Page 23 of Claimed By the Duke of Ice

“I’m sure with a little mending and alteration, I could have my gowns back into perfect form,” Grace interjected, her eyes darting from Nathaniel to his aunt.

Nathaniel felt a swell of admiration for his bride. She was not only allowing the insults to simply fall away from her but was also willing to help work toward a solution. He also admired how little interest she appeared to show in spending his money, and he wanted to reward her for that.

“I believe my Aunt may have a point,” he announced, setting his fork and knife down. Both women looked at him, surprised.

“I have set today aside for your visit, Aunt, but perhaps our time would be better spent in town instead of here in my home.”

He stood up, done with his meal. “Come, let us visit the modiste.”

Aunt Tabitha let out a strained laugh as she, too, rose and began to shake her head.

“I did not mean this very day, dear nephew,” she countered.

“If not today, then when, dear Aunt?” Nathaniel countered quickly. “Besides, perhaps it would be best if you were there. You wouldn’t want your new niece to purchase anything unworthy of her new station now, would you?”

Nathaniel watched in amusement as Grace bit her bottom lip to contain her smile, and he instantly felt the urge to be the one that bit down on her delicate flesh. He suddenly remembered their kiss after the race; how sweet she tasted. How soft her lips were. Losing focus, Nathaniel turned to his aunt. At the same time as Grace struggled with her humor, his aunt appeared to struggle with her anger. Seeing the contrast only made him more amused, and he quickly summoned for a carriage and a messenger.

* * *

The carriage ride provided great amusement for Nathaniel as they traveled into town. Any time his aunt said something sharp or impolite, Grace’s response was to be kinder and more polite, and he could tell it was driving his aunt mad. As he watched the interaction, his admiration for Grace grew, and he wondered what sort of conniption fit his aunt would have thrown upon seeing their little race the other day.

“Bonjour, Your Graces, Lady Kenstrat!” the modiste greeted them warmly as they entered the dress shop. “It is an honor for you to visit my shop. My name is Madame Rosé. I was so happy to receive your message. As requested, I have rescheduled my other appointments, so you will have privacy.”

“We thank you for your time, Madame Rosé,” Nathaniel replied cordially as he returned the formality. “My wife is in need of a new wardrobe, and I have brought my aunt along for advice. Please do not bother with the prices of their purchases. You have my assurance that any balance will be paid immediately and in full.”

At this, Madame Rosé’s face lit up, and she giggled excitedly as she took Grace by the hand and began to lead her further inside the shop.

“Please, come with me, Your Grace,” she urged. “I am sure that I can make you whatever your heart desires.”

“It is not what her heart desires but what society dictates,” Tabitha interjected stiffly, sweeping in front of the modiste to get to the bolts of fabric first. “The Duchess must dress from a place of power, not preference.”

Nathaniel settled into a chair as the debacle began. Obviously needing to extend her control in whatever way possible, his Aunt Tabitha discouraged any fabric or pattern that Grace was drawn to. No matter how harshly she phrased her speech, however, Grace responded respectfully and agreed. Which, to his amusement, only riled his aunt’s temper even more.

“That is far too whimsical for a married woman to wear,” his aunt would say.

“Of course, My Lady, do forgive my ignorance of such matters,” Grace would reply and then try to find a way to agree or compliment his aunt’s choices.

He had to hand it to his aunt, though. The patterns and fabrics she chose for Grace’s new wardrobe were not at all insincere, and she was making choices that would indeed show the sudden rise in Grace’s social status. He did, however, begin to make mental notes regarding Grace’s preferences and stored them away.

At one point, his aunt became frustrated with the fabrics and demanded to see some dresses that were already made. Right away, the modiste guided her to a different part of the store, and in less than a moment, they came back holding a gaudy black and silver dress. Though Nathaniel knew nothing about fashion, even he raised an eyebrow at this. It was not at all Grace’s style, and as they met eyes briefly, he couldn’t help but smile as he saw her hold back a giggle.

“This is…well, it is quite remarkable, isn’t it?” Grace asked as his aunt held up the dress.

Nathaniel had to cup his hand over his mouth to keep in his laughter. It was so adorable how she continually strived to be polite about Aunt Tabitha’s choices. Even if they were awful.

“Of course, it is,” Aunt Tabitha replied with an air of superiority. “Look at it! It is the very beacon of sophistication. It is probably too small for your frame, but try it on. It will give us an idea of what we should do.”

Grace followed the modiste back into the dressing room obediently, leaving Nathaniel and his aunt alone.

“She is quite the perky little thing, isn’t she?” his aunt mused as soon as they were gone.

“It certainly seems so,” Nathaniel replied. “Admirable, too. If you had made me do this as a boy, I would have put ink in your tea in retribution.”

Aunt Tabitha rolled her eyes as she sat down next to him. “This is the price every woman must pay if their station is elevated, Your Grace,” she explained. “I am not doing or saying anything that any other chaperone would not do.”

Nathaniel was about to retort when Grace and the modiste reappeared. The moment he saw Grace in the dress, he couldn’t help but snort as he laughed, and he had to cup his hand over his mouth again to stop. It was a hideous thing, this dress. The silvery shoulders of the ensemble puffed out wide, nearly as big as Grace’s head, and the sharp shade of black drew out all of the color in her face, giving her a gauche look. Contrary to his aunt’s speculation on the size, however, it did fit her figure exceedingly well.

The dresses that Grace normally wore hid her frame and created smooth, straight lines. But this one followed her curves beautifully, accentuating the curve of her ample breasts, hips, and small waist. Through the humor of it all, Nathaniel felt a tug of arousal in his lower belly, making his muscles harden in a peculiar way. Suddenly, he found himself shifting in his seat, trying to disguise the sudden bulge between his legs.

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