She felt the heat of embarrassment swarm over her face, over her body.
“How can you be so innocent?” Madame asked.
“I should probably go.” She didn’t know why she walked with such purpose, why she didn’t linger. Being back in his company meant she might indeed discover if he was a good lover—tonight. How much of a reprieve was he giving her?
Itwashim. He was studying the bolts of cloth again. He held his hat in one hand, had removed his glove from the other, and was rubbing red silk between his fingers and thumb. His movements were so incredibly slow, as though he was savoring the sensation of each thread as he touched it. Would theirs be a leisurely mating? Would he relish the feel of her skin as much as he did the cloth?
Ever so casually he glanced over, his lids half lowered as though he wanted to shutter his thoughts, not that she would have been able to read them anyway. “Are you finished with the measurements?”
“We are, my lord,” Madame said, and Eve could have sworn that Rafe cringed, although the change to his expression happened so quickly that had she not been focused on him, she’d have not seen it.
And why was it that she seemed incapable of taking her eyes from him?
He was as handsome as ever, but something had changed. She couldn’t quite figure it out. It had to do with his mood. Angry? Frustrated? Disappointed? Would she ever learn to read him, to determine what he thought, what he felt?
“I have some designs in mind for your lady—”
And again there was that quick contortion of his features.
“—that I could share with you now,” Madame said. “If you have the time.”
“Yes, I’d like to get this matter finished as quickly as possible.”
Madame brought over sheaves of paper, and while they discussed patterns with their back to her as though her opinion was of no importance, she wandered over to the chair before the window where a true lady had been sitting earlier. She glanced out on the street, on people bustling by, going places, doing as they pleased, making their decisions.
Her father had told her to never envy anyone anything because she would never know what price they had paid for whatever she was envying. But at that moment it was very difficult not to covet the freedom to go about life as one pleased. She had no control over what she would wear, what it would look like, the shade of the material. She had no choice as to where she would live. She had no say in when she would be bedded—or evenhowshe would be bedded, because he had rules. He governed all.
Perhaps shewouldbe disagreeable. At the very least she could be unenthusiastic.
“I’m ready to leave.”
Startled, she looked out on the darkness and wondered when night had fallen. Glancing up at him, for a brief moment, she could have sworn that he looked as sad as she felt.
With a nod, she rose. He didn’t offer his arm, but merely led her out of the shop. She wasn’t good enough to touch in public. Perhaps she would be fortunate, and he would decide she wasn’t good enough to touch in private either.
The footman assisted her into the carriage while Rafe spoke to the driver. The carriage rocked as he climbed inside, sitting across from her. Then the conveyance was rattling along. She stared out the window, much safer than staring at him. She didn’t want him to think that he intrigued her with his quicksilver expressions, his caustic moods, his ability to know exactly what he wanted and to never doubt himself. She doubted so much. Doubted that she could do this.
“She intends to charge you triple,” she said quietly.
“I thought she might.”
She’d expected anger not amusement to accompany his reply. She peered over at him. “You don’t sound at all bothered by it.”
“I can hardly blame her when I practically forced her into doing my bidding at the expense of some highborn lady who might very well find herself without a new gown to wear to a ball.”
“She referred to you as a lost lord.”
He was the one to look out the window now. With the little bit of illumination filtering in from the gaslights, she could see his jaw clench, his eyes narrow. “We shan’t talk about that, Eve.”
She interlaced her fingers. She wanted to know about his past, to know what had shaped him into the man he was. Why did his servants not refer to him as my lord? Why did he have a gambling establishment? He should be like Geoffrey. A man of leisure.
Then she thought,Thank God he isn’t like Geoffrey.
“What shall we talk about then?” she asked.
“We shan’t talk at all. That’s not why you’re with me.”
“But if we don’t know anything at all about each other, it’s going to be incredibly awkward, don’t you think?” She didn’t want to sound mulish but she didn’t want her body to be the only thing about her with which he was familiar.
