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“Several?”
“Define ‘several’.”
He eased the top of her gown down her arms. It pooled at her feet. She watched in the mirror as he untied her petticoats next.
“Four or more?”
“Or more, certainly.”
The petticoats fell to the ground. She blushed at the sight of herself in chemise and corset. He began to unlace her corset without effort.
“Should not a man of your stature be seeking a wife instead of indulging in prurient interests?” she asked, averting her eyes from the mirror.
“Should not a woman of your situation be seeking a husband instead of gambling at a gaming hell?” he returned.
She bristled. “I asked first.”
“A wife is easy enough to attain. I see no reason to rush.”
How she wished she could claim the same of a husband!
“I am earning my dowry, if you will, at the gaming hell.”
Clever response, she praised herself.
“You require a husband with funds, not a man in search of a dowry.”
She pursed her lips at his obvious statement, which made quick work of her smugness.
“It is no easy matter to find a man with funds and possessing a decent character.”
“Especially in a gaming hell.”
Their dialogue was proving quite effective, for now anger trumped all that she felt. To her surprise, tears threatened. She was well aware that her current finances necessitated her spending time in a gaming hell, which dimmed her marital prospects and future security.
“You see the irony of my situation then,” she replied with an edge. “I have not the fortune to have been born into the ton or with a bounty of assets at my disposal.”
The corset dropped from her.
“I beg to differ,” Rockwell said.
She saw herself wearing only her chemise, stockings and garters.
He slid the sleeve of the chemise down a shoulder and kissed her there. “You have remarkable assets.”
He gripped the flimsy fabric and tore it in twain down the front, exposing her breasts, her abdomen, her pelvis. She gasped and stared at the mirror in shock. Modesty finally set in and she looked away. As if his words had not riled her enough, he had to destroy her chemise as well?
“I will compensate you for your loss, but look in the mirror, Deana.”
She should chastise him for the familiar use of her name, but she fixed her concentration upon the ground.
“Look,” he ordered in a tone she found difficult to disobey.
She moved her gaze to the mirror.
“You are lovely.”
He pulled the torn garment from her and circled his arms around to cup her breasts.
