20
Jo held her breath as she approached the upstairs sitting room, where they would meet before dinner when they were home, which had only happened three times in their thirteen-day marriage. Perhaps it was normal even though it was not what she had envisioned.
The new evening dress in sea blue silk that had been delivered that morning along with the other dresses tightened comfortingly around her as she inhaled deeply. As if it wanted to help her brace herself before she approached Robert.
She looked like a proper duchess now. Jo knew it.
Madame Laval and Beatrice had assured her several times that the dresses were fit for a duchess and she believed them.
When she looked in the mirror, she did not see Josephine Hawkins from Hampshire; she saw the Duchess of Riddlesmarsh.
Robert could not look away from her in this dress.
He could not. Her days of embarrassing him with her poor choice of clothes were finally over.
Jo had not realized she had clenched her fists in the cream silk gloves before she felt the fabric tighten almost painfully around her joints. With another breath, she willed herself to unclench them gently and pushed the half-open door to make room to enter.
She looked bewildered at the empty group of chairs and the sofa in the middle of the room. Robert was not there. Then she spotted him with his back to her by the table with decanters filled with liquid in different shades of amber, brown, and deep red.
“Madeira?” Robert asked without looking at her.
“Yes, please,” Jo answered and knew her tentative smile would be evident in her voice.
Robert poured the two glasses, and Jo felt the silence vibrate between them. Or perhaps it was simply her own excitement and nerves.
“Here you…” he began as he turned with a glass in each hand, then stopped when he saw her standing next to the sofa.
Did he think it was too much that she had not sat down? The dress came to the best effect when she was standing though. But perhaps he thought she was overdoing it. Showing off.
Robert’s eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open. He looked impeccable as ever in a black jacket and cream-colored breeches and waistcoat. His short auburn hair had been combed but was too short for styling it.
Jo allowed herself to take in his broad shoulders and narrow hips as her gaze travelled from the glasses in his hands, darting over his body, before she briefly looked at his face.
His eyes did not meet hers but were roaming over her dress.
Jo could not help a small, satisfied smile; it had to mean that he approved.
“What do you think?” she asked and could not help but turn around for him to admire the dress fully. “My new dresses have arrived, so I finally look like a proper duchess. Madame Laval assured me that all of them are fitting for my new position.”
She turned to him with a grin but was surprised to see that his face had become serious. The look of awe was gone and replaced by something she could not decipher.
“Jo,” he said and gently placed the two glasses on the table by the sofa before walking toward her.
Jo felt her mouth go dry and her eyes widen, while her mind frantically searched for what she could have done to displease him.
Did he think it was too much? Perhaps she looked like a child playing dress-up in her mother’s discarded clothes.
“Jo,” he repeated and took hold of both of her hands.
He was not wearing gloves, perhaps he had taken them off when he had been pouring the liquor.
She could feel the heat from his larger hands through the thin fabric of her own gloves.
It made her involuntarily clutch his hands tighter and warmth spread through her body, even though she was fairly certain she was in for a scolding.
“I told you I would rather have used my own money. If you think it is too expensive…” Jo began.
She had bought a couple of additional items from Madame Laval and been told that an account had been set up in her name. She could only assume that Robert had done it. She was impressed by how he had remembered the name of the milliner from the conversation they had had.
“First, I have to tell you that you look divine,” Robert said as he shifted closer to her, and his hold on her fingers tightened.
“Oh, well, thank you.” Jo felt her cheeks heat at his compliment and unwavering gaze.
“Money has not once entered my mind. If this is what Madame Laval is capable of at her normal rate, I will be more than happy to pay her double next time.”
Robert’s steady gaze made Jo’s blush deepen. She bit her lip to prevent herself from speaking, which made Robert draw in a deep breath sharply. He shook his head slightly and his green eyes focused on hers once again.
“Then I need to know: What do you mean, you look like a proper duchess now?” he asked. It was evident that he was keeping his tone light, trying not to intimidate her, yet there was an edge of steel beneath it. She had displeased him, just like she feared.
