Chapter 18
Eighteen
“What on Earth is that smell?” Warner walked into the Eastern drawing room with his nose wrinkled.
Or what had been the Eastern drawing room. He barely recognised it. In the week since they had arrived back at the estate while he had attempted to keep his distance from his new wife, she had turned the room into her sewing space and workshop.
Volts of fabric covered nearly every surface.
The sofas and armchairs had been replaced with large desks full of paper and sketches and several chests.
A very rickety looking sewing box groaned beneath several volts of fabric.
At the centre of the chaos sat Adele with a bucket of some foul-smelling liquid that she was stirring with a large wooden paddle.
“Probably the dye.” Adele gestured at the tub, her own nose wrinkling.
“Is there a reason you decided to dye your fabric in the drawing room and not in the dyeing room?” he asked.
“We have a dyeing room? Where?” Adele’s eyes widened.
“Downstairs.” Warner gestured with his hand. “One of the old duchess’ was obsessed with her clothes being the latest fashion, and the Duke at the time decided it would be best to simply dye her existing dresses rather than commission entirely new ones.”
“The servants probably thought it was beneath my station to be shown such a place, and I have been too distracted with all this to explore much.” Adele waved her hand around the room, and Warner followed her movement.
His eyes took in the half-finished projects, the sketches, the baskets of thread and pincushions scattered around like little velvet hedgehogs. “You do seem to have quite the collection going — I am surprised the accountant has not asked me for a bigger allowance for you.”
“Much of the fabric I managed to get at a discount — partly because of the amount I have ordered and partly through a… connection of sorts.” She cleared her throat and looked intently at the cloth she was dyeing.
“I am guessing this connection is someone you met through Mr. George? Please tell me this fabric is not illicitly gained; no discount is worth that.” He took a step towards her, his brow furrowing. If she has put herself in danger over some fabric…
She gave him an affronted look, one hand resting on her chest. “Of course not! There is a certain amount of waste from the production of such things — sometimes something goes out of fashion more quickly than expected, sometimes there is a fault in the machine. They cannot sell the fabric at full price, so you get a discount.”
“Very crafty of you if you will pardon the pun.” He felt the corner of his lips quirk upwards but stopped it.
“In this instance, I’ll consider it.” Her own smile forced one from Warner’s lips. “Besides, I thought on a limited amount of money, frugality would be best.”
“If you need a larger allowance, all you have to do is ask.” His brow creased and then understanding hit him. “You have not been using your allowance though, have you? You have been using Mr. George’s accounts.”
“How do you know about those?” Adele’s eyes went wide, and she stopped stirring the pot with the fabric in it.
“I did not; it was a guess, and you have just confirmed my suspicions.” He smirked at her snort of irritation but could see a hint of amusement in her eyes as she swore under her breath.
“Such language, Adele. And here I thought you were a lady,” he teased and perched himself on one of the few bits of exposed desk as he surveyed his wife.
“You are hardly some shrinking violet; I think you will survive a little cussing.” She shook her head, blowing a strand of hair from her face. “Besides, it is very irritating when you trick me into admitting things I would rather not share.”
“Have you not heard? A husband and wife should have no secrets from one another.” He put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching towards her and brushing the hair from her face.
The memory of their night in the inn settled over him, the smell of her almost overwhelming the smell of dye. His heart tugged at him, trying to beat out of his chest towards her, but he refused to move.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Because you have been so forthright with me?”
“I have answered the questions you have asked. I can hardly be blamed if you have not asked the right ones.” He shrugged and massaged his neck as his eyes met hers. The rich brown color reminded him of warm earth in the heat of summer.
“Pray tell me, what are the ‘right’ questions?” Her eyes narrowed.
“You will know them when you find them.” He made a dismissive gesture and moved towards her. “You should save your secret money.”
“Why? Do you fear what might happen if I am left at your mercy?” Though her tone was light, Warner saw her shoulders tense as she spoke, and her fingers tightened around the wooden paddle.
“No. I know you value your independence, and I can only assume that if you run out of your own funds, that will add to your need to rebel against things. I would not have you feel trapped, Adele.” He met her gaze, willing her to see the earnestness in his words.
“I do not feel trapped.” She licked her lips and then looked away. “Besides my allowance should go to the house, not be spent on frivolous hobbies.”
“Few people spend so many hours on their hobby, Adele. I would say it is more of a passion, and I would say it is a rather practical pursuit at that. Dressmaking is an art, and even I can see that your skill is improving.” He gestured to one of the half-dressed mannequins.
“Consider it an investment in your talent and one that I am happy to make.”
