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“Phlegmatic ailments,” she muttered. “Really? You think that’s a scintillating topic of conversation? Pah.” She removed her shawl and folded it carefully, setting it on the low bench that flanked the wall closest to the door. “And beds. Let’s talk about beds, shall we? Do you often picture ducal beds?”
Her mimicry of his voice nearly made him laugh aloud. He’d managed to get under her skin in the same way she had lodged under his. It was good to know that the feeling was mutual.
“Why did he have to be so handsome?” Miss Penny peeled off her gloves and set them atop the shawl. “And that delicious almond-y scent of his. I can still smell it in the air. I have to stop thinking of him.” She removed the garland of white and pink silk flowers from her hair and flung it to the floor. “Damn all dukes to a specially created duke hell.”
She grabbed a spade from the wall and used it to open the bench seat. She reached inside. What the dickens was she doing?
“Replaceable. I’ll show him who’s irreplaceable.”
She knelt down on the wooden floor of the shed in front of the bench, in her pristine white gown, and reached inside, bringing up a linen-wrapped parcel.
She stood up and unwrapped the parcel. Lantern light caught shimmering scarlet silk.
A gown by the looks of the bows and frills.
She hugged the gown to her breast. “There you are, my beauty. You’re not replaceable in the least.”
Mystified, all Drew could do was watch as she danced a few steps of a waltz with the dress as her limp partner.
She set the gown on top of the bench. And then she did something truly unexpected.
She began unfastening the white dress she wore.
“Demure,” she said as she unhooked the back of her gown, twisting and contorting to reach the buttons. “Charming and countrified.” Another button. “Biddable and decorous.” The gown slipped down her shoulders.
He should turn away. Stare at the wall. Stare at anything other than the smooth expanse of flesh she’d just revealed.
“I am. None. Of. Those. Things.” Each word meant another button undone.
He couldn’t look away now. The sight of her captivated him. Her hair escaping her coiffure and falling around her face. She bit her lip, twisting her torso to reach the final buttons.
Every loosened button made her gown slip lower.
He really should leave. If only there was a back exit out of the shed. If he revealed himself now, she would be mortified.
She wriggled and danced. “Devil take it,” she swore. The last button was giving her trouble.
Do you require a hand with that?he nearly asked.
Finally the gown came loose. She tugged it over her head and tossed it aside.
She reached inside her bodice and plumped one breast higher over her corset and chemise. Then did the same on the other side.
Blood raced away from his brain and made a rush on his cock.
She had beautiful breasts. Lush and full for her slight frame.
He shouldn’t be looking at her breasts, but damn it, he’d come to this shed first and he’d come here to escape from all the scrutiny.
A terrible thought struck him—what if she was preparing for a tryst? He could be stuck here while MissPenny and her lover, the lucky bastard, made use of the garden shed.
Then he would feel like a complete lecher. He had to say something. He had to stop her from disrobing any further. There was only one honorable course of action.
Spying on a young lady changing clothing was not good form.
Though this was his garden shed. OnhisLondon estate. Athisball.
Who was the trespasser here?
