“There’s no need?—”
“I insist.”
“I would be more than happy to help you into the dress, Your Grace,” the attended pipped up. “And there is no doubt you would look absolutely lovely.”
Lydia sighed, secretly happy, as a smile crept onto her face. “If you both insist…”
“Wonderful,” Archer claimed. “I’ll wait here.”
It did not take long for the attendant to help Lydia into the dress.
She paused at the curtain, hesitant to know what her husband would think. She felt slightly insecure.
“Your Grace,” the attendant whispered kindly. “You look stunning. I’m sure His Grace would love to see you in this dress.”
Lydia nodded, smiling. She took a deep breath and walked out into the sitting area, the attendant trailing after with the train gathered in her hands.
She walked around the chair to stand before Archer, her head lowered as she shyly awaited his reaction. When he said nothing, she glanced up, worry creeping in that it hadn’t pleased him.
He sat there, taking her in. His eyes roamed up and down as she shifted about nervously.
“Please say something. I can’t take much more of this silence. Is it that bad?”
“No.” His voice was hoarse, eyes full of that dark emotion from their wedding day.
Lydia felt his gaze on her as viscerally as if he had ran his hand across her skin. She looked nervously away as Archer circled her, reminding her of a hawk circling a mouse. She swallowed.
“Have you seen yourself?” Archer asked.
Lydia shook her head, and Archer led her to the full length mirror. Lydia struggled, unable to bring herself to look. “What if?—”
“Look Lydia. I promise, it will be worth it.” Archer’s voice was firm but gentle, calm but insistent.
Lydia took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. She gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. The woman before her was the most radiant person she had ever seen.
The dress made her height seem like an advantage, creating the illusion of elegance and grace even though Lydia felt anything but. Archer stood behind her, his handsome face dark with emotion that stirred the millions of butterflies within her stomach.
“You are gorgeous,” he breathed as he expectantly brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. His hands danced along the end of her cheek.
She finally looked up to meet his eyes and felt as though someone had her heart in a vice. “I did not think I could look like this.”
Archer let out a hoarse chuckle. But Lydia held up a finger to his lips. “Do not say ‘I told you so’. You will ruin the moment.”
His breath tickled her skin, and Archer nodded, clearing his throat. “I’ll get the dress paid for.”
Once Lydia returned with her dress packed in a nice little box, she sat down next to Archer, who was flipping through the catalogs once more. He did not hesitate to throw his arm around her again and cuddle up to her with a catalog resting in his lap.
“I didn’t get to do much shopping,” she said meekly, resting her head against his shoulder. “Even when my father was alive, and it was only ever for practical clothing. But after father got sick, I only ever had time to ask Mrs. McCallough for adjustments to my old dresses.”
He nodded. “From now on, you will buy only the latest dresses, and I demand you be as impractical as possible.” He played with a lock of her hair, twirling it between his fingers.
“You do that a lot,” Lydia noted.
“Hm?”
“Play with my hair.”
“Huh,” he said as he looked down at the strain in his fingers and kissed it. “I guess I just like your hair.” He tucked the strain back behind her ear. “If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”
