Page 105 of A Duchess for his Family

Instead, she heard herself speak. “Would you help me?”

Benedict became completely still. “With what?”

Sophia’s courage nearly abandoned her. Heat rose from the base of her throat to her cheeks. She turned slightly and gestured, with as much composure as the situation permitted, toward the row of unyielding buttons.

“My gown.”

His gaze followed the movement. The silence that followed seemed to deepen.

“The buttons are caught,” Sophia explained quickly. “Jenny has retired, and I did not wish to summon her again merely for this. I have tried several times, but they appear determined to remain where they are.”

Benedict stared at the back of the gown. Sophia could see the effort of his composure in the tightening of his jaw. It occurred to her rather late that asking one’s husband to undo one’s gown might possess implications not usually associated with simple household assistance. Her embarrassment sharpened.

“Of course, you need not,” she added hastily. “It was a foolish request. I shall ring after all.”

“No.” The answer came abruptly. “I mean, it is not foolish.” He cleared his throat. “I can assist you.”

Sophia stepped aside, and Benedict entered. The door remained open behind him, though the corridor beyond was deserted and dark. Sophia was not certain whether this made the situation more proper or merely gave propriety a vantage point from which to observe their failure.

She set the botanical volume upon a small table. The book’s title gleamed faintly in gold upon the spine. Neither of them looked at it.

Sophia moved to stand before the dressing table. The looking glass reflected them both. Benedict stopped behind her. For a moment, their eyes met in the glass. Sophia’s wrapper concealed most of the gown from the front, but the loose arrangement of her hair left her neck bare. Benedict’s height and broad shoulders seemed to fill the room behind her.

She turned her back to him. For several moments, neither spoke. The mantel clock ticked. The fire gave a quiet settling sigh. Somewhere far beyond the windows, a night bird called once across the gardens. Sophia could hear Benedict breathing.

His fingers touched the first button. Her shoulders stiffened.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“No.”

Her voice was scarcely more than breath. He worked the pearl carefully through its loop. His hands were made for reins, estate papers, and decisions affecting hundreds of lives. Sophia watched them move with certainty over ledgers and close protectively around the twins’ smaller fingers. Now those same hands rested at the back of her gown.

The first button slipped free. The silk loosened slightly across her shoulders. Benedict moved to the second. His touch remained entirely proper. He touched only pearl, fabric, and the narrow loop holding the gown closed. Sophia felt each movement as though his fingertips rested directly upon her skin.

The second button came undone, then the third. The loosened edges of the gown parted slightly at her nape. Cool air touched the narrow strip of skin revealed beneath her hair.

Benedict stopped. Sophia raised her eyes to the looking glass. His gaze had fallen to the exposed line at the top of her spine. For one suspended heartbeat, he did not move. His expression was unlike anything Sophia had seen upon his face in company. His usual control remained, but it had become strained, as though held in place by will alone.

Then his eyes lifted to hers. The look that passed between them was so intense that Sophia forgot to breathe.

Benedict returned his attention to the buttons. The fourth resisted. His fingers worked patiently at the loop. One knuckle brushed the center of her back through the thin silk, and heat rushed through Sophia with such sudden force that her hands tightened against the edge of the dressing table.

“You were correct,” he said in a voice that was lower than usual.

“About what?”

“The buttons. They are stubborn.”

Sophia attempted a laugh. “I am relieved to have my judgment confirmed.”

The sound emerged unsteadily. Benedict’s fingers paused. She saw his eyes close briefly in the glass. Neither spoke of it.

He freed the fourth button, then the fifth. With each one, the gown loosened fractionally. Benedict held its two sides together with one hand while undoing the next, careful not to expose more of her than necessity required.

The consideration made the intimacy infinitely worse. Had he behaved carelessly, Sophia might have been shocked back into composure. Instead, every restrained movement reminded her that he was acutely aware of what he was doing.

His hand shifted lower. Sophia’s pulse leaped. She tried to occupy her thoughts with ordinary things. The fire required another log. She had to remember to return Amelia’s ribbon. The new botanical volume appeared very handsome upon the table.