Page 23 of A Duke's Unwanted Bride
He nodded to himself. “Where did you learn this? Most women I know have some skill with sewing, but dressmaking? That list could fit on two hands.”
“I have always loved dressmaking. The different things one can do with fabric, a bit of clever stitching, and there are so many interesting things coming out of the continent and–” she cut herself off, flushing as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I doubt you want to hear about it.”
“No, you are… It is rather endearing to see you so excited about something. Your whole face lights up.” His blue eyes met hers, and her flush deepened. “Have you ever been to France?”
Adele shook her head. “No. Travelling to the continent is not really something one does as an unmarried woman. We do not get the gentleman’s tour. Perhaps one day I will get there, but… well, for now, I have my books and magazines.”
“You would love Paris. It is so vibrant and full of life. I can picture you studying with some of the great designers. Though perhaps it would be best to visit when things are more settled.” Duke Scarfield ran a hand through his hair. “These gowns are very bold; are they all for you?”
“No. This one is for Verity.” She pointed to a stylishly cut green silk gown. “The blue one is for Rowen — I thought it would bring out her eyes — and well, the black is for Cora. She never wears anything else, but I have discovered a way to weave in some silver thread to at least give it a little sparkle.”
“I am sure they will love them.” He put a hand over hers as she rested it on the gowns, and Adele’s heart quickened.
She swallowed, breathing deeply, and the scent of his cologne washed over her. She moved away, her head swivelling slightly as she did. “I hope so. I wanted to do something nice for them. They have given me so much, but well, perhaps they will think it vain of me.”
“I doubt they will. It is clear how much you care for them; why else would you put so much effort into their gifts?” He gestured around them.
“Finding their measurements has been the hardest part. In truth, I may have snuck a peak into the modiste’s books while I was waiting for them to finish their orders.”
“Rather wily of you, Lady Adelaide.”
“Lady Adele, please. I have always hated being called Adelaide.” Adele was not sure why she had said that.I do not even like the Duke.
“Lady Adele.” The Duke sounded out her name, and it felt like a physical touch that sent a shiver down her spine. He looked down at the sketches. “And do you ever design dresses for yourself?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
Adele shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. “I… Well, there just never seems to be time. And I would rather make things for my friends than for myself.”
“They are no more important than you are.” The Duke’s voice was surprisingly soft. “Do not give to others at the expense of yourself. You deserve beautiful things as well.”
“I know, but that does not mean I must make them.” Adele’s voice caught, and she was taken by surprise by the lump in her throat.
“I suppose it does not.” For a moment, Adele thought the Duke was going to close the distance between them, but he did not.
Silence settled between them so thick she could cut it with a knife. Adele swallowed and looked at the bookshelves. “We should find those books.”
“Yes.” The Duke cleared his throat. “We should.”
They turned from each other, and though they did not speak again. Adele was aware of his presence beside her, and to her surprise and alarm, she did not find it discomforting.
Eight
“What was your question?” Warner forced his gaze back to the Bow Street Runner in front of him with difficulty.
He was standing in the ballroom of the Crowley estate, at the fourtieth birthday party of the Countess Crowley. The room was crowded and full of music and noise. There were easily over a hundred guests, but his eyes kept being drawn back to one.
“If that is her idea of keeping away from scandal and sensationalist talk, then we are all in trouble,” Warner muttered as his eyes left the Bow Street Runner once more.
Lady Adelaide stood at the other end of the ballroom, laughing and smiling, surrounded by her widow friends. She was wearing black, as was befitting of a widow, but her dress was anything but plain.
The swooping neckline drew the eye to her collarbone. The short sleeves left most of the skin of her arms exposed. The dress itself seemed to highlight every feminine curve of her body. Warner’s scowl deepened as he saw a young man approach Lady Adelaide and ask her to dance.
“I was asking about Lord Kidlington’s relationship with his brother. Colonel Tobias,” the bow street runner repeated, and this time his question registered with Warner.
“They were as close as brothers can be. Rothwell doted on his brother, and Colonel Tobias adored Rothwell.”
