The Girl in the Steel Corset - By Kady Cross Page 0,52
in a classic defensive posture, but he couldn’t help but ask, “How so?”
“Sam and Emily you can pass off as employees, but the way you look at Miss Jayne…well, I can tell you’re attracted to her.”
Griffin’s cheeks heated. “What of it?”
His aunt took a step closer. “Show her attention, and people will talk. They will assume that there is something sordid between you—especially while she lives under your roof. She is in your protection, Griffin. You do not want to take advantage of that, or be seen to do so. Her reputation will be forever damaged.” Her expression was one of sympathy. “She’s not for you, my dear.”
It was one of those times when Griffin wanted to act like a spoiled brat—stomp his foot and declare that he was a duke and he could do whatever he damn well pleased. But that would be too selfish. Of course he could do what he wanted, but it would be Finley who suffered for it.
He hooked his thumbs under the braces hanging loosely around his hips and lifted them over his shoulders over his partially open shirt. “You’ve never been one for proprieties, Aunt Delia. Why now?”
Her strong features softened with sadness. “Because I want to see you happily settled one day with a normal girl rather than one who might get you killed, or worse—leave you without a trace, wondering what happened to her. If she’s alive or dead, safe or in pain.”
It was impossible to be angry with her when she spoke so candidly about her own life. She did not want for him the misery she lived every day, wondering if her husband was alive or dead. Holding on to hope when doing so must surely be folly.
Griffin hugged her, suddenly realizing how much taller he was than she, that the woman he’d always thought so amazingly powerful felt small and fragile in his arms. “I promise you I will be careful with my affections, but beyond that I can offer nothing else. I cannot tell my heart what to feel.”
Were it but that easy, he would tell his foolish heart to shut out all thoughts of Finley Jayne, because it was painfully obvious that her heart was engaged elsewhere.
She had a little over an hour before Jack Dandy arrived to collect her, and Finley stood in her bedroom in nothing but a short silk shift using curling tongs on her hair. Her time as a lady’s maid certainly came in handy for getting ready for an evening. She could have asked one of the housemaids to help her, but why bother when she was more than capable of doing the same job herself?
Besides, she didn’t want to give Griffin any more reason to be angry with her. He had barely spoken to her since breakfast.
Since Jack’s gift arrived.
Her gaze went to the costume hanging on her wardrobe door. Even in the dim light of her room, the feathers reflected the most beautiful colors.
Propriety told her to send it back and politely refuse Dandy’s attentions and invitation, but she wanted to go so very badly. And she wanted Griffin to see her before she left so he could see how she looked in such a beautiful creation. Was that wrong of her? Undoubtedly, but that didn’t stop her from silently wishing for it all the same.
Lifting the tongs from the pretty matching heater her mother had given her on her previous birthday, Finley fitted the last uncurled lock of her hair between the barrel and curved clamp and quickly rolled it. She took care to ensure she didn’t get it too close to her scalp. She might heal quickly, but that didn’t mean a burn wouldn’t hurt.
A few moments later, she released her hair from the tongs and a perfect ringlet joined the others she’d made. Then she plucked up her brush to smooth the front and began arranging curls—some still warm—into the style she wanted, pinning them in place. By the time she was done, curls cascaded down her back from high on her head while a few others framed her face in delicate spirals. Perfect—except for that strange patch of black. Was it longer?
Finley was just about to tackle her pretty black lace corset when a knock sounded upon her door.
“Who is it?” she called, quickly reaching for her robe and slipping her arms through the sleeves.
“Emily,” came the muffled reply. “I have something for you.”