He could hear the sharp intake of her breath as he moved closer to her, his fingers brushing over the silky skin of her back as he took his time to fasten the tiny buttons that ran down her spine. He could hear her breath quicken whenever they touched, see the slight tremor that ran through her body.
“There,” he murmured upon finishing the last button. “It is done.”
Catherine turned slowly, and Edward felt the air leave his lungs. The gown fit her perfectly—accentuating her curves in a way that made his mouth go dry.
“Hold on,” he said, his voice raspy. “I… have something to add.”
He left her there, his heart racing as he made his way to his study, opened the bottom drawer and took the small box out of it.
He had bought the necklace years ago, intending to give it to Isabella—though the opportunity had never arisen. With the precious stones in his hands, he returned to the library.
Raised voices greeted him as he moved closer to the chamber.
“...dare you?” Samuel Harper’s voice drifted toward him. “It is a scandal! An outrage. That gown belonged to the late Lady Wessex! How dare you presume to wear it?”
As Edward rounded the corner, he could see Catherine’s trembling form in the wake of Samuel’s anger. The man was practically trembling with rage.
Catherine was deathly pale, her hands clutching at the skirts of her gown as she tried to explain. “Mr. Harper, I…”
“This is highly improper,” Samuel continued angrily. “A governess, dressing so far above her station. In the dress of the late lady of this house! The audacity! I shall ensure that you are sent away at once. A thief like you cannot be trusted…”
“That is quite enough, Samuel,” Edward interrupted, his voice cold with authority. Samuel swung round and his arm shook as he pointed at Catherine.
“My Lord,” he let out, his voice high with anger. “This… this girl has the audacity… the gall to wear… this dress…”
Edward moved to stand beside Catherine’s trembling figure, and he placed a comforting hand at the small of her back, even under Samuel’s watchful eye.
“Miss Winslow is wearing this gown at my behest,” he explained. “And while I do appreciate your loyalty, you would do well to remember your place.”
Samuel Harper paled visibly at this, his jaw clenching.
“Right… My Lord,” he let out at last, his voice sullen. “I apologize.”
With a last furious sneer in Catherine’s direction, Samuel turned on his heel—leaving the library and its two occupants, the door closing firmly behind him.
When Samuel finally looked down at Catherine, her eyes were wide with distress. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally speaking.
“My Lord,” she let out at last. “I… I had no idea. This dress… it belonged to your mother? I could never wear it, it is not my place, I…”
“Miss Winslow,” Edward interrupted her, a wry smile appearing on his face. “Stop.”
He looked down at her with a tenderness that he could not hide, and reached out—his hand hovering just above her cheek before he thought better of it and let it fall to his side.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he continued softly. “I wanted you to wear it.”
Catherine’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I do not understand, My Lord,” she said at last. “I… Surely it must hold such sentimental value for you. Why… why on earth would you… let a governess wear it?”
Edward sighed, searching for the right words. “It… does have quite a lot of sentimental value, yes,” he said at last. “But seeing it locked away, never to be worn again… it felt… unjust to my mother’s memory. She loved beautiful things—and she loved seeing them appreciated. I do believe she would have been quite… proud… to see you wear it.”
A soft smile curved Catherine’s lips at this and Edward felt his heart constrict at the sight of it. She was so close to him—it would be so easy to lower his head and let his lips brush against hers.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she said, not quite shattering the spell, though she did manage to bring him back to reality a fair bit. “I am honored to wear it.”
Edward’s heart raced wildly in his chest as he looked down at her. She looked every bit the lady in this dress, and she was beautiful. He ached to reach out and touch her, to draw her into his arms and…
No.
He could not allow himself to indulge in such thoughts, he decided firmly. Catherine Winslow was his sister’s governess. This facade of Lady Catherine Montague was just that—a facade for a night. Nothing more.
