Sticks and Stones
It was early afternoon when Heathridge knocked on the sitting room door. “Madam,” he eased it open peering around the corner. “A delivery.”
Jane set the laptop to the side, carefully minimizing the screen she had been studying. “A delivery?”
He pushed the door open wider and three women entered carrying between them many shopping bags. Heathridge followed them into the room. “On the bed might be best,” he decided, and watched whilst they deposited their parcels onto the bed, before withdrawing, “Madam,” he smiled as he closed the door behind them.
Jane frowned as she investigated the bags, finding underwear, shoes, a purse, and a dress. An outfit, she realised, for the event that night. She didn‘t know what to make of it. Had Baron grown tired of her dressing inappropriately and decided to take things into his own hands? But there was something… There was something to the fact that he had taken the time out of his day to pick her clothing. Though, she thought, perhaps he had not done so. Perhaps he had simply called the store and told them to arrange the outfit.
Either way, the dress was beautiful, a deep navy–blue velvet that was almost black, its back was scooped low, and it was gathered at the hip, creating a split below. Very daring, very sexy, she thought, but in an understated and elegant way.
She tried to return to studying, but the dress kept drawing her eyes back to the bed, and the many bags. Finally, she surrendered and showered, before dressing in the underwear provided, and carefully dressing and curling her hair to sit over her shoulder.
There was a jewellery box amongst the bags, its bag standing out amongst the others, and she found a pair of drop earrings inside, the diamonds bright and showy.
At five she put on the dress and shoes and stood before the mirror, looking at herself, her heart racing. It was, she thought, a bit like putting on armour. She might be walking into a function where every person present would have seen that photo of her, but in this dress, this outfit, she would look perfect whilst doing it.
Somehow Baron had known.
touched up her lipstick, touched her pulse points with perfume, and stepped out into the hallway. Baron was in the front hall with Heathridge, his attention on the cuff links of his shirt. He adjusted his waistcoat, and tie, before shrugging into the dinner jacket that Heathridge held ready, muttering under his breath, and
on Jane, and he stilled, drawing Heathridge‘s
down the stairs, feeling his eyes on her like a spotlight. Heathridge stepped back as she
his attention shift and followed his gaze to the top of the other arch of stairs, where Angelique had paused. She wore red satin that could have been painted on, it fitted so closely. She oozed down the staircase, every inch an alpha she-wolf, regal and haughty. “I am ready,” she announced unnecessarily. “Late,” Baron told her irritably. “You are late.” “It takes time to look this good,” she flicked her blonde hair
Baron strode across the hall and out the door, leaving Angelique to follow and Jane to
handed Angelique into the car, and then Jane, before sliding in behind her. He sat beside Jane, and his toe tapped against
and flicked out a compact, preening in it, and adjusting her breasts in
a bit much,” Baron muttered. “Drawing too much
won‘t be looking elsewhere,” she replied, snapping the compact shut. “Trust me darling. Just keep your pathetic
looked up sharply. “We have discussed this Angelique,” he said, his voice full of
you need me,” she snarled back. “And how tolerant I am being of
granted one wish, it would be the power of invisibility. She tried to distract herself from the night ahead by thinking of
door was opened for Baron, and he stepped out, smoothing down his dinner jacket before reaching in to hand out Jane. He put Jane‘s hand on his arm and started up
event and event to car was the only time, Jane thought, that propriety enforced that Jane, as wife, took precedence over Angelique, and even as insistent as
saw their arrival noticed by those handing in their cards to the doorman ahead of them, and their smirks and sniggers. She felt Baron
could not be annoyed and angry with her over something that he caused in taking the
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Qd/yCk6HV++skO8Kgq+EvJjwahqdiASr9P0tFRyqG/iBUy7rfLr+FVAhgY6M4s5JNnuxI9hY3kOfHK1zJfR8KZ7e4aIsccGOvL+FAnHvSViRZqsigKJ5u8d2UCDvTE0oM/hH9OXb3/2yHKJTtRPhkjAFG8vZiPaffw03PmrAX1o71dLcTE+IhHTbJTo2CtPE4sZle9cRt9Np7/03zqY5ruQaWd01acaWE29xRpKKoZgbjEX71owFatitA868O7gbu03N/7KVX//0lTHHM3LU+deaSf/C79cfqpg9EooNZPk5ANw7avmjJPklIYF57fu6ypdt9NlxXNoBV+Qqgke+YaE5KE0JOAW6dJ7Me28Ofw==
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