Page 52

52

Franny

“You truly won’t tell me where we’re going?” Franny asked, studying her uncharacteristically chipper husband.

They’d been rocking through the streets of London for ten minutes now, and he hadn’t given her one hint of where they were headed. Despite the fact that she may have asked upwards of twenty times already.

He smiled pleasantly at her, lips pressed tight, and shook his head. She narrowed her eyes at him. If he were more like her…she’d be suspicious. But she was pretty certain that smug smile was just Rupert being exceedingly pleased with himself for whatever plan he had in store for her.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and she scurried to the window and pulled back the curtains. And promptly started bouncing in her seat.

“A modiste! Am I visiting a modiste?” She turned to her husband, and his face had split into a full-blown grin.

“Yes, love. I thought it was about time you were granted what you truly deserve.” His smile faded, and his warm gaze glinted, a small fire burning in their depths. “Whatever you want, Franny, it is yours. You never need to ask permission; you never need to fear being denied. Jewels, dresses, horses, books, wines, confections, anything. You will never go without again.”

Her heart softened. There he was. The Rupert she knew he’d always been underneath. “That’s why you gifted me those new dresses, that beautiful one I wore for our painting, isn’t it? At the time, I had thought you were embarrassed by the state of my wardrobe…”

He shook his head violently. “No. Never. I couldn’t care less if you’re in silks or in a sack—”

“Or in nothing at all?” She winged a brow.

His cheeks tinted pink, and she bit the corner of her lip, fighting back her smile.

“I wouldn’t say I care less if you’re in nothing at all. I’d quite like that, actually. I think that’d be my preference.”

“So I can go swimming naked in our pond, then?”

His lips flattened. She could see him war with himself, the indecision flitting through his eyes. He didn’t want to be his usual overbearing self. But…

“I’d prefer if you abstained,” he said, his voice strangled. “So I am not forced to commit murder toward anyone who sees you.”

“It’s all right, Rupert. I was only teasing.” She went to rap on the carriage door to alert their footman to open the door.

“Although,” he said, freezing her movements. “There may be certain times I would be more forgiving to such a situation.”

She sat back and cocked her head. This she must hear.

“Perhaps…under the cover of night. We could…”

Her heart rate thrummed against her chest, and she leaned forward, her hands landing on her husband’s knees. “Are you saying, Rupert, that you want to go for a midnight swim with me? In the nude. ”

He was grinning again and nodding his head. The pink on his cheeks deepened. “Though I wouldn’t mind if we did more than just swimming.”

Her fingers tightened on his knees. “Oh, Rupert, what a rogue you’re turning out to be. We are going to have so much fun teaching you how to be free.”

He scooted to the edge of his bench, cupped her jaw, and drew her into a mind-melting kiss. She barely had time to process the delicious curl of his tongue around hers before he was pulling away. She blinked dazedly at him, his rap on the carriage door faintly registering. Her muscles trembled, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they couldn’t support her out of the conveyance.

The door popped open, and Rupert moved toward the door, then paused. He glanced back at her. “I spent nearly two decades resisting your attempts to show me how to enjoy life. I very much look forward to making up for them.”

Franny shuffled toward the door, her heart doing its own little shuffle in her chest. She very much looked forward to that, too. Rupert’s white-gloved hand waited to assist her down from the carriage. His other hand pressed against her back as her feet touched the ground. She noticed he was doing that more often lately. Always touching her, casual minute touches. A graze over her arm, a brush over her back, the back of his hand pressing against hers.

She dipped her chin and shot him a cheeky smile from beneath her lashes. “Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, low and breathy.

His hand tightened around hers, and Franny was pretty sure she heard him growl over the hubbub of the London street. She nearly giggled. She stepped forward—

And then was abruptly jerked back into her husband’s chest. Oooph!

His breath coasted over her neck. “When we get home,” he whispered, gooseflesh pebbling on her skin. “You will have five minutes to find yourself naked in my bed. And you will be my lording me in that exact tone.”

Franny shivered. Well, that sounded absolutely lovely. But she wouldn’t be Franny if she gave in so easily. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin, and she could tell he noted her defiance by the way he tensed behind her. “And if I don’t comply, my lord .”

“That’s your call, Franny. If you seek the sweetness of praise. Or the sting of punishment.”

He stepped away and strode toward the shop’s door. She swayed slightly, blinking at his solid back, the fabric straining with the light swing of his arms. Goodness, how was a woman to choose?

Franny shook herself from her stupor and hurried after him. Truly, it was an easy answer for her. From the beginning, she’d always loved being scolded by him.

She rejoined Rupert at the counter of the shop, where he spoke with a short curvaceous woman wrapped in shimmering gold silks.

“And this must be your lovely wife, my lord.” The woman turned to Franny. “I am Mrs. Bean, the modiste and owner of the shop.” Her eyes turned keen, and she roamed Franny from head to toe. Her lips curled. “Oh, we are going to have the most diverting time creating your wardrobe, my lady. There shan’t be a thing in this shop that doesn’t look exquisite on you.”

“As discussed, she needs new everything,” Rupert said. “Expense is a non-issue. Morning dresses, day dresses, riding habits.” Rupert paused and caught Franny’s eye. “I’d like her fitted for breeches as well.”

Franny grinned. Quick study, her husband.

The woman didn’t bat an eye. “It will be done. Are we including items of a more intimate nature as well?”

Rupert’s gaze never left Franny’s. “Yes. She will need an extensive collection of new items in that area.” His rich brown eyes darkened, pinned her in place with the promise glimmering in them.

Heat washed over Franny’s cheeks, and she lifted the back of her hand to her cheek, the warmth seeping through the kid-leather of her gloves. She hadn’t realized she could blush so thoroughly. But goodness, it should be a crime for a man to look at a woman like that in public.

