Bliss flushed with embarrassment at this and demanded, in a scathing undertone, as Jamie propelled her after the officious salesman, “Do you do this often?”

He grinned. “Do I do what often?” he countered.

“Dress a lady,” Bliss whispered, wanting to stop and stomp her foot.

The grin broadened. “I prefer undressing them, actually.”

Bliss sighed. There was simply no point in carrying on such a ridiculous conversation. If she did, she would only be beating her head against a brick wall.

The salesman led them into a private salon on the uppermost floor—to Bliss’s relief, there was no lift—where a woman in flowing garb greeted them.

“My, my,” she said, dragging her eyes over Bliss’s secondhand clothing. “Some professional attention is definitely called for.”

Bliss longed to turn and storm out, but she knew she’d never get past Jamie, and she wanted to spare herself any unnecessary humiliation. This woman’s awed horror provided quite enough mortification as it was.

The saleswoman smiled obsequiously at Jamie. “What are your preferences, sir?”

Enough was enough. “What do you mean, what are his preferences?” Bliss demanded to know. “He’s not going to be wearing these clothes, I am!”

Jamie swept off his hat and scratched his head, but he knew better than to open his mouth or even grin.

The clerk was not so prudent. She gave a tinkling laugh and trilled, “Well, of course he’s not! What a ridiculous thing to say.”

Bliss was advancing on the woman when Jamie caught hold of her upper arm and dragged her back, so that she collided with his chest. Familiar sensations were stirred by the contact, and she could not permit herself to meet his eyes.

“Can’t I take you anywhere, Duchess?” he asked in a beleaguered tone that made Bliss want to stomp on his instep. “If it isn’t too much to ask, could you mind your manners?”

Since his voice had begun to take on a lilt of the Irish, Bliss didn’t respond. If Jamie wanted to buy her clothes, let him—some of them would come in handy in America, no doubt. The others she would simply leave behind, in the hotel room.

Even though Jamie’s arms had been filled with boxes when he and Bliss had left the store, so much clothing had been purchased that deliveries arrived at the hotel all afternoon.

Bliss could barely hide her excitement, there were so many beautiful things—rich velvets, fine lawns and silks, bloomers, camisoles and petticoats, trimmed in lace. Oh, it was going to be most difficult indeed to leave such treasures behind when she struck out for America.

Jamie, who had been reading while Bliss examined her purchases, stood up and stretched. The pure animal grace of the gesture forced some unpleasant facts back into Bliss’s mind.

“Do you love that woman?” she asked forthrightly, though she couldn’t look directly at Jamie. She was standing behind one of the suite’s matched settees, running her fingers over the soft shimmer of a petticoat.