Testing Miss Toogood

by Stella Cameron

  The neckline of the gown sank to a deep V front and back and long sleeves ended in points at her hands. A gored skirt didn’t reach her ankles, except where the gathered section swept much longer over the heels of her shoes.

  After a light tap, Blanche bustled into the room and whispered in the modiste’s ear. Whatever she said got a nod, yes, and Blanche—her face very pink—returned to the door. “You’re to come in, my lord,” she said, then rushed to position a chair where Lord Dominic could sit behind Fleur but see her in the mirror.

  Her heart leaping, Fleur watched him in that mirror, watched him enter her bedchamber without looking at her and saunter to the chair Blanche held for him. She would, Fleur thought, have to practice a great deal more before she’d be able to come close to the ferociousness of the man’s frown.

  “Thank you,” he said to Blanche who left with evident reluctance. Finally he looked directly at Fleur. He crossed his arms, stretched out his long, strongly muscled legs and crossed his booted feet. “Good afternoon, Miss Toogood.” He settled with his head tilted to give him the best possible view of her—and he used that view to its best advantage. By the time he finished examining every inch of her—minutely—Fleur’s skin tingled.

  “Good of you to take such an interest, my lord,” the modiste said and bobbed a curtsey. “The Dowager Marchioness told me you insisted on advising Miss Toogood on her wardrobe.”

  He grunted.

  For two pins, Fleur thought, she would remind him that she’d told him not to come. She’d have to be blind not to see that he didn’t want to be here at all. What confused her most was that from Neville’s reaction to their visitor it must not be an unusual event for a gentleman to be present for such intimate sessions. Things were so different in London.

  “It’s too big,” he said suddenly, and sniffed.

  The modiste bobbed again and said, “You’re right, of course. The dress isn’t finished and will be made to fit Miss Toogood perfectly.” She went to work, deftly adjusting the garment.

  “What do you think of it?” Lord Dominic asked, catching Fleur’s eyes in the mirror. “Like it, do you?”

  “Yes, my lord. I think it’s beautiful. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn.”

  “Any dress you wore would be beautiful,” he said, frowning as deeply as ever. “You are beautiful. Remember that. When you go about, people will remark on you. You carry yourself well and your voice is pleasant. Hattie—my sister-in-law—she will give you invaluable advice. The idea is to turn heads and you will certainly do that.”

  Fleur’s heart beat faster yet. “Thank you for your kind words.”

  “There’ll be curiosity about who you are, who your people are. You’ll be asked questions you may find rude.”

  “I will be proud to tell anyone who my people are.”

  At last he smiled slightly. “I should have known that’s what you would say. I suggest you say you are the orphaned child of my mother’s sister-in-law and in Mother’s care now. Should someone say they were unaware of Mother’s brother, explain that he died in India—shortly before you were born. Killed by a mercenary. Your mother passed on recently and you came to us. Tell them the Dowager wants you to be the daughter she never had.”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” Fleur said, outraged by his idea.

  “I did expect you to say that,” he said. “The story is true, all but for you playing any part in it, or there having been a child at all. Now I’ll explain some of life’s realities to you. The bodice could be tighter, Neville.”

  “Not if I want to breathe,” Fleur told him and not gently. She didn’t point out that the neckline already revealed too much of her and if the thing were made tighter, her flesh would have no place to go but out—out of the bodice, that was.

  Did his lordship smirk? He did. At least he had the grace to lower his gaze but his amusement deepened the dimples near his mouth and he looked…self-satisfied. The handsome rattle!

  Neville tightened the bodice and Fleur looked at the way she blossomed out of the neckline. “I don’t think it should be like this,” she said firmly, all too aware of his lordship’s presence.

  “It’s perfect, Neville,” Lord Dominic said, and to Fleur, “very nice indeed, Miss Toogood. A woman dresses for a man, not for herself, and as a man I can tell you—”

  “Is it necessary for women to be uncomfortable in order for men to be happy?” Fleur said, not caring if she interrupted him.

  “Are you uncomfortable?” he said. “Where do you hurt?”

