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“I don’t have any secrets.” Her voice shook a little at the lie. “And the very idea that I’d behave in such a manner... I have a good mind to tell Thad you asked that.” She forced open the door. “Perhaps I will.” With as much dignity as she could muster, she straightened her stance. “I should get dressed. Or someone should assist me in getting dressed.” She peeked over her shoulder at him.
David’s eyes grew so wide it was a wonder they didn’t pop from his sockets. “Wait, I thought I was just cleaning up the dead animal. No one said anything about helping you dress. Can’t you do that yourself either?”
Men. With their plain trousers and simple undergarments. She teetered back and forth on her toes. “I can put on my stockings, bloomers, and camisole. I need help with the corset and gown—which is four pieces actually. It’s quite complicated. I can probably tie the bustle myself though that comes after the corset and it’s easier if someone else does. Also, lacing my boots once I get the corset on is a bit difficult. After the corset is in place, it’s hard for me to see anything below my waist.”
“You’d be nude?” The horror on David’s face stung. “Thad would like that less than you insinuating I agreed with the person making the threats.” He clucked his tongue and had the nerve to shudder.
But he made a point. Her brother probably expected daily telegraphs. With details.
“I’d be more covered than I am now.” She steeled herself to enter the room and not look down too much. “Just turn around for a few minutes and busy yourself with cleaning.”
From the amount of blood, lots of cleaning. She swallowed.
“This seems like a bad idea.” David grumbled something else, but he still followed and moved towards where they’d left the head. Disgusting. She’d make sure he washed his hands in the basin before touching her. Maybe perfume them as well.
“Just focus on your task and I’ll focus on mine and when you’re finished, I’ll be still covered up enough that Thad won’t ride in from Delaware and skewer you.” She moved far away from his area and towards the bureau housing her fresh, clean, pretty things.
“You have a rather violent imagination.” David rustled around behind her before swinging open the door and exiting. Presumably to dispose of the corpse for good.
Amalia squinted around the room and her body relaxed.
Yes. Clean and all evidence of the prior night was gone. She shimmied a little as she slipped her nightgown over her head before stuffing it back into the brass-studded chest. Someone would fold and properly pack later. Organization was not her strongest suit.
She yanked open a lower drawer. Undergarments, undergarments. Which ones? Even if he didn’t care, she needed some sort of cheer.
The satin camisole? She thumbed the petal-soft edge of the garment. So pretty. And it had such shiny beads which attracted the eye...they’d get crushed by the corset but beneath she’d be perfect. At least as perfect as someone like her could be.
Amalia’s fingers flexed and twitched above her choices. Perhaps she’d use short bloomers, with extra ruffles, and the sheerest of her petticoats.
She smoothed the material. All she needed now was a bustle—not too large to get in the way but enough to give her a proper shape like...she snatched the perfect choice, held the object to her front and leaned back, the brass handles from the drawers pressing into her skin.
A rapping at the door.
Her skin prickled and she shivered, but not from cold.
“You may come in.” She used her best, most sophisticated lady voice.
Twenty-four, she was twenty-four, almost twenty-five and not sixteen and angling for a kiss or...other things...and he was going to dress her, not the opposite...
David’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he twisted his fingers. “So I—”
Her breath hitched. The flicker was faint, but present in his gaze. Nervous wonderment? Anticipation? Or at least a memory of the things they’d done together because no one could deny that they sparkled in that area of their relationship.
The twinge of power that’d given her and could give her now, at least for a moment, when everything else was so frustrating, was just too tempting. She swished her hips again, before turning and flinging her hair over her shoulder so he could have full access to the ties. “Lace up the back. As tight as you can. Don’t be afraid to hurt me.”
He groaned a little but didn’t move. “Amalia—”
She backed up so near she brushed his trousers with her bottom—her actual, un-bustled bottom. Amalia worked to suppress the delightful tingles in her skin and focus. She had to hold the power, not give it to him. “If it isn’t tight enough, I won’t be able to button the gown. Tight.” Honestly. She wouldn’t bite. Though come to think of it, she wouldn’t exactly mind a little nip from him. Especially on her ear.
Amalia pinched her side. Not going to happen. She needed confidence for the discussion with her parents, not muddle and certainly not to be transformed into a giggling ninny.
“Fine.” David’s voice was gruff but he picked up her laces. She bent forward and clutched the top of the bureau. This really would be a good position for...no. Control, Amalia.
And ugh, he was being gentle. This is why men couldn’t wear corsets. They didn’t have the stomach. She’d never fit into anything at this rate. “Tighter.”
“You’re bossy, you know that?” But he still did as directed. A bit. He really needed to put his back into it.
“I am not. We’re running out of time. We’re nearing Pittsburgh and the transfer is short.” Honestly. Amalia leaned farther so he could get some leverage. “Really hard and tight.”
