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And yet, her nerves were singing, and the warm afterglow of her pleasure was humming through her like a familiar song long unheard. Neither could she deny that he was easy to look at. And when he chose to be, he was quite charming.
His declaration had made her heart stutter a little in her chest and inspired a warmth was entirely different from the soft afterglow that suffused her following the pleasure Arthur had given her.
Want to or not... I fear I am falling for him.
The knowledge sent conflicting flickers of joy and fear darting through her, a counterpoint to her feelings regarding what they had just done.
I promised myself that I would not fall prey to lust with another man of the ton.
And yet she was. Only a month after Arthur’s initial attempt and not even a day after his proposal. She knew that some might argue that the proposal was promise enough to permit certain liberties, but she still could not trust the reality of it after the joke of its initial presentation.
And there was still the matter of Lydia. When Arthur had talked of the marriage as a mere formality, it had been easy to think of leaving regularly to see her daughter and keeping two parts of her life separate. But if he wished for a marriage in truth rather than in name…
Would Arthur accept her or still want her if he knew of Lydia? Would he love her daughter if they became a family, or would he will her to choose between them?
If that was the case, there would be no choice for her.
She had been walking toward the stairs, moving away from the private apartments out of long habit, when the Dowager’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Nora, darling.”
She turned obediently to face Abigail, her cheeks heating as she remembered what had transpired only a few moments prior.
If the Dowager noticed, she gave no indication. “I have sent round to the dressmaker, and she will be here within the hour. Her selections on such short notice will be limited, but I trust we shall be able to find something suitable.”
“Thank you.” She swallowed hard, feeling again the clinging, sticky, drying liquid between her thighs. “I... forgive me, I find myself needing to freshen up…” She trailed off.
Before, she would have used the designated rooms in the servant quarters. But having accepted Arthur’s proposal made her feel terribly uncertain.
The Dowager’s expression softened. “I see. And of course... Arthur has the Duke’s quarters, but I do not think the Duchess’s suite has been touched since I moved into the Dowager’s apartments.” She moved off toward the closed doors. “Come, my dear. We’ll see what needs to be done, then for today, you may use my dressing room for whatever you need.”
The thought of taking care of her needs in the Dowager’s dressing room was enough to make her cheeks burn again, but she concealed her blush with a nod as she followed the Dowager toward the rooms that would be hers soon.
The rooms were a short distance from the Duke’s apartments, and the door yielded easily to the Dowager’s hand. Inside, most of the furniture had been shrouded to keep the dust away, though Nora could see where some of it, like the Dowager’s dressing table, had been transferred to the her apartments.
Missing items and shrouds aside, the rooms were beautifully laid out and appointed with the best quality of furniture and décor. Abigail looked them over and made a soft, noncommittal noise. “Well, a bit of dusting and freshening up, and I daresay they will do well. You will, of course, have to inform Bradstone of any changes you might wish to make.”
She couldn’t even think of such things, not now. Something of her feelings must have shown on her face because Abigail smiled and patted her cheek gently. “Not to worry. Plenty of time for that, my dear. Come, we’ll wait for the seamstress in my apartments.”
Nora nodded and followed, her head spinning with the realization of the changes she was facing. Two years ago, she had helped with closing up the Duchess’s rooms when Abigail had declared she was moving into the Dowager wing.
In a short time, she would be living in those same rooms. Wearing day dresses, evening gowns, and walking gowns, a whole wardrobe of a quality and quantity that her previous family would envy.
She clenched her hands into the folds of her skirt to calm herself as she followed Abigail into the older woman’s rooms.
In Abigail’s dressing room, she used the basin of water and a cloth to clean up as well as she could. It wasn’t perfect, but when she finally emerged, her thighs were no longer sticky, and her chemise was as neat and unstained as she could make it.
The seamstress arrived some minutes later with two assistants, arms full of dress boxes and measures and tools of her trade. Nora found herself escorted to stand on a small stool while measurements were taken and fabrics whirled around her. After a timeless interval, a gown of soft muslin and silk in blue was selected and fitted to her with expert movements.
Nora gave her opinion where it was asked and moved or stood still as directed, doing her best to act in keeping with the role of a young maid being elevated to an unaccustomed status and receiving the treatment offered to a young lady of standing for the first time.
It was not a difficult role to assume. It had, after all, been years since she had been a lady of any standing. Even then, she had not been anything so high-ranked as a Duchess, nor had she truly aspired to such a title. Not as the younger daughter of a country lord who rarely left his estates.
Finally, the seamstress left, promising the finished gown would be delivered in plenty of time for the dinner. Nora made her excuses and departed as soon after as it was polite to do so, citing her interrupted errands of the day and her need to get home and attend to her chores. Abigail dismissed her with a fond smile and a wave, reminding her to return no later than mid-afternoon to prepare for the dinner.
Nora agreed, then made her way out to where the carriage was already waiting.
She did not encounter Arthur as she left and could not decide, as she settled into her seat and the carriage began to move, whether that fact made her happy or not.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
