“Elsewhere?” What was he talking about? She knew about the Royal Academy, and even a possible ball if things worked out and Viscount Pickens invited them to his wife’s birthday celebration. But what else did he have in mind?
“You promised to help me find the painting, remember? It may require more outings,” he said.
Grayson considered everything a costume, she reminded herself, similar to his liveried footmen. She felt a moment’s dismay. But her thoughts fled when the modiste led them past racks of clothing and easels of sketches to the back of the shop where the bolts of cloth were stored.
Oh my! Shelves stacked with colorful bolts of silks, satins, cashmere, crepe, brocades, merino, velvets, taffeta, and twill made her gasp in delight.
Eliza immediately thought of her sisters. Amelia would be drawn to the colors and textures like an artist to a varying color palette; Chloe would be ecstatic. Eliza suddenly wished they were here to experience the dress shop firsthand.
Mrs. Gardner reached for a bolt of sapphire silk and unrolled a yard to show Eliza. The material was so fine it felt like a waterfall between her fingers. She couldn’t imagine the cost to make a gown of such luxurious material.
“It’s lovely,” Eliza breathed.
“You will wear it well,” Grayson said.
A satisfied smile crossed the dressmaker’s face. “I have sketches you must see and pick the design of your gown. Whatever you decide upon, this silk will be ravishing.”
“Mrs. Somerton also requires an evening dress for the day after tomorrow. Something suitable for a visit to the Royal Academy,” Grayson asked.
The dressmaker halted. “All my clothing is made to order; however, I do have something a customer never picked up.”
Mrs. Garner motioned to a forest green dress on display in a corner. With a high waist and rounded bodice adorned with crystal beading, Eliza’s breath caught. She longed to feel the satin against her skin. Years ago, when Chloe was a child and her father was knighted and selling his own original paintings, they had worn fine, fashionable dresses.
“This is the one,” the dressmaker said. “Simple but elegant, and with a few adjustments it can be ready quickly.” Removing the garment, she held the fabric to Eliza’s cheek. “See how the color brings out her emerald eyes. Exquisite!”
“Exquisite, indeed,” Grayson said softly.
His attention was riveted on Eliza’s face, not the dress. A shiver of excitement ran down her spine at the intensity in his eyes.
“If you would follow me to the fitting room, you can try on the dress and I shall make adjustments,” Mrs. Gardner instructed.
They followed the dressmaker to the back of the store into a chamber with four closed-off spaces with curtains. A round pedestal was in the center of the room before a cheval glass mirror.
Mrs. Gardner pulled back a drape, hung the dress inside, and motioned for Eliza to enter the space. “I shall help you with your stays.” Turning to Grayson, she said, “My lord, you will be comfortable sitting in the showroom.”
“No, I want to see it,” Grayson said, choosing a chair in the corner.
Eliza’s gaze flew to Grayson, then Mrs. Gardner. Surely the dressmaker would protest?
But Mrs. Gardner didn’t blink. “Of course, my lord.”
…
Grayson didn’t know what he was doing sitting inside the dressing room. He felt like a fool. Waiting for the curtain to open like a child at a magician’s show, he sat on a dainty, rosewood chair that was far too small for his frame. Only he was no child and a magician was not hidden behind the curtain.
He could come up with all manner of arguments to explain his behavior. He needed Eliza to accompany him to the Royal Academy. He needed her to engage Viscount Pickens and obtain an invitation to his upcoming ball.
But none of those arguments could explain why he sat and waited.
He wanted to see her in a beautiful dress. He wanted to see her out of the dress.
He wanted to see her.
The curtain opened and Eliza emerged, followed by Mrs. Gardner.
He sucked in a breath as Eliza stepped up onto the pedestal.
The dressmaker clapped her hands in excitement. “Just as I thought! The color is lovely and the seams can easily be taken in.”
Grayson’s mouth went dry at the sight. The dressmaker had pinned the dress so that it fit Eliza like a second skin. The low beaded neckline accentuated her magnificent breasts and the high waist revealed the feminine curve of her hips and made her legs look endlessly long. He imagined those long legs wrapped around him as he slid inside her body. He became instantly aroused, and his tailored trousers grew tight.
