Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“This is really too much,” Rose said as she stepped into the room. “Your Grace –”
“Christopher,” he cut her off. He was sitting on a couch, turned to face the curtain from behind which she had just been changing into her gown.
“Right.” She smiled nervously, then looked away because the way he was watching her was rather intense. “Christopher. This is too much –”
“Nonsense,” he cut her off again, making sure to wear a pleasant smile as he did. “As I have said, you are my wife, and you deserve the very best.”
“And as I said, I already have plenty of gowns.”
“And as I said, they are not good enough. Not for you. Not for my wife.”
Rose frowned at her husband, caught in two states of mind.
The first was confusion, a complete lack of understanding in regard to what was happening right now.
How kind he was being. How generous. And most of all, how attentive.
He had been this way since they entered the small modiste to have Rose fitted for a new wardrobe, acting in a way that most would consider to be that of a perfect husband.
The other state of mind was a prickling awareness that things were not quite as they seemed. Yes, her husband was treating her well. And yes, he was finally starting to show another side of himself that was previously hidden. But there was an underlying falsity to it.
And this falsity, or the reason for it, swept into the room.
“Oh, you look wonderful!” The modiste was an elderly woman with a bent back and a crooked nose. Her skin sagged, her eyes were too small for her face, while her smile was too large. “Did I not say? Green is your color, Your Grace.”
“I could not agree more,” Christopher said.
“It does look nice.” Rose turned to find a mirror, and even she was not such a wet blanket that she couldn’t admit such a thing.
“Nice, she says! The modiste clicked her tongue.
“She is just being modest,” he said with a chuckle. “Although the word I would use is beautiful.”
Rose eyed her husband again, waiting for him to realize what he said and look away or perhaps cough awkwardly to cover it. But he saw her watching and smiled at her, a look on his face that would suggest this was a common occurrence, and there was nothing out of the ordinary to consider.
He is trying, and for that I am grateful. But I know the reason for it, and I just wish… I wish he were doing it because he wanted to, not because he thinks he must.
It was a small thing, and Rose knew that she was being picky and that she would do better to be grateful that things between her and her husband were going so well because they were, ever since he found her in the library, and she nearly collapsed onto the floor, Rose could feel the changes occurring between them.
In ordinary circumstances, she would be happy for it. Indeed, last evening in particular, their supper was easy and carefree and a huge step forward in their relationship.
Today, however, she wasn’t so sure.
“The green,” the Duke said with another nod. “Although I do think that the bodice can be a little tighter.”
“Oh, yes,” the modiste agreed.
“And a slightly higher neckline?” he added. “Sleeves, perhaps?”
“Certainly, certainly.”
“Rose,” he continued. “Is there anything else?” He looked at her expectantly.
Rose’s frown deepened, still unsure how she was meant to respond.
She turned back and looked at herself in the dress, willing to admit that it was a truly beautiful gown.
Dark green, golden hems, a floral pattern that grew from the skirt and wrapped her body like vines growing over a tree.
It went well with her dark hair and eyes, her light skin, and, for once, her broad shoulders didn’t look nearly so wide
Was it such a strange thing to realize that Rose was not used to having dresses made for her in this way? And to admit how much she liked it?
All her life, it was Marianne who was gifted these things – always at Rose’s insistence.
Rose was happy to wear old-style gowns, those that belonged to her mother, knowing that Marianne was the one who deserved new dresses.
And while she had always loved to see the look on her sister’s face when they went shopping like this…
she was very much liking the feeling of, for once, being taken care of.
“No,” she said carefully. “That all sounds right.”
“Perfect.” Christopher clapped his hands together. “Let us try another color.”
“Another?” Rose gasped.
“Of course.” He rose suddenly from his chair and went to her. There, he took her by the hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. Rose’s eyes widened at the gesture, and she nearly yanked her hair away. “For my beautiful wife, nothing is off limits.”
Her cheeks burned, as did the spot where his lips had kissed her hand. Her stomach, too, flipped, and dammit if her heart wasn’t racing.
In any other circumstances, Rose might have gushed at the way her husband was behaving. And she would have certainly started to wonder if, despite how things had started, they were changing, and that she might want to change with it.
However, it was just then that she saw the modiste over the Duke’s shoulder. She was beaming at the two of them, swept up in the display of love that the Duke was showing for his wife.
Rose’s face dropped, and she turned back to look at her reflection. “Yes, another color. Why not at this stage?”
The morning had started well.
Rose and Christopher were still a little awkward around one another, and there was still that sense that they were trying to figure each other out. She did not know him at all, but after the previous evening, Rose was excited for the chance.
At the very least, she was curious. She had started to see another side of her husband last evening and wanted to find out more.
For a time there, it looked to be working.
They rode a carriage together into London, and while the conversation was polite and even easy, there was still a wall between them.
Christopher was careful to laugh around her, to even smile, and whenever she sensed he was starting to relax, he would pull himself back.
That was until they walked into the modiste’s store, at which point, he transformed entirely.
“Is my wife not the most beautiful creature you have ever seen?” he asked the modiste as she collected some color samples for them.
“Oh, yes, Your Grace,” the modiste agreed.
“And aren’t I the luckiest man in the world?”
“The luckiest.”
Rose looked into the mirror, finding the Duke in the reflection. She narrowed her eyes at him, careful that only he might see. And while he did see it, he continued to smile pleasantly as if nothing was the matter.
He was putting on a performance, and it was just so obvious.
One thing that Rose was starting to understand about her husband, above all else, was how much he prized how people saw him. That was why he was constantly careful to keep his emotions in check, and that was why he was acting this way now. It was not the real him.
“After this, I think we will go jewelry shopping.” He was standing right behind her, and he took a step closer so that he was right on her shoulder.
“Oh…” She tried to laugh it off. “That really is not –”
“We are going jewelry shopping,” he spoke over her and took a final step closer so that his body was against hers. Then his hands found her shoulders, and he looked at her in the reflection. “It’s a big ask to find a piece that matches even a fragment of your beauty, but we can at least try, no?”
From across the room, Rose heard the modiste gush.
“Yes,” Rose said carefully, narrowing her eyes at him in the reflection. “We can try.”
Rose liked that her husband was trying harder. She liked that he wanted to buy her things and take her to a ball and treat her as if she were more than an imposition. They were married; this was her life from now on, so why not embrace it?
What she did not like was the falsity of it all.
There was more to her husband, and she knew that now. There was a side to him that she had seen yesterday, one that she liked, and one that she wanted to get to know better. But until he stopped caring what others thought, and until he could be real with her, she might never see it again.
The question thus became, how could she bring this side out?