Page 55 of Her Tiger of a Duke
When she returned later that afternoon, she could not stop smiling. She was holding some sketches, but she would not let him see them. It was clear to him that she wished for it to be a surprise, and that was something he was all too happy to play into. He was most looking forward to seeing what she came up with when the choice was hers entirely.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked, once the papers were hidden away.
“I had an incredible time. We have made so many designs, which is what I have brought home. The seamstress suggested that they are saved for future events, though she has asked for more time in future.”
“She will be given it,” he chuckled. “Will there be any issue with having your gown ready for tomorrow?”
“No, we are fortunate in that she is making a special allowance for us. I do hope not to do this again, however. I do not want to use our family name to be treated differently.”
“We will not,” he assured her. “I am not one to ask for favors, which is why people are usually happy to do so when I ask for one. If it makes you feel better, though, we shall not ask her of this again.”
“It is my preference. I must admit, though, that I felt most special when she agreed to do it. I have hardly ever felt as important as I did there.”
“Then I am most excited to see what gown has been made for one as important as you.”
“Owen, I am not that important.”
“You are now, my Duchess. Everyone in attendance tomorrow will be expecting my wife to be confident, and that is something that I would also very much like to see.”
She laughed, rushing off to prepare other things. Her skirts rustled as she left, and Owen looked at the doorway long after she was gone.
He had not wanted her to be as important to him as she had become, and even worse she was liked by the village. It was supposed to be a joyous thing, proof that she had taken to her role well, but that was not how he felt. Instead, his fears cameflooding in at once. If something were to happen to her, the village would have to grieve a second time. He could not do it, not again.
And so, he drew up plans for a fence. It would border the forest and be too tall to jump over. He would not put a gate in, either, for it was for the best that nobody ever entered it again. He refused to admit how afraid he was when Beatrice entered it, because it would have meant admitting other things alongside it, but he knew he had to do something about it. She could not enter it again, because he could not let her risk her life.
He liked her far too much to allow it.
CHAPTER 23
Beatrice had never thought that she could have the same figure as the other young ladies, but something had changed in her.
When the modiste took her measurements and muttered them as she wrote them down, she did not shudder. She simply heard the numbers and nothing more. When different colors were held against her, she did not think they looked hideous. For the first time in her life, she actually felt pretty.
And she knew precisely who she had to thank for that.
It was not in anything that Owen had said to her, but how he treated her. When they talked, he looked at her intently, truly listening to what she had to say. He remembered things about her, and when he heard the truth about her family, he hardly cared at all. She had never thought that anyone would ever like her even half as much as he did, and that let her dream.
It was a dangerous thing to do, yet she dared. She chose a forest green for her gown, one that would contrast the icy blues and silvers that she expected to see.
“You shall be the one who everyone looks upon,” the seamstress, Madame Dupont said in her faint French accent. “And one of my favorite fabrics, too.”
“Do you think it might be too much?” she asked, cautiously looking at herself again.
“Nonsense. A duchess can never be too much. You are to be a guest of honor, Your Grace. They shall have no choice but to like you, and when you look as lovely as this, they will admire you completely.”
Beatrice struggled to imagine what the gown would look like when completed, but she did not need to wait long. By morning, she received word that it was complete. She almost did not believe it at first, but of course the modiste would not lie to her. She left with a maid after breakfast, where she noted that her husband was absent.
She did not think much of it, however. He was a busy man, and from what she understood, if they were to say their honeymoon had been good, that meant the honeymoon was over. It had been a good few weeks, but they had duties to fulfill and that meant seeing less of one another.
“My word!” she gasped when she saw the gown.
It was exactly as the sketch looked; deep green silk that felt incredibly soft yet had an undeniable weight to it, with pale lace on the sleeves and the hem and delicate embroidery that wrapped around the waistline. It was something to marvel at, and she could not believe that it had only taken a day.
“Good morning,” Madame Dupont greeted. “I can see you are pleased.”
“I could not be happier. How did you do it?”
“I ‘ad some assistance,” she explained. “It was me and three assistants, but it was finished quickly enough. They were more than ‘appy to work with me when I told them who it was for.”
