“I do not wish you to become ill for any reason, bargain or otherwise.”
I pulled the bedsheets around me. “Here I shall stay then.”
My mind snapped back to the present. I’d made little headway since then. In three months, I’d had three encounters with the former mistress of Blackmoore. She was testing the boundaries with me, determining what she could and could not do. With any luck, as our comfort with each other grew, I would glean some evidence about her demise.
Until then, I had other business to attend to. The dressing gong rang early. Given our travel plans, dressing would take place earlier than normal. I set my book aside and made my way to my bedroom.
Elsie met me there to begin the process. Elsie’s hair styling ability had improved considerably in the few months she attended me. Using a recently learned technique, she swept my hair up in a smart style. I commended her on the style as I pulled my gloves on. She spritzed perfume on my hair. Though unaccustomed to wearing such frivolities, I was adapting to the habits of ladies in my station.
After a glance in the mirror, I smoothed my skirts and navigated to the foyer. Buchanan awaited me, though Robert did not. I glanced at the grandfather clock that ticked away the time. Was I early?
“Your Grace,” Buchanan greeted me. “Duke Blackmoore has requested you meet him in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Buchanan,” I responded and made my way to the drawing room doors. I entered the room, lit mostly by the roaring fire. Robert sat in his usual chair, fireside. “Robert?” I questioned, drawing his attention. I wondered for a moment if he had changed his mind about attending.
“Lenora,” he said, standing and facing me. “Oh!”
I swallowed as his gaze fell on me, his eyebrows raising. “Is anything wrong? Is the dress inappropriate? I considered it perhaps too much, though Madame Worth assured me…”
“Yes, I would say something is wrong,” he interrupted. “I am quite sure every woman at the party will be eaten away with jealousy when they view you in this dress.”
I let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, is that all?” I quipped. “Buchanan informed me you wished me to meet you here.”
“Yes,” Robert answered, retrieving a box from the nearby table. “I have a gift for you. To mark the occasion.”
“A gift?” I inquired. “Thank you, though it was unnecessary.” He motioned for me to join him, and I approached him as he opened the box. My eyes widened at the contents. My jaw dropped open, and I clutched my stomach. “Robert!” Inside the box lay a jeweled necklace with a large yellow, teardrop-shaped stone in the middle surrounded by deep blue gems. Sparkling diamonds jutted from each side, forming the chain.
“Do you fancy it?” he inquired.
“Fancy it? It is absolutely stunning!” I glanced up to him, shaking my head. “It is too much. I cannot accept this.”
“Nonsense,” he quibbled, removing the necklace from the box. “Of course you can, and you will. You cannot deny your husband the opportunity to bestow such a gift. Turn around while I fasten it.”
Shock still coursed through me, but I complied with his request. He placed the necklace around my neck, its heavy coolness caressing my skin. “The large stone is a yellow sapphire, which I’m told is rare, but I was assured by Madame Worth that it would complement your dress. The smaller stones are traditional sapphires. Often, they are set to contrast their yellow cousins. The color reminds me of your eyes. And, of course, the diamonds, no woman should be without them.” He clasped the necklace. I grasped it between my thumb and forefinger, glancing down at it.
“You spoil me,” I murmured, turning back toward him.
“You are a duchess, you deserve to be spoiled. Now that your outfit is complete, shall we depart?” He held out his arm to escort me to don my cape and climb into the carriage.
During our journey, my hand found its way under my cape several times, my fingers grazing the necklace. I had never seen anything so ostentatious in my life, and certainly never expected to wear anything so extravagant.
We arrived at Lord Cunningham’s estate and were announced. The broadcasting of our names into the room reminded me how truly odd the situation remained in my mind. Lord and Lady Cunningham greeted us, making polite conversation before moving to another guest. We mingled with several guests and I was introduced to a plethora of people. I possess a good memory, which, at that moment, came in handy for the multitude of names, positions and peerage imparted to me in a short time.
As the dancing began, a wiry gentleman approached us. He appeared to be near to my husband’s age. Sir Richard Prescott shook Robert’s hand and Robert introduced him to me. “So,” he inquired, sipping his brandy, “you are the orphan with the special talent?”
My reputation preceded me, though I hadn’t expected it not to. However, the other guests had possessed enough good manners not to mention it, particularly in my husband’s presence. I opened my mouth to answer, but Robert responded first. “She is my wife, Sir Richard, beyond that is not your concern. Come, dear,” he retorted, guiding me away by the elbow.
I glanced behind me as Robert escorted me away. Sir Richard stared after us, his eyes narrowed as he followed our retreat across the room. We chatted with several others before two gentlemen stole Robert away to discuss some form of business. I remained in the company of several ladies.
As our group broke up, I made my way to the fringes of the room to await Robert’s return. As I watched the dancers twirl across the ballroom, Sir
