“Which is more comfortable for you?” he asked.
“No corset is more comfortable for me,” she taunted.
“That’s out of the question with this dress,” he told her. “So, over or under? Which is it?”
“Under,” she answered perversely, simply because he’d have to touch her bare flesh to lace her in.
He whisked her chemise back over her head, and Gillian smiled at the reflection in the mirror as she watched Colin tackle the corset and its laces with similar speed. He retrieved her chemise and dress and fitted both into place before he began buttoning the long row of buttons on the back of her evening dress.
“Are you certain you’ve never done this before?” she asked.
“Quite certain,” he said, fumbling with the last button. “I’m a man,” he said, by way of explanation. “And we’re generally more interested in the undressing part of the job.” He looked up and met her gaze in their reflection. “But I’m very observant and something of a prodigy when it comes to performing difficult tasks like lacing corsets and buttoning a hundred tiny buttons.”
“You chose this dress,” Gillian reminded him, smoothing the skirts of the blue silk gown. “You could have chosen one that didn’t require a corset or one that fastened in the front or one with fewer buttons.”
“None of them fasten in the front,” Colin informed her.
“What?” Gillian was taken aback. “I have dozens of dresses that fasten in the front.”
“You should have had your lady’s maid in London pack one or two,” Colin suggested. “For the sake of variety.” He smiled down at his wife. “I’m not a patient man by nature, and I can’t guarantee the safety of your buttons much longer.”
His comment surprised her. He claimed he wasn’t by nature a patient man, and yet he had shown her nothing but patience and understanding from the beginning.
He was everything she could ever want in a husband and an exceptional lady’s maid. Gillian smiled at the thought. “If you rip them off, you’ll have to sew them back on.”
Colin looked horrified by the suggestion.
“That is one of the responsibilities of a lady’s maid,” she said.
“Remind me to increase Lavery’s salary when we return to London,” Colin said.
“Why?” Gillian asked. “Because she’s French?”
“Because I can’t promise I’ll be nearly as patient with these damned buttons when I don’t have to sew them back on.” He took a deep breath, then slowly expelled it. “And if all your dresses are like this one, Lavery is going to be sewing on a lot of them.”
Gillian retr
ieved the small leather jewel case from her trunk, then opened it, selected a pair of earrings crowned with light blue topaz stones, and fastened them in her earlobes. When she’d finished, she turned to Colin. “Your turn.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “I don’t wear earrings, my lady.”
She cocked her head and studied his face. “Perhaps you should,” she speculated. “A gold hoop or an emerald stud to match your eyes would give you a rakish, piratical look.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” He offered her his elbow. “But for now, I’ll take you in to dinner.”
“What about my hair?” Gillian asked. “I generally wear it up at dinner.”
“You’re on your honeymoon. Dinner in the country is fairly informal. You look beautiful. I prefer your hair down. And my skills as a lady’s maid, though considerable, do not extend to hairdressing,” Colin told her. “Shall we go?”
“All right” Gillian placed her hand in the crook of Colin’s arm and allowed him to lead her down the stairs to dinner.
“So,” he said when they reached the landing and started down toward the dining room, “the first day of our honeymoon is almost over.” Colin looked over at Gillian, waggled his eyebrows, and leered at her. “What shall we do tomorrow?”
Gillian burst out laughing. “I don’t know,” she answered. “Did you have anything special in mind?”
Colin rolled his eyes and pretended to ponder the situation. “Our honeymoon could turn deadly dull if we continue in the same vein,” he deadpanned. “So I thought we should find some way to amuse ourselves...”
“I agree,” she joined in the teasing. “What do you suggest?”