  “Ooh,” Fleur said, too irritated to contain herself. “Men. Why must you answer questions with questions? There are more ways to be uncomfortable than because of physical pain.”

  “The gown hurts you elsewhere? Surely not in your mind?”

  He would not find her a witless pudding brain. “Certainly in my mind,” she said. “The idea of popping out of a dress in public places gives me a headache.”

  “Better than falling into it, I assure you,” Lord Dominic said. His nostrils flared and his smirk became a wide, purely evil grin. This man enjoyed torturing people he considered helpless. Well, she would show him. She would show him that Fleur Toogood had a strong mind of her own. The only questions were how she would do it—and when.

  “She is so tiny here, my lord,” Neville said, running a finger just beneath the bodice. “The lines will be irresistible.”

  “I can see that.”

  He saw too much and took too long about it. Fleur had thought of something to add to The List. A man might be human and weak—in fact she had every reason to believe this was the case for most of their kind—but with some strengthening of the backbone and more time spent in prayer for a pure mind, even men could mend their lascivious ways.

  “Small here,” Neville said, placing a hand on Fleur’s hip. “When I’m working with a lady like Miss Toogood, I’m grateful for the simple softness of styles at the moment. They draw attention to, er, difficult areas on some ladies but in this case they show things off lovely.”

  “I’m grateful for that, too,” Lord Dominic said.

  Fleur felt his eyes on her face and couldn’t avoid looking back at him. His intense regard, the intensity in eyes that seemed—hot?—stole away anything she might have said. The very corners of his mouth tipped up and his eyes narrowed the smallest amount.

  She returned his gaze, aware that goosebumps climbed her spine all the way to her neck and her scalp prickled. And…my goodness, she almost put her hands to her breasts. They ached and the tips hardened. And she had no doubt what caused such a strange and, well, marvelous feeling. Him. Lord Dominic had some sort of powers over her and she thought she liked the result a great deal, which was probably harmless and part of the process of maturing sexually. However, where he was concerned she should not take such reactions seriously.

  “Do you have jewelry, Miss Toogood?”

  To have romantical notions, or worse, what could only be carnal desires in response to this man would be futile.

  “Miss Toogood,” he said. “I asked if you have jewelry.”

  She stared at him hard and wondered if she ought to say she considered his presence at such a time, and his opinions, unsuitable. “What do you think of a velvet band around the neck, Neville?” she asked, deliberately ignoring Lord Dominic. You can put a flower or a satin rosette, or even a little pin at the front and it looks very pretty. Mama sent her gold pin with me. It has a pearl in it and I should enjoy using that. It belonged to my grandmother. I know lots of tricks to make things pretty and spend very little money doing so.”

  Neville didn’t answer and her round face lost its expression, but her skin turned pink. Fleur was certain the lady held her breath.

  Lord Dominic stirred and leaned to rest his elbows on his knees. “I appreciate imagination,” he said and Fleur glowed.

  “Last year we had a dance at the village hall—that’s in Sodbury Martyr where we live—and I wore one of my sister Letitia’s frocks.
Quite a plain frock but good material. Pale green. I tucked the skirt like this.” She bent over and caught up seams between two of the gores. “At each tuck I sewed a deep green bow and the dress looked completely different.”

  Still holding the hem, she glanced up at Neville, then at Lord Dominic.

  His interest was held rather lower than her face.

  Furious, mortified, Fleur straightened up at once and put a hand to the neckline of the dress. Animals, that’s what some men could be. This man’s only salvation would be through lots and lots of prayer. That and by marrying and having a family of his own. Family life taught men the true value of things. Fleur’s papa had told her as much and he never lied.

  “I wish I had seen the green dress,” Lord Dominic said. “Neville must make you something in green.” It was possible he felt chagrined. He looked at her with gentleness now.

  “I brought the one I altered with me,” she said, pleased she could show that she wasn’t the type of person to take advantage.

  “Did you?” he said. “I should like to see just how tall you are beside me.”

  She spread her arms and smiled wryly. “This is all of me. I have wished to be taller like my sister Letitia who is so graceful.”