“I would feel like I was taking advantage of your generosity.” She dismissed the idea.
“Then make me something.” Warner said without thinking, his hands tracing along a bit of soft, purple fabric.
“Are you asking me to make you a dress, dear Duke?” He turned to see Adele giving him an amused smile, mischief dancing in her eyes. “I suppose it would at least show off your arms.”
“You think my arms are worth showing off?” He flexed his muscles and saw spots of colour appear on her cheeks. You are playing a dangerous game, Warner.
But he could not help but want to make her blush. To want her to smile. Stop it. He found himself wrapping the fabric he had been stroking around himself, careful not to disturb any of Adele’s projects or work.
“What do you think?” He gave her the kind of bow that belonged on the stage.
“That you are utterly ridiculous.” Adele let out a giggle. “Though the colour does suit you. It’s a nice contrast with your hair and eyes, and cut right it would…”
She trailed off a faraway look on her face as she moved to one of the sketchbooks closest to her.
“Are you imagining the kind of gown you would create for me?” Warner teased, the fabric still wrapped around him. “I think you are right; short sleeves would be best. Give the ton something to look at.”
His words seemed to pull Adele from her musings, and he regretted interrupting her. She shook her head as though to clear it, flipping the drawing so that he could not see it. “I suspect that if you were in a dress, your arms would be the least remarked upon thing.”
He batted his eyelashes at her, smiling. “I suppose I do have rather striking eyes.”
“You know that is not what I’m talking about. I doubt even being a duke could save you from the type of talk that would entail.” She turned serious. “Such things… for women they may be scandalous but for men? That leads to the wrong sorts of conclusions. The kind that will get you killed.”
“Your concern for my wellbeing is rather flattering.” He had meant it to sound like a joke, but to his surprise, he found that he meant it.
“Perhaps it is just self-interest. After all, we are supposed to be remedying my own reputation. No doubt if you showed up in a dress, it would somehow be all my fault.” Warner could hear the bitterness in Adele’s voice.
Warner knew that what she was saying was true, even as he rankled at the thought. He took a step towards her, his fists clenched, and then stopped himself.
“Either way — I will not do something that could leave you open to risk. You married me for my protection after all.” He gestured around them.
“I know why I married you, Warner. And what it means.” Her eyes flicked to his lips and then to the rest of his face, sending a thrill through Warner’s body.
I will never kiss you. His words filled the space between them, and Warner wondered if she was remembering them as well.
“Are you going to give me back my fabric?” Her words brought Warner back to the present.
He glanced down at the fabric wrapped around him. “I have not made up my mind; I rather like it.”
“Well, you cannot have it.” She took a step towards him. “I have that earmarked for something already.”
“Oh?” he canted his head.
She reached up, her fingers brushing against his neck as she gently rearranged the fabric around him. “Though, it really does suit you. And that might be an interesting test of my skills. But I do not have the knowledge, and I doubt any tailor would share what he knows with a woman.”
Warner listened to his wife voice her thoughts aloud, her fingers frozen against his neck. The warmth of them spread through him like a wildfire in the heat of summer. Adele was clearly caught up in her own thoughts, her eyes seeing not Warner but something else.
There was a light in her eyes that stirred a deep emotion within him. Her tongue poked out between her lips as she traced the lines of him with her eyes, and he could tell she was dressing him in her mind.
“If I had the right books… but even then… I wonder… Two fabrics, something dark I think to make the contrast work. To draw the eye but not be gaudy or ostentatious.” She was adjusting the fabric that was draped around him.
The scent of rose washed over him, and he breathed it in deeply as he watched her face.
“I do not think I have ever seen anyone think as beautifully as you do.” She jerked and looked up at him, making Warner realise he had spoken aloud.
There was a knock at the door, and they leapt apart. Warner felt the fabric slip from his shoulders and clutched it so that it would not fall on the floor.
Adele called out, “Enter.”
A footman emerged holding several boxes. “Where should I put these, Your Grace?”
“Over there with the others. Thank you, Mr. Henry.” Adele smiled at the footman, and Warner felt it deep in his bones, like sunlight after winter.
“I have taken up enough of your time.” Warner inclined his head to Adele. “I should let you get back to your projects.”
For a wild moment, he thought that she would ask him to stay, but instead, she nodded. He felt disappointment spread through him, setting him on edge.
“You will let me know if I can be of any assistance?” Warner asked, canting his head.
“Of course.” Adele’s eyes glittered.
He knew she would not ask him.
As he left the library, he thought on what she had said. She seemed so determined to view herself as a burden, to see her pursuits as silly. She would never ask him for help.
But he could still support her, and he had a pretty good idea of how.