And then he broke the spell and turned to the modiste. “Thank you, Mrs. Bean. And we will need a ball gown readied without delay.”

Franny frowned. A ball gown? She opened her mouth—

“Follow me please, Lord and Lady Rutledge,” Mrs. Bean said, turning and gracefully sashaying toward the back of the shop.

Rupert was already following, and Franny quickened her pace to catch up with him. “You’re staying for this? Don’t gentlemen usually—I don’t know—drink whisky or join in a game of cards or something while their womenfolk shop? Won’t you be horribly bored?”

And that was when the nearly complete absence of sound registered. The light chatter, the pad of footsteps, the swish of fabric and clatter of wares, gone. She glanced around the shop. Every patron stood stock still, staring at her and Rupert.

“That is why,” Rupert murmured low. “My mother’s seeds have taken root, as you can see.”

A woman on the far right of the shop leaned over to her friend, shielding her whisper behind her glove. Franny might not have been able to hear the words, but the judgment and disgust were evident in their narrowed eyes and turned-up noses.

She lifted her chin and shot them a cheeky smile and a wink. Their eyes widened and then they leaned closer, their furtive whispers increasing . Let them talk.

“Rupert, do you truly think I give a fig what these people think of me? I have lived over twenty years not caring. And that was regarding my own father’s poor opinion. I care even less about strangers’ opinions.”

Rupert halted abruptly, and Franny stumbled in her haste to stop. He turned toward her, and his finger went to her chin, pressing lightly, forcing her gaze to lock with his. “I have no doubt you can handle each and every one of the tongue-waggers in this shop, in a ballroom, in all of London. You are the strongest woman I have ever met, and I’d be a fool to think you need me to protect you. But that’s not the point. The point is, Franny, you no longer have to . It doesn’t matter that you are fully capable of doing so on your own. You will never face the world alone again. I will never leave you to fend for yourself again. I will always be there for you. In any capacity you need me.”

Her mouth popped open in a small “oh.” She swayed slightly toward him, and a grin flashed across his face before he quickly tucked it away.

His hand at her back, he guided her the rest of the way to the dressing area in the back of the shop. “Now, my love, let us get to your next surprise.”

Franny tried to glance over her shoulder at Rupert, but he hurried her forward. Her next surprise…? She stepped into the small hall where Mrs. Bean stood outside one of the dressing room doors.

“In this room, my lady. Your guest is already waiting.”

She frowned, her mouth opening and closing. This time, she succeeded in glancing back at him. “My guest? Rupert?”

He chuckled. “Goodness, Franny. Can you not let a surprise be a surprise?”

Of course she couldn’t. It wasn’t in her nature to not prod and push and poke and figure out what the bloody hell was going on.

He grinned and quirked a brow. “Careful, love. Unless you want to pay for that impudence later.”

That really wasn't the threat he thought it was.

Rupert indicated toward the door with a nod. “Now, go. I’ll…wait here while you greet your guest.”

Franny studied him suspiciously for a heartbeat and then whirled around and marched into the room. Who on earth could her surprise gu—

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Franny!” A lightly curved petite woman with flaming red curls hurled herself at Franny. And Franny found herself promptly enveloped in a hug that cut off all oxygen to her lungs. And she gave a bone-crushing hug right back.

“Phi,” she said, her voice choked. She hugged her best friend tighter. “How are you here? Blast and damn, it’s good to see you.” Franny pulled away and studied her friend’s blurry person. She hastily wiped away her tears. Her heart, as happy as it was, sank a bit as she took in her friend. “Goodness, Phi, how much you’ve changed in a year’s time.”

Phi grinned and palmed her breasts, pushing them up. “I know! Can you stand it? I have a bosom now! Who would have thought going from sixteen to seventeen would land me a pair of breasts?”

Franny snorted and glanced back at the door. Her husband still remained hidden in the hall, but there was no way he hadn’t heard that. Oh, she and Phi were going to be the bane of her poor husband’s existence.

A choked laugh came from the back corner of the room, and Franny’s attention slid to Phi’s maid sitting quietly, a hand covering her mouth as her eyes danced.

Franny’s smile dimmed slightly, her heart sinking even lower. Though she supposed they wouldn’t be the bane of Rupert’s existence. Not with what was currently traversing the rumor-mill.

“Unfortunately, Phi, I’m not so sure it will be easy for us to continue seeing each other, even with my…father no longer forbidding our friendship.”

Phi cocked her head, her blue eyes blinking owlishly at Franny. “Whyever not?”

Franny lowered her voice. “You probably haven’t heard the rumors yet. Well, they’re not rumors. But the talk spreading through the ton right now—it’s that I am a bastard. I am a bastard. I’m sure your father will not want us to associate with each other going forward.”

A sly smile spread across Phi’s face, and her blue eyes took on a saucy glint. “Oh, you have nothing to worry about there, Fran. That stuffed shirt you were always complaining about having to marry? He spoke with Papa.” Her smile split into a grin. “There won’t be any issues on that front.”

Phi’s gaze flicked to the doorway, and Franny turned, her already melting heart now a complete puddle. Her husband leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, his features soft, his eyes warm brown pools of affection. Her hand went to her mother’s locket, their miniatures nestled together inside. All this time, he’d been paying such close attention to the things that mattered to her.

“You did this?” She gestured around the room and at Phi. “All this. For me?” she said, her words faint and thick with emotion.

He dipped his chin. “She’s important to you, Franny. Which means she’s important to me, to have in our lives. You will want for nothing now. That includes your friendships.”

Phi sighed behind Franny. “For a stuffed shirt, he’s awfully dreamy,” Phi whispered wistfully.

He was. He really truly was.