And then he flipped open the lid.
She gaped in astonishment. A dozen ladies’ bonnets, ranging from stylish to garish, piled one atop the other. Some boasted a profusion of ribbons or ostrich feathers or wax grapes or the occasional stuffed parrot. One of the bonnets bore no decoration at all.
She pointed at it. “What’s that one?”
“A choice.” He gave a self-conscious little laugh. “If youlikeplain, then by all means wear it. The only thing I’m trying to give you is the power to choose.”
She touched her chest, her throat suddenly dry and her eyes stinging.
Wasn’t this what she had longed for: the ability to decide whether others noticed her? To control what others saw when they looked at her?
The bonnets were all so different. Plain, fancy, tasteful, gaudy, symmetrical, unconventional. Faircliffe didn’t see just one thing when he looked at her. He understood she was all of these things and none of these things, conflicted and complex, a whole person with changing humors and multiple needs and desires.
He didn’t see a pseudonym or a mask or a blank slate. He saw Chloe. And he wanted her to see herself, tobeherself. To have this room as a safe place. To have him as both her protector and partner in crime. Or rather, partner in silliness.
No one outside of family had ever seen her so clearly. She should feel naked and discomfited.
Instead, she felt inexplicably, completely at home.
“If you hate these options…” He transferred bonnets onto every surface until he exposed a cornucopia of motley accoutrements at the bottom of the trunk. “Most items are held on with pins,” he explained earnestly. “If you want all of the birds on one bonnet, you can do so. Feel free to be as creative as you please.”
He gazed uncertainly at her, visibly holding his breath. His shoulder twitched as if every muscle coiled with nervous energy.
How did he not realize just how perfect his gift was?
She reached for an oddly fascinating bonnet with the greatest number of adornments pinned at all angles and placed it on her head. The weight of a white-necked pheasant caused it to list precariously to one side. A hunk of blue ribbon uncoiled from the clump of flowers on the brim to dangle before her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” His cheeks flushed pink. “I may have decorated that one.”
“I adore it.” She wanted to hug it to her chest. She wanted to hughimand squeeze him tight. “It’s my favorite of them all. Is there a looking glass?”
“Yes. Yes, there is.” He leapt from his seat and hurried out of the door.
It was then that Chloe realized that this drawing room no longer bore the light-reflecting mirrors indicated on Tommy’s maps. Was that why she’d been brought here today: because Faircliffe had removed them in deference toher? To ensure that every seat in the chamber would be one she’d feel comfortable in? She touched a hand to her throat.
The duke rushed back into the parlor bearing a hand mirror. One that could easily be turned facedown on any surface if she decided she was no longer interested in glimpsing her reflection.
She lifted the handle high and angled the glass to face her. A startled laugh burbled out of her chest, delighted and joyful. She looked absolutely, positively ridiculous. A peacock would be ashamed to make such a display.
Chloe had never loved a hat more in all her life.
She turned to Faircliffe. “You know the laws, do you not? What are the rules regarding a woman marrying her favorite bonnet?”
Faircliffe’s entire body relaxed in obvious relief. He affected a serious expression. “As long as no one objects during the reading of the banns, and the bonnet agrees to a ceremony in the Church of England…”
She couldn’t contain her grin as she nudged the trunk in his direction. “Your turn, good sir. Which frippery is yours?”
“Which frippery,Your Grace,” he corrected sternly before selecting an oversized bonnet sprouting flowers and feathers. He waved his fingers in the direction of his white neckcloth. “Does this match my cravat?”
“It does not,” she informed him gravely.
He placed the bonnet on his head anyway. “Pity.”
She supposed he should look preposterous, but she couldn’t possibly be more charmed by his boyish smile and cheerful silliness.
This was whohereally was, when he wasn’t trying so hard to be a perfect duke: delightful, approachable, irresistible. She wanted to grab the ribbons of his outlandish bonnet and kiss him for days. She wanted to wear the one he’d made for her for the rest of her life.
She touched the brim of her hat with trembling fingers. “Did you really decorate this one yourself?”
