Page 25 of Claimed By the Duke of Ice

Curious to see what had come, Grace agreed and headed up the stairs to her quarters. She found Brigette waiting for her just outside her door, and she ushered her in to help her undress. She was so warm now in the gaudy fashion that she feared she might faint and wanted out of it as soon as possible.

“Oh, thank heaven,” Grace sighed as she finally felt the choking fabric separate from her body. “I don’t know how women are supposed to survive the fashion of these days. I swear it felt as if I was being baked alive in that thing.”

“Shall I hang it up for you, Your Grace?” Brigette asked after she helped Grace into a simple shift and light robe.

“Please,” Grace insisted, not wanting to see it anymore.

A short time later, Mrs. Snievely arrived with a tray and was followed by three young maids, all of whom had a large white box in their hands.

“This is all from the modiste’s?” Grace asked, shocked.

“It is, indeed, Your Grace,” Mrs. Snievely replied, smiling. “Shall I help you unwrap them?

Grace agreed, and they both went to the boxes to lift the lids. Grace gasped after she carefully pulled away the tissue from the first box and gingerly lifted the white and silver gown that had been nestled there. It was made from some of the fabrics she had been admiring while they had been shopping and had been sewed into a pattern she found more flattering for the season—short, puffed sleeves with a low, scooping neckline and a skirt that didn’t hug her hips so much. It was perfect.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Snievely said in awe, pulling the dress from the box she’d just opened. Like the first, it had the same pattern but was made with a lavender fabric and had a gauzy overlay with green vines and leaves embroidered into it.

“You’ll be as pretty as a painting in this one, you will,” Mrs. Snievely praised, handing the gown to her.

“I don’t understand,” Grace murmured as she opened the third box. “I am sure we didn’t order these.”

Upon lifting the lid of the third box, she found a note atop the tissue paper written in elegant handwriting.

Your Grace,

Thank you for your visit to my humble shop. It was an honor to meet our new duchess and be the first to dress you from our town. I sincerely hope you enjoy the pieces your husband has commissioned for you. It is my opinion that he has excellent taste. Please visit me again when you are in need of more.

Your humble servant,

Madame Rosé, Modiste De Ninter

“These are from my husband,” Grace said in awe as she stared at the card. “He must have noted my liking toward them and had them ordered while I was busy with Aunt Tabitha.”

Mrs. Snievely puffed her chest out proudly as her chin lifted higher.

“What did I tell you, Your Grace? Our Master is a good man. He just has his own way of showing such affections.”

“Indeed, he does,” Grace murmured. She put the card down, reached into the box, and pulled out the final dress. The shade of the fabric was identical to the blue gown she’d worn the day of her fitting. The same one she’d worn on the first day she and Nathaniel had met. In fact, it almost matched the old gown perfectly, save for the embroidered clutches of pearls over the skirt and the bosom.

“Brigette, help me into this one, please,” Grace implored, pulling the blue dress all the way out of its box. “Mrs. Snievely, what time did His Grace say he would return this evening?”

“He should be back very shortly, Your Grace,” Mrs. Snievely replied as Bridgette took the dress, “but he usually has work to do in his office on days like this. He can be in there all night at times.”

“Very well,” Grace said with a nod. “Have our supper delivered to his office this evening, please. I shall like to thank my husband properly for these gifts.”

* * *

Nathaniel rubbed his eyes wearily, trying for the thousandth time to pull his focus back on his work. It seemed every other second, he had to mentally force himself to stop thinking about Grace. The way she felt in his arms, the way her kiss made his body respond like never before. He wanted more, so much more. But his experiment had failed. Grace’s touch, though wonderful at first, eventually triggered his symptoms to befall him after a few seconds. Brief euphoria followed by pain. He found it damning—to finally want to touch someone and still not have the ability.

Even now, as he sat at his desk trying to look over import and export treaties, he felt his cock grow hard at the memory of them in the dress shop. Her fingertips had been so soft…so gentle against his ear. What would those fingertips feel like over the rest of him?

A knock on the door startled him from his reverie, and Nathaniel cursed as he worked to gather himself and the mess of papers on his desk. He attempted to stand up to answer the door, but as he did so, he felt the bulge between his legs sharpen, and he felt forced to sit back down.

“Come in,” he called as he tried to find a comfortable position.

Nathaniel’s cock only grew harder as the door opened, and he saw Grace walk in wearing one of her new dresses—the blue one with the pearls that he favored the most. He put a subtle hand over his mouth, so he wouldn’t moan at the sight. She looked beautiful in the new gown, ethereal even. It suited her much better than the more aristocratic designs that Aunt Tabitha had ordered for his new bride.

“Good evening, dear husband,” Grace greeted him sweetly, curtseying toward him once she reached his desk. As she bent her knees to bow her head, he could see the ample swell of her cleavage, beckoning to him like a siren’s song beckoned a pirate. When she rose back up, her smile was warm and genuine, and he wanted to reach across his desk and kiss her lips. Instead, though, he gripped the arms of his chair tightly and forced himself to stay put.

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