Read Online The Duke's Disaster (R) by Grace Burrowes - Free Book Online Page B

smooth play of his fingers on her nape, the way his body had covered and warmed hers, the…
    “That has to be the most unapproachable hair style on earth.” Anselm frowned at her coiffure as he came around the privacy screen, shooting his cuffs like some actor making an entrance from stage right.
    “This serves to keep my hair where it won’t cause trouble.”
    He peered at himself in her vanity mirror, and appropriated her hairbrush. From the scent of him, he’d made use of the tooth powder and some fancy French soap as well. Not lavender and roses today, but something summery and softly floral. As he dragged the brush over his hair, his gaze followed Thea in the mirror while she took her turn behind the dressing screen.
    “You aren’t complaining about being up so early,” he remarked a few moments later.
    “It would hardly matter, would it?”
    “Not in the least.” Thea heard him set the brush down. She did not hear him cross the room, and so when he folded his arms over the top of the screen, she tried not to let her discomfiture show.
    “You intend to watch me dress, Your Grace?”
    “Such pleasures are a husband’s privilege. At least that color is becoming.”
    And at least Thea had her chemise on, and the riding habit’s bodice secured too, though it gaped completely at the back. She hadn’t wrapped the skirt into the folds designed for riding either.
    “Let me do that.” Anselm stepped close, and Thea stopped breathing as he hooked her habit together at the back. His breath brushed her shoulder, so near did he stand, but she didn’t dare step away. To him, veteran of thirty-four mistresses, these little intimacies were likely routine, not even worth remarking. To Thea, they were…
    Overwhelming, and not in a good way. A good way would have been if their marriage were not tainted with her deceit, and her past. A good way would have been if Anselm had bothered to court her for even a few socially visible weeks. A good way would be…
    “Turn.”
    Thea obeyed, and let him— him! —adjust the skirts of her habit so they fell properly.
    “There.” Anselm stepped back and turned the ducal scowl upon her hair.
    “It’s just hair,” she said repressively. “If you like, I can cut it into fashionable little curls, but I warn you, I will look a fright when it rains, which is most of the time.”
    “You will not cut your hair.” Anselm winged his arm at her. “And that is not a request, Duchess. Now, chin up—you’re good at that—and feel free to adorn your countenance with your secretive, cat-in-the-cream-pot smile.”
    “Right.” Thea lifted her chin. “Conjugal bliss, smile, stammer, and all that.”
    “Just so.”
    Anselm smiled at her then, that almost-charming smile of the evening before, the one that momentarily banished the shadows in his blue eyes, made the corners crinkle with impending mirth—the smile that nearly stole Thea’s breath with the sheer dearness of it.
    Mercy.
    She laced her arm through the duke’s, and let him escort her downstairs, past the beaming maids, the smiling footmen, the giggling tweenie, and the silently nodding butler. All the while, Anselm remained quiet, inviting no comment from his staff, and Thea wondered why no one else had ever accused her of having a cat-in-the-cream-pot smile.
    For that matter, what was a cat-in-the-cream-pot smile?

Five

    Bloody double infernally dire damn.
    Noah made it through the house, his duchess swanning along beside him, and knew a profound relief when they reached the out-of-doors. Perhaps if he put a shire or two between his wife and himself, he might not feel so strongly the need for the pleasures he’d been denied the night before.
    He was used to waking in a state conducive to procreation, and had tended to himself before Thea had even opened her eyes.
    Tended to himself again .
    Rather than ease the ache, he’d only shortened the fuse on his ever-obliging lust, such that simply brushing Thea’s hair was