Page 48 of Caught By the Ruthless Duke
Cressida rather doubted that. Theodore excelled at silence—it was conversation he seemed to find unbearable.
Theodore stood at the base of the staircase, adjusting his cuffs with unnecessary force. John’s words had pursued him from White’s to his tailor and finally home, refusing to grant him even a moment’s peace.
Do something nice for her.
Well, he’d commissioned the damned gown. Harriet had mentioned Cressida’s favorite color to John, who’d naturally reported it with entirely too much satisfaction. Theodore hadsent for his aunt’s modiste that same afternoon, specifying emerald silk and requesting utmost discretion.
Not that discretion had lasted—Lady Seymore had sent a note that very evening expressing her delight at his “romantic gesture” and offering entirely unwanted advice about maintaining marital harmony.
Footsteps sounded above, and as soon as Theodore looked up, he forgot how to breathe.
Cressida descended the stairs like something from a painting, emerald silk flowing around her with liquid grace. Gold thread caught the candlelight, making her shimmer.
But it wasn’t the gown that struck him motionless. It was the way she moved, the tilt of her head, the quiet confidence in her bearing that he’d somehow failed to notice these past weeks while fleeing from room to room like a hunted animal.
She was…extraordinary.
“Duke.” Her voice carried careful neutrality as she reached him. “Thank you for the gown. It’s lovely.”
Theodore’s tongue felt thick, utterly useless in his mouth. She stood close enough that he could smell lavender and see the golden flecks in her green eyes. His carefully rehearsed response—something brief and dismissive that would maintain proper distance—died unspoken.
“You remembered,” Cressida continued when he failed to answer. “The color. I’m touched that you?—”
“We should depart.” The words came too harshly. “The carriage is waiting.”
He saw her expression shift, brightness dimming to resignation. She nodded once and moved past him toward the door, leaving him standing alone in the entrance hall, hating himself with renewed vigor.
The carriage ride stretched in uncomfortable silence. Theodore kept his gaze on the window while every fiber of his being remained acutely aware of her presence. Emerald silk rustled when she shifted. Her breathing was steady and controlled—the breathing of someone managing disappointment with practiced grace.
“Did Lord Whitebrook convince you?” Her voice cut through the quiet. “To commission the gown, I mean. It seems rather unlike you to suddenly remember such details.”
Theodore’s jaw clenched. “I thought you should have something appropriate for the evening.”
“How practical.” The edge in her voice could have cut glass. “For a moment, I imagined it might be a gesture of consideration. How foolish of me.”
He turned away from the window to find her watching him, her chin lifted in that defiant way that meant she was hurt and refusing to show it. Candlelight from the carriage lamps flickered across her face, illuminating the careful blankness of her expression.
“The gown suits you,” he said quietly.
“Yes. You chose well.” She smoothed the silk over her lap without looking at him. “You possess excellent judgment in matters of appearance and propriety, Duke. One might almost believe you cared about such things.”
“Cressida—”
“Please don’t.” She raised one gloved hand. “Whatever excuse you’ve prepared, I’d rather not hear it. We both understand this is for show. To present a united front at your aunt’s ball. To silence the whispers about our hasty marriage.”
Every word landed true. He had commissioned the gown for precisely those reasons—to demonstrate to society that the Duke and Duchess of Ashmere were a respectable couple worthy of their rank.
Except that wasn’t entirely accurate.
He had chosen emerald specifically because he’d asked her family’s staff about it, and they’d told her about a painting of her grandmother’s that Cressida often talked about.
Perhaps he could ask her about that painting himself one day.
“You’re right,” he relented. “The gesture was calculated.”
Cressida’s mouth tightened.
“But the color was deliberate.”