Eliza’s face was flushed with happiness. She spun around on the pedestal, revealing a glimpse of slender ankles.
Grayson shifted restlessly in his seat and looked away.
A scrap of sheer, black silk hanging from a sewing basket caught his eye. He envisioned Eliza wearing undergarments made from the silk, and his heart pounded.
Why the hell was he torturing himself?
The dressmaker retrieved her pincushion and hovered around Eliza like an overzealous mother hen. “Stand straight for the hem.”
Eliza ran her hands down the skirt lovingly. “It’s such a beautiful fabric. It’s been years since—” She stopped midsentence and a flush crossed her face.
A true professional, Mrs. Gardner did not comment on Eliza’s slip.
Grayson wondered when was the last time Eliza had purchased a dress or any new item for herself. He experienced satisfaction in seeing her happiness. She was so unlike the spoiled ladies he normally associated with at society functions. His prior mistresses would never protest if he spent money on their wardrobe. To the contrary, they had demanded it.
But Eliza demanded nothing.
He was amazed by her integrity. She was a struggling shopkeeper, a young woman who was thrust into the role of providing for her younger sisters. Desire for a beautiful woman like Eliza was understandable, expected even. But admiration and respect were entirely different emotions—uncomfortable emotions that complicated his already perplexing feelings toward her.
“A pin has come loose. Raise your arms and I’ll refasten the bodice,” the dressmaker said.
Eliza complied, and the already snug bodice stretched across her ample breasts. Grayson thought he would burst with need. He realized he wanted to buy her pretty things, and experienced a sudden desire to lavish her with silks, satins and jewels. He pictured her as his mistress, dressing for his pleasure.
His mistress.
Why hadn’t he thought of it before?
It was a simple solution. He would buy a town house where they could spend long, lustful afternoons and sizzling evenings—far way from her business, her sisters, and his tedious estate ledgers and the bevy of hounding aspiring artists who sought his constant attention.
He couldn’t marry her. He must consider Sara’s reputation and future as well as his title. But he needn’t offer her a ring. Men of his status wouldn’t blink an eye at the notion of him claiming Eliza Somerton as his mistress.
“That should suffice,” the dressmaker said, interrupting Grayson’s erotic thoughts. “For the other garments, you must choose from sketches and fabrics. Excuse me a moment while I fetch the sketches.” Mrs. Gardner rushed off.
Eliza stood perched on the pedestal. With the dress pinned, she was forced to wait until the seamstress returned. She bit her bottom lip, obviously uneasy alone in his presence. She was such an enigma to him. She acted the part of an experienced, worldly widow, but there was such sexual innocence in her eyes. He couldn’t remember a time he wanted a woman so badly.
A sudden need to learn more about her compelled him to sit forward in the dainty chair.
“Was it a love match?” he asked.
Her delicate brows furrowed. “Pardon?”
“Your marriage. Did you love him?”
She hesitated and glanced at the tips of her stock
inged feet. He thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she raised her eyes. “As I explained, Mr. Somerton was much older.”
He stood. “Ah, I understand.”
Even perched on the pedestal, she had to look up to meet his eyes. Her hair was pinned at her nape revealing her cat-like green eyes and elegant neck. “What do you mean by that?”
“There was no passion between you.”
Her eyes sparked. “There was passion!”
“I’m not speaking of mere consummation of the marriage vows.”
“Then what?”
He took a step forward. “Lust. Desire.”
She stiffened, and for some reason her nervousness aroused him further.
“You speak out of place, my lord,” she said.
“It’s Grayson. Call me Grayson,” he demanded.
Her stubborn little chin jutted forward. “Fine. You speak out of place, Grayson.”
“I don’t think so, Eliza,” he said softly. He stepped closer, until he could see the pulse beating rapidly at her nape. He wanted to make her heart beat faster, and an image of her gasping for breath as she climaxed beneath him flashed through his mind. “I’d like to teach you about passion.”
