Page 21 of The Duchess Debt

He set down his plate and muttered, “I wish I were.”

His gaze returned to her mouth as he watched her eat the juicy bite. The way he stared was deliciously unsettling. His heart might have been broken to the point of distrust, but he still wanted her. Of that much she was absolutely certain.

“But if the decision to have a small reception has already been made,” he continued, “then you’ll have a ready excuse to reject their offerings. As a bonus, you can place the blame squarely on me while remaining in the merchants’ good graces.”

“Hmm.” Her brow lifted knowingly. “And how convenient that you don’t like big parties and would prefer hosting something small.”

“Actually, I’d prefer hosting nothing at all.” When she sent him a frowning glare, he added conciliatorily, “But you deserve a celebration, and I want you to have a good one.”

“And keep you out of the decision-making as much as possible?” She reached for a ripe blackberry.

He snatched it up before her fingers grasped it and popped it into his mouth. “Exactly.”

Giving him the scolding shake of her head he deserved, she pushed away from the table and crossed the room to the sideboard. A row of silver chafing dishes waited there, with their warming candles still flickering beneath and filled with all kinds of breakfast goodies. Judging from how much was left as she peered into each one, Larkin had expected Gabe and Verity to eat enough for a small army. As an engaged woman, Helena’s own breakfast would have been served on a tray in her room, if she hadn’t left early to catch Gabe.

That, too, would change after today.

She picked up a clean plate. “And making decisions about my wedding dress?” She kept from looking at him over her shoulder as she said that by reaching for the silver serving spoon with the letter T sculpted on its handle in delicately crafted grape vines. She placed a generous helping of berries onto her plate. “Is that protecting me, too?”

“Mrs. Swenson is the best seamstress in Kent.”

She caught her breath at the deep voice coming from immediately behind her. Her skin prickled with awareness of his unexpected nearness.

“She knows it, too.”

He reached around her and snagged a blackberry from her plate, the same as she’d tried to do to his. Instead of eating it himself, though, he placed it to her lips, which were now parted softly as she tried to remember to breathe.

She opened her mouth and allowed him to set it on her tongue, then closed her eyes as she slowly bit into it and let the juicy sweetness cover her tongue. The casual gesture reminded her so poignantly of how relaxed they had once been around each other, how completely at ease.

But now, her spiking pulse belied that ease.

“Mrs. Swenson’s final costs always end up being at least twice her estimates, and I don’t want your wedding day to be ruined by having to haggle over the bill. If you tell her three hundred pounds up front,” he explained, “you’ll receive three hundred pounds worth of gown. If you don’t set a limit, she’ll bill you for a thousand.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder and was struck again by how tall he was, how broad and hard, how handsome… How close he stood when she needed to keep her mind clear, this morning of all mornings. So she swallowed and faced him, with her breakfast plate raised between them like a poor battle shield.

He had a very good point, but she couldn’t resist arguing. “Five hundred pounds for my dress.” It wasn’t the money that mattered. It was the principle. Yet she reasoned, “I’ll be able to wear it again when we go to London, thus saving you fifty percent.”

His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Accounting doesn’t work that way.”

“I wouldn’t know.” She feigned her most innocent expression, complete with fluttering eyelashes. “I’m not allowed to oversee any of the household accounts, remember? Mr. Putnam was quite clear about that.His Gracepays all the bills.”

His mouth twisted. “Fine. You can oversee the household accounts. Just remember what I said about merchants attempting to overcharge their local duke and duchess.” Then he hesitated before bartering, “Four hundred pounds.”

“Four-fifty,” she countered.

“Agreed. But not one ha’penny more.”

She stifled a smile. “Perhaps one ha’penny or two…thousandmore.”

He chuckled at her teasing. The pleasant sound reverberated into her and drew a full laugh from her lips.

Being with him like this was so much like old times. They used to verbally spar all the time, and heavens, how much she had enjoyed it! She had forgotten how good it felt to simply be with him, even doing nothing more than arguing. That was the secret to a good partnership, she knew. The best marriages weren’t the ones in which no one argued. The best marriages were the ones in which both spouses arguedwell.

“It’s for you, too, you know,” she reminded him. Her voice was suddenly husky, and not because she’d been eating berries.

He crossed his arms and gave her a knowing look, even as he plunged into battle by rising to the bait. “How are wedding dresses and female accoutrements for me, exactly?”

“Because you have to look at me in them.” She shrugged a shoulder as if that were obvious. “Wouldn’t you rather look at me in something pretty?” Before he could answer, she hurried on, “She’s also finishing my trousseau and supplying all the items my wardrobe is currently missing.” She lowered her voice and temptingly added, “I’m certain she’ll include several new night gowns, including a special one for our wedding night…if she doesn’t spend the entire budget on only the wedding dress, that is.” She paused. “Unless you’d prefer I keep wearing that old cotton thing from last night.”