“Of course I’ve worn dresses,” she snapped. “Oh, thank God.” Her voice was suddenly louder and clearer.
He heard her inhale deeply. She would’ve made her way up and through all that fabric, then.
“But this . . .” She paused, and Rollo heard more rustling. “Well, you can’t expect me to do all these buttons by myself.”
He’d seen the dozens of tiny fabric buttons running up the back of the dress. He just hadn’t realized their import until now. Of course she’d need help. Women needed the assistance of maids to get ready.
“I . . .” he stammered. “You . . .”
“Come on, Will. I’m decent. I just need you to button this thing up for me.”
Will. She’d called him Will.
Women in his acquaintance were generally more formal. And then there had been MacColla’s bride, Haley, who’d called him “Rollo” with the carefree ease of one of his school chums.
But his given name, rolling from a woman’s tongue with such careless intimacy? The sound stabbed him and thrilled him both.
He turned again, staring at the screen as if it were an approaching marauder.
“Uh . . . You there?” She popped her head up again. “Will?”
“Yes.” He’d never buttoned a woman’s gown before. But they had to make haste. He’d paid a lad to fetch a carriage from the mews—it would surely be out front by now. Waiting to put as much distance between them and England as possible.
Cromwell’s Parliamentary soldiers had captured Ormonde, imprisoned him in the Tower. And Rollo had freed his friend right from under their noses.
From under his brother’s nose.
His brother Jamie would be on the lookout for him. Blood or no, Jamie would not let such a slight stand.
Rollo girded himself. Tried to let thoughts of Roundheads and Royalists tamp down his unruly flesh.
He inhaled deeply, a white-knuckled grip on the head of his cane. “Buttons are buttons,” he muttered, and stepped behind the screen.
Chapter 5
Why was he being so quiet?
“Are you still there?” Felicity clutched the dress to her chest. Despite the fact that she was, for all intents and purposes, almost completely covered, she suddenly felt very self-conscious.
She shook her head, amused. She wasn’t usually so modest. She supposed she was getting into the spirit of the time period. Or maybe it was just in reaction to the strangely grave and proper man on the other side of the partition.
“It’s okay, come in,” she said, seeing that he stood at the edge of the screen.
She turned back around, offering him her back for buttoning. The dress began to slide, and she tucked her elbows to her sides to hold it in place.
“The corset thingy tied in the front”—hooking a thumb at the top, she gave a little tug to her stays—“I think I did it right.” It was a ridiculously tight contraption, but she had to wear something, and this was all the shopkeeper had left behind for her.
Still, she thought her breasts were going to pop up and out at any moment.
“Are you there?”—she twisted to make sure Rollo hadn’t disappeared—“ugh, does this need to be so tight?”
He was staring at her with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.
“I just need you to button me. I can’t reach up the back.”
He didn’t budge. He could make this a little easier. Felicity raised her brows. “Please?”
He gave a curt nod.