“I think you are well aware of what the answers are to both of those questions,” she said. “I am waiting for a lady’s maid, and I’m certainly not in any state of dress to entertain a male guest. Not that he should be here in the first place.”
He shrugged, unaffected at her response, and stepped in past her, leaving her staring at him, aghast. Did the man have no qualms whatsoever?
“This is not one of the rooms in this house in which you can come and go as you please!”
He ignored her once more, and she could do nothing more than sigh in frustration as she studied him, hands on her hips. If only he didn’t cut such a dashing figure. If only she wasn’t secretly stirred by that hint of mischievousness that always followed him around. If only he didn’t make her laugh, despite how equally often he angered her.
She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to cover the skin over her bodice. “What can I do for you?”
“I needed to talk to you about Caroline,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I know I am supposed to stay away from you, and I will, I promise, but no one else knows about Thatcher except for Alex, and his only suggestion is to force Caro to make a choice, one way or another, by letting all find out about the two of them. I figured you would be far more sensible.”
“I can attempt to help,” she said cautiously, careful not to commit to anything that might hurt her friend. “What are you thinking?”
“I am thinking that Caroline is being blinded by some unknown infatuation for the man,” he said, and then, apparently sensing her discontent, waved a hand around in a spinning motion. “Here, let me help you dress.”
“Absolutely not!”
“At least if someone does come in, you will be fastened.”
Joanna knew he was making sense, for once, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed the idea any more than she should.
“Fine,” she said, turning around.
“Hold your hair up,” he said, and she brushed it to the side. She had been waiting for the lady’s maid to see if she could do something with it to make it look somewhat presentable — or better than its usual limp, straight strands at any rate.
She clenched her teeth together as she tried to push away the tremor that came from the softest brush of his fingers upon the skin of her back as he laced up her stays, from the whisper of his breath upon the back of her neck as he began to slowly push each hook through its eye on the cream dress she would wear beneath the netting.
“Now,” he said, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes at his voice, so close to her ear. Why did it have to be so deep, so vibrant, so spine-tingling? “Caroline says she is in love. Do you believe it?”
“I can’t say that I’m entirely sure,” she said with all honesty. “I’ve hardly seen the two of them together but for the supper when you brought the attention of all to them.”
He didn’t say anything to that, although she could have sworn she felt rather than heard a low grumble from deep in his chest.
“I’ve apologized.”
“You do a lot of apologizing,” she couldn’t help but remark, in part to warn him off, and in part to remind herself of who he was and what he had done.
“So it seems,” he said, stepping away from her for a moment, and as she was about to turn around and tell him to leave, he slipped the netted dress over her head, the whoosh of fine fabric and his nearness causing every nerve to tingle.
“There,” he said, pulling it down as he patted it in place around her. He took a step to the side, bringing her with him so that she could see herself in the mirror, with him standing over her shoulder, his head close to hers. “Perfect.”
Joanna watched her eyes widen in the mirror, taking in his words, as well as the picture of them side by side.
“Far from perfect,” she said, although even she had no idea whether she was referring to herself, or to the two of them together.
On the outside, he was perfection. All sculpted cheekbones and dark features; but the man inside had terrorized her — a fact she must not forget.
“You’re still upset.” His eyes met hers in the mirror. “I thought you received