Her full lips parted. “It’s wrong,” she whispered.
“An attraction this strong cannot be wrong.”
She was poised before him like a piece of ripe fruit. He was starving, he just needed to reach out and touch her.
He cupped her cheek. “You feel it. Don’t you?”
Her green eyes widened. “No.” Her voice broke.
“You remind me of rare art. Beautiful and exotic at once. Meant to be viewed for pleasure and handled with utmost care.”
Her breasts rose and fell in her bodice. “Stop.”
“I’d like that privilege,” he said huskily. “I’d treat you well. Teach you about the pleasures of the flesh, teach you everything you haven’t experienced and always yearned to learn.”
Her eyes were like liquid pools at his erotic words. Her pink lips parted.
Nothing could stop him from kissing her at that moment. A flash of eager anticipation mirrored in her eyes when she realized his intent, and he felt a thrill of male satisfaction. He’d kiss her and convince her of his plans to make her his mistress.
It was brilliant. It was perfect.
He pushed aside a nagging guilt about his intent to bring her father to justice. At that moment his heated blood was focused on her.
He dipped his head, his lips inches from hers…
She inhaled deeply, then suddenly winced and grasped the edge of her bodice. “Ouch!”
Startled, he swiftly pulled back.
She raised her arm to reveal a protruding pin. A trickle of blood oozed from a scratch on the tender skin of her underarm. “The blasted pin!”
“Hold still,” he commanded.
He studied the fabric and realized the head of the pin was inside the bodice. Reaching inside the dress, his fingers touched the soft, warm flesh of the side of her breast. His nostrils flared as the delicate scent of lilacs filled his senses. Careful not to cause her more pain, he slid the pin from the fabric. The satin gaped slightly and revealed a glimpse of rosy nipple above her chemise.
His blood ran hot and heavy through his body. His eyes rose to hers, and a ripple of excitement passed between them. His thumb grazed the wound where the pin had injured her.
She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
He slowly bent his head to kiss the side of her breast.
She sucked in a breath, but didn’t push him away. Emboldened, he licked her skin, and she made a strangled sound.
She was sweet and warm and exotic at once. “Don’t deny you feel the attraction between us. We must explore it further,” he murmured against her skin.
“No,” her voice was weak.
He straightened and looked in her eyes. “Yes. It’s rare and special.”
“We cannot,” she breathed.
He was desperate. He just needed to kiss her once. No pins or distractions. He lowered his head to her lips.
Just then footsteps sounded in the hall. Eliza jerked back, clutched the green fabric to her breast, and leaped off the pedestal to flee into the fitting room. She pulled the curtain closed just as Mrs. Gardner rushed into the room with a stack of sketches in her arms.
“Perhaps you can help with the selection, my lord.” She dumped the pile of sketches into his arms. The shop’s bell chimed in the distance alerting her to another customer in her shop. “Pardon me for a moment as I see who has arrived.” She turned and once again hurried down the hall into the showroom.
Frustration roiled inside Grayson at the shopkeeper’s untimely interruption. He glanced down at the sketches in his arms. He couldn’t care less about them. His mind was consumed with what was happening behind the curtain. He pictured Eliza taking off the dress, the material sliding down her long legs, her upthrust breasts swelling above her corset. The curtain was only feet away. He could easily part the fabric, help her with her hooks and stays. Plant the seeds of seduction once again. Hint toward his plans of making her his lover.
He dumped the sketches on the chair. He stepped forward, his hand outstretched to reach for the curtain.
“Is that the Earl of Huntingdon’s carriage in front of the shop?” The frighteningly familiar voice pierced his sexual haze, and his hand dropped to his side.
He’d know that feminine voice in his sleep. In fact he had heard it in his sleep.
Leticia. His former mistress was here.
Damn.
