Louise Allen - Those Scandalous Ravenhursts

‘Really? May I?’ He was still looking into the window as she glanced up at him. Something about the reflected image of himself standing there with this lovely woman on his arm, her head tilted to look up at him with delight in her eyes, hit him over the solar plexus like a blow from a fist. They looked right together, and the sight gave him an entirely unfamiliar sensation of possessiveness. Jack tried to analyse it, but Eva was still talking.

‘Only I haven’t bought a gown yet, and I ought to buy that first and match the hat.’

‘Really? Is that how it is done?’

‘I think so—when I have new ensembles made they all come together with a selection of hats and shoes and so forth. I’m not used to shopping like this.’ Her nose wrinkled in doubt and Jack grinned. That was an expression far from the grand duchess he was used to.

‘Come on, let’s break the rules.’ He pushed open the door and held it for her as the little bell tinkled, summoning the milliner. ‘And you will need something in case we have to ride.’

‘If we do, that will be an emergency? Yes?’ Eva stopped inside the door and lowered her voice.

‘Yes. We’ll be picking up saddle horses a bit further north as a precaution.’

‘Then I need breeches.’ Jack felt his brows shoot up. ‘I will explain later, but I can ride astride.’ Eva turned to the shopkeeper, who was bobbing a curtsy. ‘There are two hats in your window I would like to try, if you please.’

Ride astride? How in Hades had she learned that? It was certainly useful—if they had to take to horseback then it would be because they had to abandon the carriage and move both fast and unobserved. His mind strayed to wondering how one bought riding breeches for a woman off the peg in Grenoble. Eva was tall and slender, but definitely rounded in a way that no man or youth was.

‘Jacques.’ He pulled himself away from a frankly improper contemplation of the curves hinted at by the fall of her gown and found himself confronted by a nightmare he had heard other men gibbering about. He was expected to make a judgement between two articles of clothing worn by a woman. ‘Which do you think?’

Eva was wearing the chip straw, the bow tied at an angle under her jaw. The deep green of the satin ribbon did things to the colour of her eyes he could not explain, but which made him want to cover a bed with velvet in exactly that shade and lay her upon it. Naked.

‘Delightful. It definitely suits you.’ He remembered to talk in French just in time.

‘Or this?’ She replaced it with the amber straw. The brim framed her face, the colour brought out golden tones in her hair. The daydream changed to a bed strewn with amber silks. ‘Delightful. Have them both.’

‘Yes, but then I saw this.’ She was biting her lower lip in thought. Jack closed his eyes for a moment’s relief and opened them to see a pert confection he had no name for. The only word for it was sassy and it made his dignified grand duchess look like a seventeen-year-old, ripe for a spree.

‘Wonderful. Buy them all.’

‘Jacques, you aren’t taking this seriously. You must prefer one of them, or don’t you really like any?’ It was exactly what friends had moaned about. Women asked you for an opinion and then were upset whatever you said.

‘I think they all look marvellous on you,’ he said, trying to inject sincerity into his voice. ‘But I think that whatever the hat, you would look good, so it is very difficult to express a preference.’

‘Ah, monsieur.’ The milliner obviously thought this was a suitable answer. Eva cast him a roguish glance that made something deep inside respond. He knew his pulse rate was up and drew in a deep breath to steady it.

‘Thank you. I think I will have the chip straw and…that one.’ She pointed to the sassy little hat.

‘Not all three?’ Jack queried as the gratified shopkeeper hastened to pack the hats in their boxes.

‘We have only just started shopping.’ Jack found himself grinning back in answer to Eva’s smile.

It was madness. Here he was, Jack Ryder, King’s Messenger, a man who chose danger as a way of life, looking forward to hours spent exploring dress shops, haberdashers and shoemakers. If Henry found out, he would never live it down.

Two hours later, laden with parcels, Jack called a halt and dragged Eva into a confectioner’s. ‘Enough! Can there be a single shop of interest to ladies in this town we have not explored?’

‘Not one.’ Eva smiled happily at him over the rim of a cup of chocolate. ‘Tell me what you bought for my riding clothes.’

‘Breeches, shirt, waistcoat, coat and boots. You can use one of my neckcloths.’

‘But how did you know my size?’ She blushed adorably, he mused, wondering how else he could provoke that reaction without overstepping the bounds of friendship he had set himself.

‘I can measure your height against myself, likewise your feet.’ He let his booted foot nudge against hers under the shelter of the tablecloth and lowered his voice. ‘As for the rest, well, I have held you in my arms.’

‘Oh.’ The rose-pink colour reached her temples this time. Jack tried not to imagine how soft the skin would be there, how it would feel to nuzzle along to the delicate curve of her ear and explore the crisp moulding before nibbling his way down…‘You have a good memory.’

Confessing that he had been recalling those few minutes in vivid detail ever since they had occurred was out of the question. ‘I doubt the breeches will be a good fit.’ Eva looked a question. ‘Any youth quite your, er…shape would be an unusual young man. They are certain to be too large in the waist.’

‘Never mind. Better than too tight.’ Eva put one elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm while she nibbled at a macaroon biscuit. ‘Thank you for today.’

‘What, the clothes and fripperies? His Majesty’s Government coffers are paying for those.’ The range of items she had enjoyed browsing through had been a revelation to a man used to buying jewellery as a present for his mistress of the moment, or handing over cash for them to make their own purchases.

‘No. For the holiday. For letting me take my time and relax and for pretending you enjoyed it, too.’

‘I did enjoy it.’ She finished her biscuit and cupped her chin in both hands, regarding him sceptically. ‘It was a new experience for me. Shopping.’

‘Don’t men shop? Surely you do?’

‘Yes, but we don’t flit so much.’ He ignored her moue of indignation at his choice of verb. ‘I go to my tailor, my shirtmaker, my bootmaker, a perfumier for toiletries and so forth. But I know what I want before I set out, they are all within a very small compass of London streets, and I do it only when I need to.’

‘Then what did you enjoy about today?’

Jack poured them both more hot chocolate and tried to explain. ‘I enjoyed your company, I enjoyed your good taste. It was an interesting glimpse into a feminine world—and I enjoyed seeing you enjoy yourself.’ And he had enjoyed just watching her, fantasising about making love to her, setting himself up for a night of disturbed sleep and physical discomfort thinking about her.

‘Thank you.’ The sceptical look was gone. ‘I am so glad we are friends.’ She put out her hand impulsively and lay it on his for a fleeting moment, then jerked it back, obviously embarrassed at doing such a thing in public. ‘Jack, are we in danger here?’

‘Here and now? I doubt it, unless whoever is chasing us has decided they need light refreshment. I somehow do not think this is what your brother-in-law would be expecting us to do just now. But if you mean in Grenoble, yes, certainly.’ There was no point in lying to her; besides anything else, neither of them could afford to be complacent.