  “So are you.” He got up and beckoned to her. “Come. A man doesn’t have to be a great deal taller than his wife, but I doubt you would be pleased if he was shorter—not when you are a small person yourself.”

  Fleur remembered to pull her eyebrows together and walked hesitantly to stand in front of him.

  “Hmm,” he murmured while she looked straight ahead at the V where the front of his waistcoat crossed over.

  His lordship had a lovely chest, solid looking and built to fill out fine clothes to advantage.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  Fleur raised her face in time for him to slide a hand around to the middle of her back. He offered her his other hand and she placed hers on top.

  “A little bit of a thing,” he said with a short laugh. “How do you feel about the size of a man?”

  What she felt at the moment was overheated. “I like a man to be substantial,” she said and trembled inside. This was such personal talk.

  “Substantial, hmm? At least you don’t simper and waffle about your opinions. A substantial man is your preference. I shall bear that in mind.”

  He made a turn with her, and then another. His hand at her back burned. Or perhaps she burned because of his hand. A little pressure and their toes almost touched. Other parts did touch and Fleur retrained her gaze on Lord Dominic’s waistcoat. She couldn’t do a thing about a tumble of sensations. Their dance without music continued. His lordship’s very solid thighs pressed against her, and her breasts brushed his chest.

  The most ridiculous, most inconvenient urges all but overwhelmed her. She wanted to soften against him, to relax, to wrap her arms around his waist, rest her face against chest and close her eyes.

  She would do no such thing and this had gone on far too long. “So now you know how tall I am,” she said, stepping back, or trying to. He took a moment to release her.

  He stared down at her, his face rigid, fists on hips, and a deep breath raised his chest. “I think I know a great deal about you.”

  Fleur doubted that.

  “One moment,” he said. “Raise your chin.” Fleur did as he asked and his next touch turned her legs, and the very depths of her womanly places, both weak and overheated. With the back of his first finger, he started at the very lowest part of her neckline where he came in skin to skin contact with her breasts, and brushed ever so slowly upward, pausing from time to time while he rubbed almost imperceptibly and watched what he did. At last his finger rested in the hollow at the base of her neck. “Irresistible,” he said. “I shall regard it as my duty to see that you are found by a man worthy of you. Both of your mind…and your body. A man of highly developed taste.”

  “You make me sound like a suckling pig,” Fleur said, her voice too high.

  Lord Dominic threw back his head and laughed, displaying his very white, very strong teeth. His hand remained on her neck and as his laughter subsided, he all but enclosed that slender neck in one large hand. “You are a marvel. Little wonder Mother is so taken with you. Only trust me, Fleur, and I will be a completely reliable champion.” As he spoke he caressed her neck and his eyes never moved from her throat.

  Fleur thought him a potentially dangerous champion, but the…She clapped her hands to her cheeks. Any thought of being wildly excited by the flamboyant and reckless Lord Dominic was forbidden.

  Would he, she wondered, be a thoughtful but melting, mad-making lover? Oh, she must, at the earliest opportunity, spend a long time examining her conscience. And perhaps she should consider devouring fewer romantical novels. Fie, anything but that!

  Again he massaged her neck and showed signs of returning his path to her decolletage. He did spread his fingers wide on her vulnerable skin. “This neck, these ears, these delicate wrists and fine fingers were made for adornment.” His touch lingered on each part he mentioned. “We must make sure your toilette is the envy of the ton. Neville, continue. Pay close attention to fit.”

  With complete nonchalance, he strolled to the bed and tossed lengths of fabric aside, handling a piece here, wrinkling his nose at another there. He pulled out a bolt of heavy silk in a rich shade of orange-gold. “Make her something in this. It will turn her hair to fire. And I should also like to see her in red.”

  “Red, my lord?”

  “Red, Neville. And now I must go. I’ve spent far too long here as it is.”

  Nathan met Dominic halfway up the lower staircase. “By God, man, where have you been?”

  “Assisting Miss Toogood with her wardrobe for the Season.”

  Nathan’s eyebrows rose. “You poor devil. What’s she like? An ugly duckling, I imagine.”