Chapter Fifteen
Eliza breathed heavily in the tiny fitting room and rested her head against the wall. The plaster was cool, unlike her overheated skin. There was no point in denying her attraction. Grayson exuded a potent masculinity that effortlessly stole her senses. She was drawn to him and her rioting emotions were impossible to control when he was near. She relived the moment his lips grazed her exposed skin and then he’d licked her…
Sweet Heaven! Her knees still felt weak.
She shook her head. Such an attraction was dangerous. What good could come from her growing desire for him? A future was out of the question.
She had to regain some semblance of control. She had to protect her sisters, her business, and her way of life. Huntington already knew too much, and his shrewd intelligence had led him to suspect even more. He talked of the lack of passion in her marriage only to speak of exploring the ever-present desire between them. She agreed to help him, she even trusted him with Amelia’s secret, but that did not give him free license to delve into all of her past.
No one must know the full truth.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart. She was ensconced behind a curtain. Yet she felt anything but safe. Grayson was just beyond and waiting. One step, maybe two, and he could fling open the curtain and pull her back into his arms.
The question was: would she be able to resist him?
She made a renewed effort to reach for the back of the dress, but the pinned fabric made it too difficult. Where in heaven’s name was the dressmaker?
She was just about to peek between the curtains, when she heard the rustle of skirts and a feminine gasp.
“Grayson! What an unexpected surprise.” A woman’s voice—definitely not Mrs. Gardner’s.
“Good afternoon, Leticia,” Grayson said.
Eliza listened with bewilderment. The woman must be on very familiar terms with him to call him by his Christian name. Eliza froze as a memory surfaced in her mind. Then Eliza recalled what his sister, Sara, had said when she’d climbed into her carriage. Hadn’t Sara mentioned a woman by that name who’d frequently visited Grayson in the evenings? Wasn’t Leticia’s formal title Lady Kinsdale?
“I haven’t seen you since the Ruskin ball, darling. I never knew you had an interest in ladies’ fashions,” the woman said.
“Leticia—”
The lady’s tone turned husky. “You must come calling
again soon, Grayson. You can review the state of my wardrobe.”
Eliza gasped at the outrageous comment. Parting the curtain an inch, she peeked out to see a stunning blond woman. With fashionably styled silvery hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, she looked like a porcelain doll. She was in complete contrast to Eliza’s dark looks. She was also a lady. Her gown of fine silk appeared costly and was the height of fashion. And her jewels! Her gold necklace had a large ruby the size of a walnut that glittered between her breasts.
Leticia placed a slender hand on Grayson’s sleeve and leaned close to whisper something in his ear. The intimate gesture was even more telling than her words.
Eliza’s stomach sank and her fingers fisted in her skirts. She’d nearly succumbed to Grayson’s skillful seduction moments ago. His words reverberated through her mind: Don’t deny you feel the attraction between us. We must explore it further. It’s rare and special.
What had she been thinking?
He wanted to bed her when he was still having an affair with that woman? Leticia’s arrival, no matter how distasteful, reminded Eliza of her place.
They were from different worlds. She was a shopkeeper and he was an earl with ladies like Leticia at his whim. They had nothing in common.
What a fool she’d been!
Ignoring the potentially treacherous pins, Eliza pushed the curtain aside and swept into the room.
“Has the dressmaker returned, my lord?” Eliza said.
The blond woman’s eyes widened in surprise, and Eliza experienced a flash of triumph. But just as quickly, Leticia’s shock was replaced with a facade of indifference.
“Have I interrupted something?” Leticia’s painted lips curled in a sly smile.
Grayson’s expression had changed from when Eliza had stood on the pedestal before him. The heated look in his dark eyes was replaced with a cool detachment.
He turned to the blond woman. “If you would be kind enough and summon the dressmaker. That would be most helpful.”
The woman stiffened slightly at the obvious dismissal, then recovered with a sultry smile. “Of course. Don’t forget my offer.” Leticia departed with a swirl of silk skirts.
Several heartbeats passed as Eliza and Grayson stared at each other. Eliza finally came to her senses. If he wasn’t going to leave, then she would. She intended to find the dressmaker as quickly as possible and get out of the pin-riddled dress.
An Artful Seduction Page 12