Miss Winthorpe's Elopement (Belston & Friends #1)(36)

As she watched, her husband became the duke to her again, drawing in his power in a way that was both intriguing and intimidating. His voice dropped to a barely audible murmur. ‘Well, then. I am glad I have fulfilled your worst fears. We must set something straight, if we are to live in harmony.’

He meant to dictate to her? Reason fled her mind, and was replaced with white-hot rage. He had no right to do this, no right to tell her who she must be, if she was to be his wife at all. One, two, three…

‘The wardrobe I am suggesting is in no way wasteful. Think of it as a uniform, nothing more. You wish to be left in peace? Then you will find it easier to deflect notice if you can play the part of a duchess with reasonable facility. The clothing I am suggesting will make this easier and not more difficult.’

Four, five, six…

‘It will be expensive, but I have seen the statements from your bank, and you can most certainly afford it. If it helps, think of it as no different than you would allow me to purchase for my mistress. You had allotted an expense of this amount, hoping to keep me occupied so that you could work. Think for a moment the level of stubbornness and bullheadedness that you must project if you allow me to spend the money, but will only berate me for it if I wish to spend it on you.’

Seven, eight, nine…

‘I take your silence for assent.’ He rang for a servant and ordered the carriage brought round. ‘I will deposit you at a modiste, and you can work out, between you, what is best done. I care not for the details, as long as the project is completed.’

Ten. And still she could not find a hole in his argument.

‘And if you balk or resort to tantrums, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you there, for you are behaving as a spoiled child over something that any other woman in the world would enjoy.’

The nerve of the man. Very well, then. She would go to the dressmaker, get a few simple gowns in the same vein as those she owned, and escape the ridiculous display that he intended for her.

She rode in silence with him, still irritated by his insistence on controlling a thing that he could know nothing about. Before her come-out, she had had more than her share of pushy dressmakers, shoe sellers and haberdashers, all eager to force her to look a way that did not make her the least bit comfortable. She had lacked the nerve to stand up to them, and had felt no different than a trained pony at the end of it, paraded about to attract a buyer.

And it had all come to naught.

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of an unassuming shop in a side street, far away from the hustle of Bond Street. Adam stepped down and held out his hand for her, but she would not take it. Unlike some women she could name, she could manage to walk without the assistance of Adam Felkirk.

The horses chose that moment to shy, and she almost fell into the street.

But her husband caught her easily, and pulled her into his arms, and safely to the ground. Then he had the gall to smile at her. ‘This is what happens when you try to resist me. There is no point in it. I suggest you surrender, now.’

She glared at the shop in front of her. ‘And do you come here often to purchase clothes for women? Or is this the store that Clarissa was threatening me with?’

‘I have never been here before, and I have no idea where Clarissa would have had you go. This shop was frequented by my mother.’ His smile turned to an evil grin. ‘She decorated the sitting room that you enjoy so well. Since it does not matter to you what you wear, the fact should not bother you at all.’

She had a momentary vision of herself, clothed in bright pink organza, and could not control her grimace.

Adam nodded. ‘I will leave you to it, madam, for you know best what to do. But do not think you can return home without purchases, for I am taking the carriage and the driver will not return for you for several hours.’ He looked at her servant, hanging on the back of the carriage. ‘I will leave Jem with you.’ He tossed the man a sovereign. ‘When the carriage comes back, if you can carry the purchases in one trip, she has not bought enough. Tell the driver to leave and return in another hour.’

And her own servant, who she should have been able to trust, pocketed the coin and bowed to his new master.

Adam looked to her again. ‘When you are home, we will discuss the ball. Do not worry yourself about it. My mother had menus and guest lists as well. I am sure they will serve, and we can pull the whole thing together with a minimum of bother.’





Chapter Eleven




Penny watched the carriage roll away from her. Damn the man. He knew nothing about anything if he meant to pull a ball together with the help of a woman who, she suspected, had been dead far longer than her own father. Clarissa was right: it was a disaster in the making.

And what was she to do for the rest of the afternoon, trapped here? If she had known his intent was to abandon her, she’d have brought something to read. She stepped off the street and into the shop.

A girl dropped the copy of Le Beau Monde that she had been paging through and sprang to her feet behind a small gold desk. She said, with a thick French accent, ‘May I be of assistance, your ladyship?’

The girl sounded so hopeful, that Penny found it almost pleasurable to introduce herself with her new title. It made the girl’s eyes go round for a moment, and then her face fell.

‘Your Grace? I believe there has been a misunderstanding. You husband the duke must have been seeking my predecessor in this shop.’