  The temptation to tell Nathan he was right left Dominic quickly. Even the briefest encounter with the lady would prove him a liar. “She’s comely, very comely. A completely countrified miss, though. Not the slightest idea how to conduct herself in the type of surroundings she’s about to enter. Praise be that Hattie’s coming. She knows how hard these things can be for someone who wasn’t born to them.”

  “Yes,” Nathan said, “But Hattie’s the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen.

  Dominic couldn’t hide a smile. “She is indeed and I mustn’t forget how beauty can ease the way of a girl without connections or blunt. Except for her connections to us, of course.”

  “Of course,” Nathan said slowly, casting a deeply suspicious eye upon Dominic. “Miss Toogood isn’t just comely, is she?”

  “No,” Dominic said. “Of course I don’t have time for all this escort nonsense but if I were you I might wish Mother had chosen me for the job rather than my brother.”

  Nathan looked speculative and said, “You don’t say.” Then he grabbed Dominic’s arm. “You distracted me, damn it. You’ll never guess who’s waiting for you in the study.”

  Dominic didn’t have a clue and shook his head.

  “I’ll give you a hint. Stolen away by a cavorting dandy in pretty clothes and paint.”

  “I’ll have McGee’s head,” Dominic said, striding down the stairs two at a time. “The instructions were absolutely clear. Jane Weller was to be taken directly to Mother. What if someone with less than kind motives sees her in this house?”

  “Miss Weller hasn’t arrived yet, although she very well may at any moment—and therein lies the rub, brother. We must have a plan because the woman in the study is Gussy Arbuthnot, Victoria Crewe-Burns’s closest friend.”

  7

  McGee stomped to his hideaway in an enclosed butler’s chair and climbed inside. He pulled his head back into the shadows—to hide his aggravated expression, Dominic supposed.

  “Now we’ll suffer,” Nathan said, his eyebrows raised in the middle. “You suggested he isn’t following directions when he is and always does. He could hardl
y get Miss Weller to Mama if the girl hasn’t shown up yet.”

  Dominic took his brother by the arm, pulled him to the back of the great hall and behind the staircase. “Stay there,” he said. “If Jane Weller does come, let McGee answer the door but be ready to pounce on the girl before she can enter, then carry her off to the Dower House. It would be a disaster if Gussy saw her.”

  “She’ll scream. Have you thought of that?”

  “Put your hand over her mouth until you’ve reassured her. Say Brother Juste sent you and she’s not to mention him, not to anyone. Then just tell her about Gussy being in the house and that will be enough. She’ll be grateful to be swept off her feet then. Mama won’t be so easily diverted. Take her aside and explain how we’re helping a monk.”

  “Dominic! If Mama discovers you’ve turned into a liar, she’ll be crushed.” Nathan looked truly concerned.

  “Please do it,” Dominic said. “Trust me. She’ll do what we ask and she would do something similar if we were in need of help. Now I have to make sure Gussy doesn’t get wind of anything.”

  Nathan wrinkled his nose. “I must say I was a bit miffed when I learned Gussy was here to see you. Always thought she had a thing for me.”

  “She probably isn’t here to further any romantic notions.”

  “Why is she, then?”

  “I hope to find that out shortly, don’t I?” Dominic said, not looking forward to the interview. “Before I go in there…any rumors floating around? Anything that might be useful dealing with this kidnapper?”

  “Not a thing. No hint of an abduction last night. But then, we wouldn’t expect an announcement, would we? We’ll have to rely mostly on luck and we need to question the Weller girl at length.”

  “And we will,” Dominic said. He glanced at Nathan. “If she shows up, as I rather think she will.”

  “She could have lost her nerve and made a run for it. Gone home perhaps.” Nathan looked glum.

  “Cheer up,” Dominic said. “A man doesn’t think straight when he’s feeling sorry for himself.” When his brother’s green eyes took on the quality of a depressed cat, trouble was almost always on the horizon. They said Nathan’s flamboyant good looks drove the women wild but Dominic couldn’t see it himself.