Haunted by the Earl's Touch - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,37
kept thinking about the earl sprawled in the chair only a few feet away.
Daisy returned with the gowns requested over her arms. They looked far too expensive and not at all practical.
‘They do not seem to be what I had in mind,’ she said. ‘I prefer something more...similar to the gown I wore in here.’
The seamstress made a little moue of disgust. ‘Perhaps we should let his lordship be the judge.’
Mary gasped. ‘Certainly not.’ She wasn’t going to parade herself in front of him.
‘Help her into the blue one, Daisy,’ the seamstress said. ‘I am going to look and see if we have anything more akin to miss’s taste.’ She disappeared out of the door.
The young woman unlaced the blue gown and held it ready. ‘If miss would bend a little...’
The usual problem of her height was what the girl meant. With a sigh, Mary ducked and the dress was slipped over her head. It went on with a whisper. Such light airy fabric. So silky to the touch.
The girl made a couple of adjustments to the bodice with pins and glanced down. ‘We will have to add some trim to the hem.’
Mary glanced in the mirror and recoiled. The figure in the mirror wasn’t her, surely. This woman wore a gown cut shockingly low across the bosom and edged in vandyke lace. So much skin. And the tops of her breasts were clearly visible. She tugged the fabric higher to no avail, not to mention that the sleeves did not reach her wrists and the skirts were well above her ankles. She looked ridiculous.
Daisy opened the door. ‘All ready, Mrs Wharton.’
‘There is something missing, surely,’ Mary said, staring at her chest. ‘A fichu. Or a shawl. You need to find something else. This one will not do at all.’
‘I think it looks perfect,’ a dark male voice said. She swung around, startled to see his eyes roving her body from her head to her heels. Heat flared in that silver gaze.
Answering heat rushed through her blood. Her insides fluttered alarmingly. A blush rose up her chest to her face. ‘You can’t come in here.’
Mrs Wharton swept in with swathes of lace. ‘Why ever not? You are fully dressed. Let us see, now. Up on the stool, now, please, miss.’
The earl’s charming smile was directed fully at her. He looked utterly gorgeous and was clearly enjoying himself. ‘Allow me.’ He held out his hand.
A large hand and as steady as a rock, when she was trembling inside like an aspen and her knees had the consistency of butter.
She glanced up at his face and saw his jaw tighten as he realised she intended to refuse his aid. Why she did it, she wasn’t sure, but she gave him her hand, felt the warmth of his fingers around her cold ones.
He raised her hand to his lips, all the while keeping his gaze locked with hers. A startlingly warm brush of his mouth against her skin felt far too familiar, and terribly unnerving. A shiver ran down her spine, a special little thrill.
‘I am glad to see we have come to an understanding,’ he said in a murmur meant only for her.
She almost moaned at the way that deep rasping voice made her insides clench. The impression of strength when he supported her as she stepped up left her feeling weak.
Now their eyes were on a level, their gazes locked in a breathless awareness. Her skin tingled all over. Her heartbeat unsteady, out of rhythm, made her breathing unnaturally fast.
His gaze drifted downwards from her eyes, to her parted lips, down her throat to her chest and, God help her, what she saw in his expression was a powerful hunger. Her breasts tightened under his scrutiny.
A sensation of being utterly feminine swept over her, warming her from the inside out, making her limbs feel suddenly languid.
‘Let me take a look at that hem,’ Mrs Wharton said, dropping to her knees.
And the spell, or whatever it was that had occurred between them, broke. The earl stepped back, his face in its usual taut lines, his gaze guarded.
Did he fear she’d seen too much?
Mary closed her eyes. She was imagining things. He was here to make sure his money didn’t slip out of his grasp. That was all there was to it.
While the dressmaker pinned lace to the bottom of the gown and added matching fabric to the sleeves, Mary avoided looking at his lordship.