Page 32 of Claimed By the Duke of Ice

Inside the box laid several pairs of lady’s gloves, each pair held in place by a string and a small nail. There were many fashionable pairs made of lace and silk in pretty colors, but the one pair that caught his eye was the black leather set. They matched his own, only much smaller. And these were the ones that Grace pulled from the collection.

“I had these made with you in mind,” she explained, pulling them on. “I noticed that you always wear yours, and I thought—well, I thought if we could ever find steady ground, perhaps they could help in some way.”

Nathaniel looked at her, amazed. “You thought of this even after the way I acted the other night?” he asked.

Grace shrugged.

“Whether you like it or not, I am a sentimental person, husband. And I do try to find solutions whenever possible,” she replied coolly.

Nathaniel was touched by her thoughtfulness. It was a level of empathy that was foreign to him. But he had never allowed anyone to shave him before, not even his valet. The touch against his face was always just too much. But perhaps with Grace…

He gave her a nod, and the happiness that touched Grace’s face became obvious and inviting. In moments, she had her handmaid bring up everything necessary. A stand, hot water, towels, his shaver, and the lather.

“Sit, husband,” Grace urged, gently pushing down on his shoulders when they were once again alone.

Nathaniel obeyed, but he felt a bit of resistance as he did so. What if things went wrong? And with a sharp blade in her hand, things could go very wrong.

“Perhaps this is not—” he began to say. But as he spoke, Grace gently tipped his head back and covered his face with a hot, damp towel. A sweet aroma filled his nostrils as he breathed in deep, and relaxation coursed through him, obliterating his tension.

Well, he thought, relaxing into his chair, this is actually quite nice. Strange, but nice.

“My Papa taught me that this makes shaving the face much easier,” Grace explained. He could hear the happiness in her voice as she swept the blade across the strop. “And much more pleasant.”

“I can see why,” Nathaniel murmured through the fabric.

* * *

With a giggle, Grace gently pulled the towel away from Nathaniel’s face and gingerly began to brush on the lather she’d just worked up from the tin. Nathaniel’s eyes still looked at her suspiciously, but she calmly ignored them and continued with her task until the bottom of his face was covered with a white, foamy beard.

With gentle fingers, she tilted his chin and stepped in closer. Both of them tensed as she first ran the blade over his stubble, but once she pulled it away, revealing a clean, smooth row of skin, Grace felt him relax once more. Ecstatic that he was allowing her this close, she said nothing but instead continued, carefully taking away one patch of facial hair at a time.

“You have a lovely tone about you,” Nathaniel stated after a while.

“Hmm?” Grace inquired, wiping away the foam and hairs she’d just taken from his face.

“Your humming,” Nathaniel explained.

“I was humming?” Grace laughed softly. “I hadn’t realized.”

He opened one eye to look at her, a small smirk on his lips.

“It is quite lovely though I don’t recognize the tune. What is it called?”

“Oh, um, I am not sure,” she replied, continuing her work. “They are just little melodies I make up in my head, I suppose. When I’m happy.”

Nathaniel opened his other, both of them studying her now.

“This makes you happy?” he asked.

“I suppose it does,” Grace replied, taking yet another stroke of the shaver. As she wiped it clean, she turned her head up and down, then left to right, trying to find how best to tackle the swath beneath Nathaniel’s neck.

“What is the matter?” Nathaniel asked. His tone was no longer curt at all but instead passive, even kind.

“I’m afraid I have run into a small stalemate with your rebellious beard,” she mused teasingly.

“You are not as large of a man as my Papa, as you well know, and while he has a round face, yours is quite…angular.”

“And that is a problem?” Nathaniel mused, his one eyebrow going up.

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