Page 19 of The Duke’s Sworn Spinster (A Duel and a Wedding #1)

Chapter Seventeen

A rcher opened the carriage door onto Saint James Street. Lydia instantly recognized Mrs. Barkley’s shop, one of the best dressmakers in the ton. She looked at Archer suspiciously.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“Getting you a suitable dress to wear to the ball in a few days.”

“What’s wrong with the ones that I have?”

“Nothing. Except that they are not nearly as radiant as you need. They are beautiful, yes, but I thought you should have something special for this ball. I want all eyes to be on you. I want everyone to see you for the beauty that you are.” Archer swallowed, and Lydia was about to ask him what he was thinking when the door to Mrs. Barkley’s shop opened, and they stepped through.

Mrs. Barkley and her attendants greeted them.

“Your Grace,” Mrs. Barkley bowed to the couple. “Welcome to my humble store. If you would follow me, we have some tea and biscuits prepared while you peruse our catalogs.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Barkley.” Archer inclined his head towards the dressmaker.

“My dear Duchess, it’s been too long,” Mrs. Barkley said as she curtseyed to Lydia.

“In fact, the last time we spoke you were awaiting your debut! Don’t worry—I was not offended when you want to Mrs. Jerry’s—I know you were after something more sedate for your new wardrobe.

But now… Now is the time for you to shine, dearest! How time flies, does it not?”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Lydia smiled.

“Please do follow me to the back. My attendants will retake your measurements.” Mrs. Barkley glanced back at the Duke. “She will only be a moment, Your Grace.”

“Carry on.” Archer waved his hand. “I’m sure I can amuse myself while I wait.”

Moments later, Lydia rejoined Archer in the viewing room. Taking a seat, she brushed her hand over the catalogs, not sure which one to pick.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it so quiet in here before.” Lydia glanced around. “And I feel like there is so much to choose and surely they will be furious at me for dithering.”

“Take your time,” he said as he poured her a cup of tea. “I rented out the shop for the afternoon. We will be the only patrons here for hours.”

A smile crept on Lydia’s face. “Archer, you didn’t need to do that.”

“Saves me the hassle of shouting at people. I’m not fond of crowded spaces with other customers. Especially those who seek to make idle conversation.”

“You make it sound like it’s the worst thing in the world.”

“I suppose the ton should be far tamer now that I am married. Prior to our union, mothers and fathers were persistent in trying to wed me to one of their young daughters. The fathers at least had the kindness of also talking business while trying to sell off their children.”

“It could not have been as bad as you say.” Lydia gave him an amused smile.

“You have clearly never had single women fling themselves at you from behind bushes.” He cocked his eyebrow at her. “Hordes of women in small groups whispering and gossiping about each other from across a room. It is worse than ally cats having a standoff.”

“Never mind what they do.” Lydia dismissed him as she flipped through the casual household wears. “It’s what keeps them busy. Better to have their focus on someone else anyway.”

“If only. The one time I took my sisters shopping without renting the space, everyone in the store suddenly went silent when we walked through the door. It was highly disturbing, like the calm before the storm. And then…”

Lydia paused for a moment to look at him. He had an odd look of fear on his face, as if he was reliving the most traumatic event of his life. “What happened?”

He shook off the dazed look and picked up one of the catalogs.

“Most of the young ladies were respectful. It’s the mothers that still haunt me.

” His Grace leaned back on the sofa and rested his arm behind her, trying to look more relaxed.

“Several of the bolder ones tried to introduce themselves by mentioning the large dowries naming of their daughters. The most bold tried to orchestrate her daughter and I alone in the changing room—thankfully, Cora put an end to that.”

“How?”

“She tackled the girl to the ground and announced that we were leaving. Not the most lady like but very much appreciated at the time. Since then, I always book out the store.” Archer shrugged.

For some reason, the thought of all those women throwing themselves at her husband rankled Lydia.

“With such a fine reputation, how could they not fall in your arms?” Lydia smirked.

Lydia broke down when Archer gave her the dirtiest look. He himself, however, could not keep a straight face. Lydia was becoming rather fond of his smile.

“These days I’m left alone, thanks to you. The one advantage of being married is I will never have to thwart another riot of women ever again.”

They shared a look, finally becoming content in each other’s presence.

