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“Is that why you have gotten so pretty for me?” He asked.

When she only blushed he added, “I very much like your nightgown. It fits you quite perfectly.”

“No,” she finally responded, after seeming to pull her thoughts together, “I wore it because I wanted to ask you about it. This isn’t one that I ordered. In fact there are quite a few things I did not order that came for me.”

“Yes, well, after I went over the invoices of your purchases I was concerned it was not enough,” he replied. “I sent a list of garments you may require to a Modiste here in Merrivale and had her compile the rest.”

“That was not necessary,” she replied, taking a step forward, “What I ordered was more than enough.” She then paused, blushing all over again, “Which, thank you, by the way. It was most kind of you to do that. As well as what you obtained frommy mother’s house. I thought I was never going to see those things again.”

Hugo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then picked up his pen again as he looked back to his paperwork.

“It was not kindness, it was practicality,” he responded. “Our winters come early here and so you needed some warmer things, and as the Duchess it is you that will be doing most of the receiving of any dignitaries and I cannot have you wearing anything that does not resemble the success of this land. Speaking of your duties, how did today go? Was Mrs. Purdy sufficient with her tour?”

He didn’t respond to what she’d said about her things from her mother’s house. It had been a complicated deal to close that resulted in him parting with a rather large sum of money. But she didn’t need to know that.

“I spent most of the time organizing my rooms,” Seraphina replied. “They are beautifully decorated. Were they your mother’s?”

Hugo tensed again, but didn’t look up.

“Yes.” He replied, his tone curt.

“Well I don’t wish to change a thing,” she said quietly. “She had remarkable taste.”

Growing more uncomfortable by the second, Hugo seethed out a breath and simply nodded.

“It took you all day to unpack your things?” He asked, his tone bitter.

“That,” she agreed, “And I had lunch with your friend.”

Hugo’s head shot up and he shot her a glare, but his eyes went wide with distrust as he saw close she had come. Now, she was standing so close he could reach out and touch her. A large part of him wanted to, but instead he tightened his grip on his pen.

“You spoke with Duncan?” He grit out.

“Is that a problem?” She asked, taking a step closer.

“That depends,” he answered slowly, raking his eyes down her body. He inhaled another steadying breath, and caught the heady scent of roses wafting from his bride.

“What did he tell you?”

Hugo’s entire body went still as Seraphina slowly took another step forward, and she boldly slid into his lap. Hunger burned through his veins as he felt her small weight shift over his groin, and he could not help but reach up and brace her waist.

“Nothing much,” she murmured softly, her eyes slowly traveling over his face, then down to his chest.

“He insisted that I learn about you through your own words.”

Relief lapped away one of the layers of tension that shrouded him, and he smoothed his hands up Seraphina’s robe. Her warmth, her curves; they felt amazing beneath his hands.

“He is a good man,” he conceded.

“I will have Mrs. Purdy begin her official tour and instruction tomorrow,” Seraphina promised.

She then reached up, cupping her palm against his neck. Lust shot through him at the small touch, and he pulled her closer.

“See that you do,” he murmured, tracing his fingertips over the hem of her bodice. “Now that you are here I am going to need your help. It has been a long time since my people have had a duchess. They will rely on you for much.”

“And you, husband?” She asked.

Hugo looked up with a smirk, growing distracted by the way their bodies seemed to fit so well together.