Bed Me, Duke (The Bed Me Books Book 1) by Felicity Niven

Author:Felicity Niven [Niven, Felicity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bletherskite Books
Published: 2023-07-05T16:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

“No! It’s wrong, I tell you. Damn it.” Jack ran his hands through his hair, wanting to rip it out.

Helen stood in front of him, drowning in some ungodly pink dress with bows and ruffles. Ruffles!

“This dress is already made up and with a few quick alterations, it could be taken away today as requested. And it is what the debutantes are wearing, Captain Pike.”

“She’s not some bloody debutante.”

“Are you a widow, Mrs. Boyd? I didn’t understand.”

Jack stood. “She’s the Countess of Kinmarloch, in her own right. She is my lady, to you.”

The modiste Mrs. Allen looked from Helen to Jack and back to Helen again. She curtsied. “Yes, I see that now. My lady.”

“’Tis a very nice dress, Jack. And if this is what other women are wearing, surely ’tis fine.” Helen’s eyes were worried, anxious, trying to placate him. He didn’t like that. He didn’t want her to placate him. He wanted her to fight with him.

“You’re not to wear what other women wear, Helen. And I thought,” he rounded on Mrs. Allen, “someone else might see that.” He turned back to Helen. “And that dress is a horror on you. Take it off.”

Helen’s worried eyes turned fierce. Her jaw jutted.

That’s better. Hate me.

She turned and stomped back into the closed-off dressing area at the back where a seamstress waited to assist her. The shop had been shut to the public this morning at his request.

Mrs. Allen spoke. “I am a little uncomfortable with this arrangement, Your Grace.”

He answered in a barely voiced whisper, “I told you not to call me that.”

“She can’t hear us, I assure you.”

“Nonetheless, I am Captain Pike, Mrs. Allen. Or Mr. Pike.”

“Yes, Captain Pike.”

“Thank you for doing this. The appointment, everything.”

“You know you can have what you like from me and from the shop.”

He waved his hand as if to brush her words away.

“Tell me, Captain Pike,” Mrs. Allen said carefully, “what you envision for the countess.”

“I don’t know. But not that.”

“What color have you seen her in that you like?”

“Blue.”

“What kind of blue?”

“I don’t know. Blue blue.”

“The color of the lady’s eyes?”

“I don’t know. No, I do. The color of the sky on a perfectly clear spring day. After it has rained the day before. And it’s windy. Have you ever been to Scotland?”

“No. But I spent one summer when I was young in Yorkshire. I think I know what you mean. It’s not a harsh blue . . .”

“No . . .”

“But it’s not fair to call it a soft blue either. Because it’s so full of color.”

“Yes. And the dress is not to have . . .” He gestured with his hands around his neck and chest.

“Too much decoration.”

“Yes,” he grunted.

“But the lady is quite slender. Everywhere. A few ruffles give the illusion of fullness.”

“I don’t want illusion.”

“But the lady might.”

Jack paused. “Ask her.”

“I will. And I still don't quite understand. Is the dress to be a ballgown, an afternoon dress, what?”

Jack didn’t know. Helen thought she was buying the dress to meet the Duke of Dunmore. How had

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