“Pardon, Your Grace,” a soft voice of a young woman interrupted as she came in and handed Archer another stack of catalogs. “Here is our winter line if you had thoughts of pre-ordering some new clothing for the coming Season.”

“Thank you.” Her husband dismissed the attendant and placed the catalogs in Lydia’s lap, bringing their attention back to the task at hand.

“What do you think of this?” he gestured an illustrated evening gown. She felt the heat of his breath on the back of her ear. Her heart pounded as she became increasingly aware of how close they were.

She looked down as Archer inched closer, pointing to a pale, A-line gown with a gathered heart-shaped neckline. It had short, ruffled sleeves matching the eloquent ruffled trim along the hem of the dress. Lydia especially loved the embossed roses scattered along the skirt’s hem.

“Oh, my,” she said as she took the catalog. “I love it, but where would I wear such a dress to?”

“I can think of quite a few events,” he whispered, leaning in closer. “If not, we can always make our own occasions.”

She glanced up at him, startled by how close they were—his forehead inches from hers. She was nettled against his chest which surprised her. His warm arm that snaked around her shoulders drew her closer. Lydia relaxed into Archer’s warm embrace.

“Thank you, Archer.” Lydia couldn’t express the sheer joy that overwhelmed her. She excitedly hugged the catalog.

“Pick out a few more—as many as you would like,” Archer said enthusiastically. “You deserve that, and so much more.”

Lydia smiled, her heart pounding with excitement at buying new clothes. It was an odd sensation, having someone’s full attention on her and what she wanted. She felt cared for for the first time in a long time.

“Here,” Archer leaped from his chair and sauntered off.

“Archer?” Lydia called.

“One moment.” Lydia was perplexed by her husband’s abruptness.

As quickly as he had disappeared, he reappeared with an attendant who carried with her the store front display dress.

A stylish red, low-cut, V-neck ballgown.

The front had an elegant column-like design, and a gathered pouf in the back.

Its exceptionally long train caused the attendant to hold the dress as high as possible.

“You must try on one dress while we’re here,” Archer commanded.

“There’s no need?—”

“I insist.”

“I would be more than happy to help you into the dress, Your Grace,” the attended pipped up. “And there is no doubt you would look absolutely lovely.”

Lydia sighed, secretly happy, as a smile crept onto her face. “If you both insist…”

“Wonderful,” Archer claimed. “I’ll wait here.”

It did not take long for the attendant to help Lydia into the dress.

She paused at the curtain, hesitant to know what her husband would think. She felt slightly insecure.

“Your Grace,” the attendant whispered kindly. “You look stunning. I’m sure His Grace would love to see you in this dress.”

Lydia nodded, smiling. She took a deep breath and walked out into the sitting area, the attendant trailing after with the train gathered in her hands.

She walked around the chair to stand before Archer, her head lowered as she shyly awaited his reaction. When he said nothing, she glanced up, worry creeping in that it hadn’t pleased him.

He sat there, taking her in. His eyes roamed up and down as she shifted about nervously.

“Please say something. I can’t take much more of this silence. Is it that bad?”

“No.” His voice was hoarse, eyes full of that dark emotion from their wedding day.

Lydia felt his gaze on her as viscerally as if he had ran his hand across her skin. She looked nervously away as Archer circled her, reminding her of a hawk circling a mouse. She swallowed.

“Have you seen yourself?” Archer asked.

Lydia shook her head, and Archer led her to the full length mirror. Lydia struggled, unable to bring herself to look. “What if?—”

“Look Lydia. I promise, it will be worth it.” Archer’s voice was firm but gentle, calm but insistent.

Lydia took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. She gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. The woman before her was the most radiant person she had ever seen.

The dress made her height seem like an advantage, creating the illusion of elegance and grace even though Lydia felt anything but. Archer stood behind her, his handsome face dark with emotion that stirred the millions of butterflies within her stomach.

“You are gorgeous,” he breathed as he expectantly brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. His hands danced along the end of her cheek.

She finally looked up to meet his eyes and felt as though someone had her heart in a vice. “I did not think I could look like this.”

Archer let out a hoarse chuckle. But Lydia held up a finger to his lips. “Do not say ‘I told you so’. You will ruin the moment.”