“That… that this is a dress made for a duchess,” Jo feebly explained. “My other dresses… they were made for a young girl… they were not…” She interrupted herself to gulp loudly.
“Who gave you the impression that duchesses need to look a certain way and that you did not?” Robert’s voice had become even more gentle as he spoke, yet it only made Jo fear whatever he was hiding underneath it more.
Would he scold her now? Her eyes darted between his but his face only portrayed kindness.
“No one,” she whispered. “I just… but I am… There is still so much I need to learn. And I thought that if I looked the part, it would be easier for me.”
“You looked the part before as well, Jo.” Robert released one of her hands to brush a stray curl away from her face. “You more than looked the part. You have always looked beautiful.”
Jo was blushing so intensely now that she could feel the warmth of it down her neck and across her chest as well. She wanted to believe so badly that he found her beautiful.
“But…” She gulped, willing herself to be brave. “You have never complimented me before. Often you look away as if you are ashamed of me.”
“I did not want you to feel any pressure from my… attention to you,” Robert said in a gravelly voice.
Was it her imagination or had he come closer?
“Which kind of pressure?”
“To… rush things more than you were comfortable with. Was it not the entire point of your list?” Robert looked down at his hands that were still holding hers.
“Yes, but…” Jo licked her lips. Being this close to him and being this honest was overwhelming in a way she had never experienced before. “We have not stuck to the list, have we? We should have been…”
“Kissing each other’s cheeks, I know,” Robert interrupted her and looked up at her with a smoldering expression in his eyes.
He stared at her for a long moment and Jo reveled in his attention, feeling as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
Then Robert took a slight step back from her although he did not let go of her hand.
“The problem is I fear that I would have trouble sticking to just kissing your cheeks.”
“You would?” Jo breathed, not even certain what she was saying anymore.
Robert nodded solemnly.
“Since we are speaking candidly: I am deeply attracted to you and have been since the start of our marriage.”
“You have not,” Jo scoffed and could not help but laugh derisively as she looked to the side. It was still light out; the yellow curtains were swaying gently in the breeze from the open window.
“It’s true,” Robert persisted, now smiling as well.
“You thought me a loon, when I first approached you at the Thistleworths’ ball.” Jo fought the urge to tuck her hands out of his grasp and cross her arms over her chest.
“Perhaps. But one with a very delectable bosom.”
Both their eyes strayed to Jo’s décolletage briefly.
She had opted to wear her mother’s pearl necklace tonight.
A silver chain with one large pearl that was nestled between the tops of her breasts.
The dress was slightly more revealing than her dresses normally were, but both Madame Laval and Beatrice had assured her that it was fine, since she was a married woman.
When Jo met Robert’s eyes again, his gaze was even more heated than before.
“I thought you looked charming with all your freckles,” she told him, and Robert looked to the side and made a self-deprecating sound.
It gave Jo courage to step forward and place her gloved hand on his cheek.
It was completely smooth and she could not help but be a tad disappointed that she could not feel his stubble.
The silk of her glove might be thin enough that it would have pricked her palm through it.
“It made me think you would not berate me for being freckled as well.” Her voice was breathy. She did not dare look at him but kept her eyes on her hand.
“Your freckles are charming,” Robert breathed. His exhale rushed over her, smelling sweetly and potently of port.
Jo did not wish to argue it. Her uncle had said the same, but Ambrose had told her enough times that no man would want a freckled bride, that she could not believe him.
She accepted the freckles as a necessary evil, since she liked the way the sun bleached her hair.
It only made her like Robert more that he complimented her for them.
“What would happen if you kissed my cheek?” Jo wondered.
“I want to kiss you everywhere, Jo.” Robert’s voice was low and hoarse.
She was in his arms now, both of his hands resting lightly at the small of her back, although she was not certain when he had let go of her hands.
When she had moved closer. She gulped at his words, letting them sink in.
Finally let herself meet his eyes. They seemed to be a brighter shade of green than normal. Like a fire was lit behind them.