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Authors: Celeste Bradley
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down the last few steps to join her in the entrance hall. His scowl darkened as he loomed over her, gazing down at her decolletage.
"You are not decent. Put something else on."
"This gown is the only thing I have that will do." Coolly, Agatha turned back to the mirror. Now that she thought about it, she had seen much lower necklines in the fashion sheets. "Frankly, I do not think it is so very daring. I imagine town ladies wear such things routinely."
Simon had to admit that Agatha was correct in that. Her gown was not so very daring, but her body was.
He couldn't take his eyes off the lush white breasts that threatened to spill from her gown. Well, truly, they weren't so much spilling as they were tempting him to spill them.
Nonetheless, Agatha needn't flaunt her charms to every man in London. It was damned distracting.
That was it. He had important business to conduct this evening and he couldn't afford the distraction of defending her from the lecherous stares she would surely incite.
"Change at once," he commanded.
Agatha ruffled. If Simon thought that would do it, he was sadly mistaken. No one told her how to behave. Not her father, not even Jamie. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"I'm going as I am." She turned to signal Pearson. "Please bring the carriage around."
Pearson stepped forward, bearing her wrap.
"Then you will go without me." Simon smiled a not very nice smile. "I seem to have developed the headache."
Oh, blast. Simon was standing firm. Spare her from men standing firm. Agatha smiled back, a very sweet smile with daggers drawn.
"Pearson, do fetch my husband a powder for his poor aching head." That last was hissed from between teeth still clenched in a smile.
When she turned to the door, Simon put his hand on her arm. "Agatha, in truth, it is not wise to go out like that." His tone was calmer now, less autocratic. "Isn't there any way to cover your… to raise the neckline slightly? A bit of lace, perhaps?"
Agatha stopped. Hadn't she been thinking the very thing before Simon had come down? The man had a way of making her forget what she was about.
She ought to keep her wits about her tonight and not let herself be distracted by the way Simon's gaze had trouble staying on her face.
"Perhaps you are right. I shall be back down in a moment," said Agatha grudgingly, and started up the stairs.
It was almost worth conceding the point when she glanced back to see Pearson handing a paper packet of Papa's foul-tasting headache powder to an unenthusiastic Simon.
----
Chapter Seven
As Simon helped Agatha from their carriage before the elegant Winchell home, she shook out her skirts but never let a single breath interrupt her lecture.
"Now, remember, the precise bowing depth depends on the lady's rank. When introduced to a Mrs., bowing halfway will do. With a Lady, it cannot hurt to dip deeply. Even if you go a bit far, it will only seem flattering, especially if you use one of the phrases I taught you."
Simon gritted his teeth, his patience shredded. It had taken nearly an hour to navigate the crowded London streets, and Agatha had nagged throughout the entire journey.
"Darling,
a
wife
really shouldn't lecture her dear
husband
in public." He cast a meaningful look at the couples being disgorged from their carriages around them. "One would not want to appear the shrew, would one?"
With a fixed smile, he firmly wrapped her hand around his arm and towed her into the line that was now forming at the door of the luxurious house.
"Oh. I apologize,
darling.
Thank you for reminding me,
darling.
One certainly would not,
darling."
Agatha glared at him.
Simon only bared his teeth at her. "If you don't let up, I shall strangle you. After two weeks of your correcting my every word, criticizing my every move, and scrutinizing every bloody breath I take—"
"Gentlemen do not say 'bloody' in the company of a lady," Agatha pointed out primly.
"One more word and there will be
no one
in my company except a
"You are not decent. Put something else on."
"This gown is the only thing I have that will do." Coolly, Agatha turned back to the mirror. Now that she thought about it, she had seen much lower necklines in the fashion sheets. "Frankly, I do not think it is so very daring. I imagine town ladies wear such things routinely."
Simon had to admit that Agatha was correct in that. Her gown was not so very daring, but her body was.
He couldn't take his eyes off the lush white breasts that threatened to spill from her gown. Well, truly, they weren't so much spilling as they were tempting him to spill them.
Nonetheless, Agatha needn't flaunt her charms to every man in London. It was damned distracting.
That was it. He had important business to conduct this evening and he couldn't afford the distraction of defending her from the lecherous stares she would surely incite.
"Change at once," he commanded.
Agatha ruffled. If Simon thought that would do it, he was sadly mistaken. No one told her how to behave. Not her father, not even Jamie. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"I'm going as I am." She turned to signal Pearson. "Please bring the carriage around."
Pearson stepped forward, bearing her wrap.
"Then you will go without me." Simon smiled a not very nice smile. "I seem to have developed the headache."
Oh, blast. Simon was standing firm. Spare her from men standing firm. Agatha smiled back, a very sweet smile with daggers drawn.
"Pearson, do fetch my husband a powder for his poor aching head." That last was hissed from between teeth still clenched in a smile.
When she turned to the door, Simon put his hand on her arm. "Agatha, in truth, it is not wise to go out like that." His tone was calmer now, less autocratic. "Isn't there any way to cover your… to raise the neckline slightly? A bit of lace, perhaps?"
Agatha stopped. Hadn't she been thinking the very thing before Simon had come down? The man had a way of making her forget what she was about.
She ought to keep her wits about her tonight and not let herself be distracted by the way Simon's gaze had trouble staying on her face.
"Perhaps you are right. I shall be back down in a moment," said Agatha grudgingly, and started up the stairs.
It was almost worth conceding the point when she glanced back to see Pearson handing a paper packet of Papa's foul-tasting headache powder to an unenthusiastic Simon.
----
Chapter Seven
As Simon helped Agatha from their carriage before the elegant Winchell home, she shook out her skirts but never let a single breath interrupt her lecture.
"Now, remember, the precise bowing depth depends on the lady's rank. When introduced to a Mrs., bowing halfway will do. With a Lady, it cannot hurt to dip deeply. Even if you go a bit far, it will only seem flattering, especially if you use one of the phrases I taught you."
Simon gritted his teeth, his patience shredded. It had taken nearly an hour to navigate the crowded London streets, and Agatha had nagged throughout the entire journey.
"Darling,
a
wife
really shouldn't lecture her dear
husband
in public." He cast a meaningful look at the couples being disgorged from their carriages around them. "One would not want to appear the shrew, would one?"
With a fixed smile, he firmly wrapped her hand around his arm and towed her into the line that was now forming at the door of the luxurious house.
"Oh. I apologize,
darling.
Thank you for reminding me,
darling.
One certainly would not,
darling."
Agatha glared at him.
Simon only bared his teeth at her. "If you don't let up, I shall strangle you. After two weeks of your correcting my every word, criticizing my every move, and scrutinizing every bloody breath I take—"
"Gentlemen do not say 'bloody' in the company of a lady," Agatha pointed out primly.
"One more word and there will be
no one
in my company except a
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