His breath tickled her skin, and Archer nodded, clearing his throat. “I’ll get the dress paid for.”

Once Lydia returned with her dress packed in a nice little box, she sat down next to Archer, who was flipping through the catalogs once more. He did not hesitate to throw his arm around her again and cuddle up to her with a catalog resting in his lap.

“I didn’t get to do much shopping,” she said meekly, resting her head against his shoulder. “Even when my father was alive, and it was only ever for practical clothing. But after father got sick, I only ever had time to ask Mrs. McCallough for adjustments to my old dresses.”

He nodded. “From now on, you will buy only the latest dresses, and I demand you be as impractical as possible.” He played with a lock of her hair, twirling it between his fingers.

“You do that a lot,” Lydia noted.

“Hm?”

“Play with my hair.”

“Huh,” he said as he looked down at the strain in his fingers and kissed it. “I guess I just like your hair.” He tucked the strain back behind her ear. “If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

“I don’t mind,” she whispered, looking away abashedly. Lydia tried to focus more on the catalog than his fingers pulling at the loose strains that had fallen out of her updo.

They took their time looking at the rest of the catalogs, picking out evening wear, walking dresses, casual wear, and dresses Lydia needed for working around the house.

“What do think about purchasing one or two of these?” Archer picked up a catalog Lydia wouldn’t have given a second thought to. Riding habits were never something she needed as she had never ridden a horse before.

“Those won’t be necessary,” she stated and tried to turn back to the dresses.

“You do not ride, Duchess?”

“Father had an impending fear I would fall and break my neck, but that’s fine by me. I never took an interest in such things.”

“You only need to say the word, Duchess, and I would be more than happy to teach you how. Riding is quite a pleasurable pastime.”

Lydia snuck one last glance at the catalog, milling over the idea. “Hm…”

“Then we are in agreement,” he immediately started flipping through the pages.

“I never said?—”

“You hesitated. Worry not, Lydia, you are most certainly welcome to change your mind at any time. But,” he flirtatiously whispered in her ear, “just in case you care to join me on a jaunt, we’ll purchase a few habits.”

Lydia’s desire to buy a riding habit increased as Archer started pointing out fetching jackets.

As the day grew long, Lydia procrastinated on one final purchase. She cringed at the thought that she would have to bring up the final catalog she had yet to peruse.

“I’m afraid I will need some new… undergarments.” Lydia blushed at the confession.

Archer looked away, but Lydia noticed his ears turning pink. “Ha, well, you won’t need me for that. I’ll… take a walk while you sort that out.”

Half an hour later, Lydia found what she needed and called out for Mrs. Barkley. The woman mustn’t have gone far as she rushed in the moment the first syllable left Lydia’s lips. Archer followed behind and took a stance next to Lydia.

“Mrs. Barkley,” Archer said, taking charge, “please have this made and ready as soon as possible.” He handed her the bookmarked pages of each catalog.

He showed her the dresses they had picked out, and Lydia discreetly showed her the undergarments catalog which seemed to make Archer uncomfortable as he glanced up and around like he was looking for something.

Lydia laughed as she watched him try desperately not to look at the catalog filled with ladies’ corsets and underwear. Mrs. Barkley smiled coyly, and the ladies shared a grin.

“My, my, what a fine taste you have, Your Grace,” Mrs. Barkley said. “Oh, but what do you think of this one?” she pointed at a frilly pair of bloomers. “Do you not think His Grace would appreciate such suggestive ladies’ wear? Many husbands prefer this particular garment for its tightly shape.”

“Hm,” Lydia mocked. “I’m not sure. What do think, Your Grace?”

Archer coughed erratically, causing the women to burst out laughing.

“Very funny,” Archer heaved. “I’ll be waiting in the carriage.”

“I think that’s a yes, Mrs. Barkley,” Lydia called out after Archer.

Archer had provided Mrs. Barkley with the payment, so Lydia followed him out shortly.

He was sitting cross arm and legged when she boarded the carriage, and not once did he look her in the eye as he called for the driver to start their journey home.

Lydia sat in silence, pressing her lips tightly together, trying to hold in the giggles that threatened to bubble up.

She took great pleasure in watching her husband’s discomfort grow, the fierce blush in his cheeks slowly becoming a permanent fixture on his face.