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on her neck, Emmeline brought her hand up and ran it along the delicate coral. “It is lovely,” she murmured.

“Not as lovely as you are,” Oliver said, his eyes growing intense.

Emmeline smiled. “Thank you for remembering my birthday. It means more than you will ever know.”

“That is the job of a dutiful husband.”

Bringing her hand up to her scrunched nose, she remarked, “And it is the job of a good wife to inform her husband that he stinks.”

Oliver chuckled. “I am thinking I may just burn these clothes.”

“That may be for the best.”

“Then it is time I adjourn for a bath,” Oliver said, extending his arm towards her.

Oliver took a moment to adjust his cravat as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had always preferred dressing himself, but when his father had died, he had taken Jarvis on as his valet. He couldn’t stand the thought of dismissing a man who had been so loyal to his father.

“Will there be anything else, milord?” Jarvis asked.

Lowering his hands to his sides, he replied, “No, thank you.”

Jarvis tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I hope you have a good evening.”

Oliver turned towards the table next to his bed and pulled out the drawer to reveal one of his overcoat pistols. He did not believe an overcoat pistol would be required tonight at Lady Shipston’s ball. If he did require the use of a gun, he had his muff pistol tucked into his right boot.

Closing the drawer, Oliver walked across his room and opened the door to the sitting room. He had just stepped into the room when Emmeline opened the door to her bedchamber.

When Emmeline saw him, her eyes seemed to light up. Or had he just imagined that? He wasn’t sure.

“Good evening, Oliver,” she greeted.

“Good evening, Wife.”

She smiled as he hoped she would. “You seem to be in a tolerable mood this evening.”

“Only tolerable?” he teased, taking a step closer to her.

“We shall see if your mood is dampened once we arrive at the ball.”

“I hate balls,” he grumbled.

Emmeline laughed. “I know,” she replied with amusement in her eyes. “You have made that abundantly clear to anyone who will listen.”

Taking only a moment, he perused her puce gown, which had a round neckline and seemed to hug her curves perfectly. He cleared his throat at his wayward thoughts. These were things he should definitely not be noticing about Emmeline.

With a smile, Emmeline said, “This will be the first event that we will attend as a married couple.”

“I have no doubt that you shall charm the ton with your wit and beauty.” Oliver took another step and stopped in front of Emmeline.

Her smile dimmed as she asked, “But what if I don’t?”

“Why would you imagine that wouldn’t be the case?”

“I was an engaged woman that eloped with a rake to Gretna Green,” Emmeline remarked. “I have no doubt that the members of Society are gossiping about me.”

Oliver brought his hand up and placed it on her shoulder. “You have the protection of my name, and I promise that no one will disparage you.”

“But—”

He cut her off. “No buts,” he said. “The ton will rejoice in our union, assuming we can convince them that we are a love match.”

“How do you suppose we accomplish that great feat?” she asked softly.

Leaning closer, he whispered against her cheek, “Just look at me like you look at a cup of chocolate.”

She smiled coyly. “I do love chocolate.”

“I know you do,” he replied, smiling.

His eyes dropped to her lips as he murmured, “Emme, my dear.”

To his surprise, he felt Emmeline stiffen and she abruptly took a step back, causing his hand to drop.

“We should hurry and join your family in the drawing room.” Her voice sounded rushed and had a slight edge to it.

What in the blazes just happened, he wondered. Why had Emmeline fled out of his arms like that?

It took him a moment to recover, then he offered his arm to his wife. “You are right.”

He was pleased when Emmeline placed her hand on his sleeve, and he led her towards the drawing room.

Once they stepped inside, Jane rushed over to Emmeline and embraced her. “You are looking lovely tonight,” she gushed.

Emmeline smiled politely. “As are you.”

Jane smoothed down her white gown with its blue sash. “My mother insisted that I wear white this evening.”

“You look lovely in white,” Harriet said from behind Jane.

Jane shifted to face her mother. “But my complexion looks much better in brighter colors.”

“You are not yet married or a spinster,” Harriet reminded her. “It is only considered proper for you to wear white or pale colors.”

“I’m not going to win this argument, am I?” Jane asked.

Harriet shook her head. “You are not.”

Jane sighed. “Then I suppose we should depart.”

“Excellent idea,” Harriet replied. “Pratt informed us that the coach is waiting out front.”

“Should we wait for Baldwin and Madalene?” Oliver asked.

Harriet shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, they’ve already departed,” she shared.

“Ah, I see,” Oliver replied as he offered his other arm. “May I escort you to the coach?”

His mother accepted his arm and he led them through the entry hall. Once they stepped outside, Emmeline withdrew her arm and accepted the assistance offered by the footman.

After the ladies were situated, Oliver ducked into the coach and sat next to his wife. The smell of rosewater drifted off from her, and he had the strangest desire to lean closer to her, to compliment her. But, luckily, sanity prevailed, and he was able to control his actions.

They rode in silence as they traveled the short distance to Lady Shipston’s three-level townhouse. The coach lurched to a stop and Oliver waited for the ladies to exit first before he departed.

As he stepped out, he was pleased to see that Emmeline had waited for him on the pavement. He extended his arm. “Remember, we need to play the part of besotted lovers,” he said.

“I am aware,” she replied, her back stiff.

He eyed her curiously as they headed into the

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