Page 39 of An Inconvenient Duke

Then she stepped into a little fitting room at the rear of the building and flung closed the curtain.

Oh, if Marcus could only see her now! This little quick-change act would prove that she was more than capable of hiding her identity and taking care of herself. His efforts to convince her to shut down Nightingale were completely unwarranted. And would certainly come to nothing in the end, as she had every intention of continuing to rescue women just like Mrs. Harris.

He might have been a determined general, but she was a stubborn society lady. His unstoppable force had just met her immovable mountain.

With a mischievous smile, she quickly began to undress. She’d show the man who was following her, and undoubtedly still lingering on the street and waiting for her to emerge from the front of the shop, that keeping watch on her wasn’t as easy as it seemed. She’d leave through the rear alley door, wearing a different dress and a bonnet that hid her hair and face. She’d be long gone before he realized that he’d been fooled.

“That’ll set him on a merry chase,” she mused as she reached behind her to unfasten the short row of pearl buttons at the back of her bodice.

She peeled herself out of her dress with a few contortions of her arms and twistings of her spine that left her cursing herself for leaving Alice at home this afternoon. A ripping of fabric—she winced. But it couldn’t be helped. Then off came the petticoat and her white stockings, until all she wore were her short stays and the thin shift beneath.

She held up the dress again and frowned at the bodice. With aggravation, she undid the front lacing of her corset and then began to tie it again, this time much more tightly, in order to restrict her breasts enough to fit into the smaller dress. Unfortunately, all that seemed to do was push them up higher. But it would have to do. Somehow.

Deciding to find a spencer that she could button up to her neck and hide whatever flesh spilled over the neckline, she propped her foot onto a stool in the rear of the fitting room and quickly rolled up the stocking to her knee.

Behind her, she heard the curtain’s grommets scrape against the rod as it was slowly pulled aside. She called over her shoulder without looking, “An emergency, Mrs. Harris. You can add the expense to my personal account.” She smiled as she secured the first stocking, dropped her foot to the floor, and bent down to pick up the second stocking. “I do have to say, though, that these stockings are absolutely beautiful.”

“I agree.”

Startled, she wheeled around at the sound of the deep voice.

She stared, surprised speechless, as Marcus held the curtain open with one hand and leaned his opposite shoulder against the doorpost in a pose so rakish that her pounding heart sank all the way down between her thighs. It continued to beat relentlessly there, stirring up all kinds of wanton yearnings.

His gaze slipped slowly over her, and he murmured, “Absolutely beautiful.”

“What are you doing here?” The question emerged as a hoarse whisper.

“Hoping to see you.” He arched a brow and helped himself to another lingering look at her curves. “I simply didn’t expect to see so much of you.”

“Stop that!” She grabbed the curtain from his hand and used it to cover as much of herself as possible. She glanced past him, which wasn’t easy, given how his tall, broad body filled the fitting room doorway. The workshop behind him was oddly empty, the assistants having all disappeared. “How did you get back here?”

“I’m a duke.” He crooked an arrogant grin. “People let me go anywhere I wish.”

“How convenient,” she drawled archly.

“Decidedly so.” Then the devil had the audacity to reach out for a stray curl that had come loose from its pins while she’d been dressing and rubbed it between his fingers and thumb. “I think I’ve finally found something that makes possessing the title a pleasure.”

“Stop that,” she repeated, but she couldn’t keep the husky purr from her voice. Nor did she find the resolve to slap his hand away, not even when he dared to trail a fingertip along her jaw. “What do you want, Marcus?”

“I’d say to learn all your secrets.” He took a single step to close the distance between them, then peered over the curtain to take a new view of her backside. “But I don’t think you have many of those left.”

“And fewer every day, apparently.” Although it wasn’t embarrassment at being seen half-dressed by him that pricked at her, particularly since the way that he stared at her made her tingle in all kinds of delicious ways. It was disappointment that he didn’t think her competent enough to take care of herself. “Especially when you set a guard to watch me.”

No surprise flashed over his face at being caught. Instead, he simply smiled that she’d figured it out and touched her cheek again. But this time, the caress didn’t spark a tingle inside her so much as a pleasant warmth. A sensation that was just as disconcerting.

He murmured, “I protect the people I care about.”

She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he meant anything more by that than friendship. Still, her silly heart danced a little jig, although her sober head knew better. “To watch over my house, you mean? To follow me everywhere I go?” In indignation, she tapped her finger on his waistcoat, only to catch her breath at the steely hardness of the muscles in his chest. “Will he waltz with me at Lady Northrop’s ball next week, too? Fetch me ices when I go strolling through the park? Save me a chair at the art exhibition?”

“Society events?” He gave an appalled shudder. “I’d never ask a man to sacrifice himself like that.”

Her patience snapped. Dropping the curtain, she grabbed his shoulders, wheeled him around, and gave a hard push to send him staggering out of the fitting room. “Out!” With a glaring scowl, she flipped the curtain back into place, then shoved a hand out to wag a finger at him. “Don’t eventhinkabout opening that curtain, sir.”

He replied with a low chuckle. Drat that devil!

With a titillating tingle at knowing that he stood only a few feet away as she finished dressing, she loosened her stays with a grateful sigh of relief and release. But she also couldn’t help thinking of the predatory gleam in his eyes when he saw her breasts, thrust up beneath the tight corset. And of how much she’d enjoyed it.

“How did you know to follow me in here?” She tugged on the petticoat. Perhaps if she kept him talking, he would keep his distance long enough for her to change back into her own clothes.