The Redemption of a Rogue by Chasity Bowlin

Author:Chasity Bowlin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2015-01-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The next morning found Abbi and Michael in the Bond Street shop of Mademoiselle Beauchamps. Swaths of fabric had been draped over her and an endless stream of fashion plates had been paraded in front of her. Dresses had been ordered for every possible event, activity and time of day.

Michael had insisted that everything be in vibrant shades, without a pastel in sight. He’d also taken a far too active role in selecting her under things. Her stays and chemises were no longer serviceable cotton but were of heavily embroidered silks and satins. Silk stockings and garters festooned with tiny bows and rosettes also accompanied them. Petticoats were provided that were so sheer, she might as well have been naked.

Abbi had blushed furiously when he’d ordered peignoirs in black, silk chiffon. Madame had asked him if he wished to have them lined for modesty and he had declined, stating adamantly the modesty had no place in the bedchamber. She had chuckled at him, called him a naughty boy and had winked at Abbi most inappropriately.

After being measured to within an inch of her life, they left the shop with the promise of several ready-made dresses being altered to fit and sent over that afternoon. Several more would follow during the rest of the week and beyond. Trips to the milliner, the cobbler, and the glove maker followed.

“It’s too much,” Abbi said after Michael had handed her up into the carriage for the short drive home.

“No, it isn’t. How long has it been since you’ve had new gowns?” he asked.

Abbi sighed, “It’s been years as you well know. That doesn’t change the fact that the amount of money spent today is enough to feed the village of Blagdon for a year.”

More than likely two years, but he didn’t bother to correct her. He had expected protests from her and had prepared an argument. “Regardless, your social station has changed and your wardrobe must reflect it. If it does not, it will reflect poorly on me.”

Abbi knew that was true. “London may well be your life, my lord, but I am not sure that it can be mine. The city is not for me, I fear. I will make a total cake of myself and be a social outcast. If that happens, it will benefit us both for me to return to the country.”

“You will not be a social outcast. But whether you are or not, has no bearing on the fact that you and I will be together. In London, in the country, or anywhere else, as husband and wife we will not live apart.”

“For a man who has inhabited the beds of countless married ladies, that is not the tack I expected from you regarding our own marriage.”

Michael leaned forward on the carriage seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he met her gaze, “I’ve done a great many things in my life that I am not proud of. Yes, I’ve had relationships with married women. Perhaps it makes no difference in my level of innocence or guilt, but I never sought them out.

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