Silk & Scars (The Silk Series Book 3): A Victorian Era Historical Romance by Cassandra Dean

Author:Cassandra Dean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance, friends to lovers, victorian romance, historical victorian romance, grumpy sunshine

Chapter Six

EDWARD STOOD AT THE base of the stairs. Shoulders relaxed and without a cane, he stood with his head turned as if examining the panelling on the wall before him.

Hand trailing the balustrade, Gwen enjoyed the chance to simply look. Though ruthlessly pomaded, his hair still curled about his ears and tickled his collar, too long for fashionable society but perfect on him. The wind would whip it about him as they walked the moors, and she loved how it appeared when they returned to Sowrithil, a mad tumble of loose curls snared wild about his head. Now, though, it lay mostly tame and sleek along his skull, combed to hide the beginning of the scar on his left side.

The evening coat he wore was tailored to perfection, one of the suits he must have acquired during his brief stint in London. Black fabric hugged the broadness of his shoulders, outlined the slimness of his hips. His grey trousers clung to thighs made powerful by walking the uneven moors, while the off-white waistcoat, shirt, and cravat contrasted with the unfashionable darkness of his skin. He spent much time outdoors and though the sun was often hidden behind cloud, his flesh showed a tan she had to admit she didn’t find unattractive. Oh no, it was just the opposite.

He stood at the base of the stairs, seemingly careless and carefree, his bearing proud. He looked every inch what he was—a duke.

Her step faltered. Quickly, she recovered herself. It did not matter he was a duke. He was Edward, and that was all that mattered to her.

Glancing up, he saw her and he smiled, his careful smile, the one that didn’t pull at his scar. The one that made her feel she was the person he most wanted to see in all the world. “Gwen,” he said, and the pleasure in his voice sent a shiver through her.

She took the arm he held out, his right arm. “You look beautiful, Edward.”

His cheeks turned ruddy. “Men aren’t beautiful.”

“Maybe men aren’t, but you are. To me.” She felt bold this evening, bold enough to say some of her thoughts as they occurred, and she thought him beautiful. He should know that.

Leading them to through the entrance hall, he said, “That should be my line. You look lovely, Gwen.”

Now it was her turn to blush. She didn’t have a choice of gowns, limited to the two she’d brought with her, but she’d worn the newer of the pair for this evening and had arranged her hair into a style Etta had once proclaimed flattering. She’d even woven a sprig of violets into her hair before removing it, deciding it was too fanciful.

The footman opened the dining room door, and Edward escorted her inside, helping her seat herself at the head of the table as surely great ladies did. Then, with his careful smile and a half-bow, he made his way to the other end of the table. The long table. She could barely see him at the other end, and they would surely have to shout if they wished to converse.

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