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“I don’t often have the occasion to feel so free,” Anne said. “Out here, with everyone so dedicated to their own pursuit of fun, I feel unnoticed, for once.”
“I suppose you often are the center of attention.”
“Everyone is always watching. They all seem to want something and are calculating how best to get it. Social prestige. Business favors. A mark of favor from the Hawthorne name can have an impact, and I try to always be sensitive to it.” She frowned at her coffee. “But the demands are never ending.”
“When you are with me, I promise you don’t have to worry about that,” Letty said softly.
“I know,” she said, smiling. “You see me as more than a duchess.”
“I have always seen you as a woman first.” Letty’s eyes were sincere, and her fingers brushed lightly against Anne’s inside the fur muff. “Duchess is a distant second.”
The wind picked up and Letty shifted, positioning her body to bear the brunt of it, sliding an arm behind Anne to steady her.
“Here you are, protecting me. Do not consider me unappreciative, but I wish to sit here as equals.” Yet her arm felt warm and secure, and she felt cozy.
Letty’s smile was slow and sly. “Oh, this isn’t because of your rank. It is most definitely because you are a woman who I am trying to impress. And not with my design skills.”
Anne smiled. This was the perfect end to the day, indeed.
Chapter Thirteen
Anne shivered in bed late that night. She was staying in one of the guest bedchambers on the second floor down the hall from the suite that Letty was renovating for her. Her usual bedchamber had a wardrobe that was kept stocked with extra blankets in case she had need of them, but it hadn’t occurred to her to ask a footman to move them to the guest room. The air tonight was too bitter to be cut with the fire, no matter how high the maid had stoked it before retiring for the night.
There was one alternative that kept teasing her.
The new bathtub.
Blinking into the night, as if she could see anything in the darkness, she marveled at the luxurious notion of turning the faucet and slipping into a warm bath. But when Letty had the hot water pipes installed, it couldn’t have been midnight baths she had in mind.
The very idea felt preposterous. Too indulgent even for a duchess.
But the more Anne thought about it, the more she wanted to yield. The true beauty of the new bathroom was that she needn’t bother anybody if she wished to make use of it. She wouldn’t be rousing a yawning chambermaid to heat pails of water, or arranging a pair of footmen to haul buckets upstairs to fill the bath. She wouldn’t have to wake her maid, who always helped wash her hair and toweled her dry after bathing.
She could be alone.
It wouldn’t do to hesitate, she told herself. A duchess had no need to deliberate over such a thing in her own home. She had every right to do as she pleased.
She flung off the covers, her skin prickling as she sought her dressing gown in the darkness. Lighting a candle helped her to find her slippers, and she walked down the hall and through her empty bedroom to the brand-new dressing room. She lit a few more tapers and placed them on the dresser and the table to brighten the room.
Letty had been right—the room was well-organized. She found bars of soap perfumed with her own lavender scent in the first drawer of the dresser. She ran her thumb against the letter pressed deep into each bar, feeling absurdly touched to see a fancifulAfor Anne instead of the customaryHfor Hawthorne which marked so many of her belongings.
One more tiny rebellion. Despite the cold, she felt warmth in her heart.
Everything looked simple enough that she could draw the bath herself, which was a novel thought, but of course Letty would be accustomed to thinking of ways that a single woman could do things alone. Anne rarely did for herself, and she had never in her life bathed alone without anyone in attendance.
The stopper went into the drain easily enough, and she remembered which tap was hot and which was cold. The stream of hot water flowing was a marvel. She sank to her knees onto the thick rug beside the tub and peered over the rim, letting the steam warm her face.
This was bliss, and she wasn’t even in the bath yet.
A rush of pleasure settled deep in her belly as she watched the water rise, the candlelight flickering on the surface. She remembered that her maid sprinkled drops of scented oil into her bath, and she went in search of the little vial to add a few drops to the water.
Such a little thing. But she was pleased to do it for herself.
She swept her hair away from her neck and secured it atop her head with a pin. She untied the sash of her dressing gown and folded it on a chair, and her chemise soon followed. There was a mirrorin the corner, and she caught sight of herself. Half in shadows, she stood still with her hair mussed, the golden kiss of candlelight dancing on her breasts and thighs.
She looked different. Not physically, though she didn’t often see her naked self in this light, and it was remarkably flattering. But the expression on her face was eager, her eyes bright with anticipation. She was poised and ready to submerge into the bath. Ready for pleasure.
It didn’t feel decent to stare at herself once she started to think of pleasure. Rather, she wished there were someone else here.
