Page 45 of My Dearest Duke

Vanessa wiped suddenly damp palms down the front of her gown.

No more demurely nodding a pleasant good night and watching Kingston depart for Quail Hollow before seeking her lonely chamber. Or, as he had on several occasions, closeting himself in Helmstead’s study to deal with business and estate matters since Quail Hollow’s was gutted at present.

At least the new roof was completed, and according to Kingston, any small, furry, crawly things that had once made the house their home had been sent on their way.

Having a soft heart toward all God’s creatures, Vanessa hadn’t inquired as to precisely what that meant.

Still gazing into the long glass, she rotated side to side, admiring the way the gown’s folds swished around her ankles. Never before had she felt so elegant or attractive. She was glad she’d let Madeline talk her into purchasing this fabric and suspected her sister-in-law was playing fairy godmother or matchmaker.

A small frown crimped Vanessa’s mouth as she considered her revealing decolletage. Possessing a neckline a trifle lower than she was accustomed to, the bodice emphasized her generous breasts swelling above the bodice. She’d seen far more skin exposed in London, but she’d never dared be so bold herself.

Canterbury proved to be a tremendous resource, and while the shops weren’t as prestigious as those on Bond Street, they’d been more than sufficient to outfit the six Barclay siblings in a manner that would no longer cause them chagrin.

Kingston fussed and huffed that he didn’t need any new clothes, but Vanessa had said if he refused to be fitted, she’d simply take his old clothes to the tailor. She needn’t have worried her husband was a fortune hunter.

The man could stretch a coin farther than anyone she’d ever met, and he made her feel quite the spendthrift when she’d always considered herself quite frugal and wise with funds.

True, she’d spent a considerable amount to date. However, considering how insufficient the Barclays’ wardrobes had been and the need to replace practically everything at Quail Hollow, she thought she’d done quite well economizing.

Kingston needn’t know that Vanessa only showed him a portion of the invoices and bills. Naturally, after the tension of renovating was finished, she’d reveal all. She wouldn’t keep secrets from her husband.

For certain, a few weeks in London were in order before Madeline’s and Rebecca’s come out. Nevertheless, there was plenty of time to prepare for that momentous occasion.

Gareth and Paxton required proper togs for Harrow—their choice of school next year.

Dorena’s wardrobe would also need expanding before she attended Mrs. Avelina Crablace’s School for Young Ladies—also her decision because of the institution’s emphasis on the sciences.

Nonetheless, there was no rush as the three youngest Barclays wouldn’t start instruction for a few months yet. It was too late to enroll them this year. This meant they had the whole summer before them, and Vanessa had many pleasant outings and events planned. Once the current bustle subsided, that was.

This morning, during her daily after-breakfast meeting with Kingston in the study, Vanessa had insisted on sponsoring Madeline’s and Rebecca’s Seasons. Quite naturally, if she did so, it would be most unfair to not also pay for the boys’ and Dorena’s tuition, as well as other expenses required for their education.

Kingston had been less than receptive to the suggestions.

Vanessa had also broached the subject of assuming the financial burden for an additional wing at Quail Hollow. After all, shouldn’t those with plenty do for those who lacked?

Kingston had strenuously objected, stating his family unequivocally would not abuse Vanessa’s generous nature. However, his argument had been cut short when the slight of frame but garish of attire—burnt orange, squash yellow, and fuchsia were never meant to be worn together, except perhaps as bird feathers—Monsieur LeTessier arrived for his thrice-weekly dance instruction.

“This conversation is not over, Vanessa. We shall finish it tonight,” Kingston had gritted out, lowering his head to speak directly into her ear lest any nearby servant overhear their exchange.

Instead of being shocked or peeved at the intensity of his tone, she’d only been able to focus on the warmth of his breath teasing her ear and how utterly delicious he smelled.

Shaving lather. Horse. Leather. And a hint of mint.

Gazing into the cheval mirror, Vanessa adjusted a curl, and at last, satisfied with her appearance, she left her bedchamber. Not, however, before casting a longing glance toward the door leading to what should’ve been the gentlemen of the house’s chamber.

Soon, she promised herself.

Soon,Kingston, we will truly be man and wife.