with a curious expression.
“What an interesting thought, your Grace. Let us hope to have a happy and speedy conclusion to this whole business. I must say that Lucien has not at all been himself lately. Perhaps that is due to you.”
Frances waited for him to elaborate on whether the change was a good one or a bad one, but he did not. Instead, silence descended between them, heavy and stifling.
“Perhaps it is,” Frances said at last, feeling as if she’d missed a beat. “I suppose that nobody stays the same after marriage.”
Benjamin smiled wider, as if she’d said something particularly amusing.
“Very well said, Your Grace, very well said indeed.”
Abruptly, he leaned forward, and Frances flinched back, eyes wide. It almost seemed for an instant that he was about tokissher. But he only reached past her to a low shelf where pairs of gloves were stacked up. He picked up a pair of kid gloves with a shockingly expensive price tag and leaned back out of Frances’s space.
She straightened up, having darted reflexively backwards. She felt rather foolish now and knew that her face must be bright red.
“A present,” Benjamin explained, holding up the gloves. He glanced over her head, catching the eye of the modiste. “Add it to my account, if you please.”
The modiste did not seem pleased and opened her mouth to speak, but her attention was entirely taken up by the lady on her pedestal, so she shook her head and turned away. Benjamin glanced down at Frances again and smiled.
“Are you going to buy that dress?”
She smoothed the bodice self-consciously. “I don’t know. I thought I might, but it’s cut very differently from the gowns I usually wear. And as for color, Mama prefers to dress me ingreens and blues, and occasionally in brown. I am blonde, you see, and she says it suits me better.”
