“I thought they might suit you. She too was noted for her restrained elegance.”

Restrained elegance? Was that how he saw her? The compliment warmed her. George didn’t feel either restrained or elegant, but perhaps she could aspire to that—in her dress, at least.

The jewels glowed even in the dim light of the bedchamber. The rubies were large, and the setting was finely wrought gold, but the necklace itself gave the impression of delicacy. It really was lovely. And very expensive.

“I had them cleaned last week. There’s a ring, a bracelet, a brooch, earrings and a tiara, but you won’t need the tiara yet.” The necklace glittered in his long strong fingers as he lifted it out of the box and held it up against the light, and then next to her dress. “Yes, the exact right shade. I thought it might be. Turn around.”

He turned her away from him. She could see their reflection in the long cheval mirror. She looked pale and nervous; he looked dark and severely handsome as he bent his head, frowning over the catch of the necklace. Her husband . . .

She took several deep breaths and tried to will some color into her cheeks.

The necklace felt heavy and cold around her neck, but his fingers were warm as they brushed across her skin. With his hands resting on her shoulders, he met her gaze in the looking glass. “Perfect,” he breathed, then bent and pressed a warm kiss on the sensitive skin of her nape.

A shiver of heat rippled through her and without conscious volition her eyelids fluttered closed and she leaned back into his body.

After a moment he moved back and, feeling a little embarrassed, she remembered to open her eyes and look at the necklace in the mirror. It was a perfect match for the dress.

“Earrings?” He handed her a dainty pair of ruby earrings and she put them in, then turned her head back and forth, examining them in the looking glass. “They’re lovely.” She didn’t often wear earrings—she’d only had her ears pierced when she came to London—but these were pretty.

“Now these.” He clasped the bracelet around her wrist, then slid the ring onto her finger, next to her bright gold wedding ring. The ring was unusual, a square-cut ruby, the setting the same intricate gold design. He stood back to examine the overall effect. “What do you think? Not too old-fashioned?”

The earrings danced as she shook her head. “No, they’re beautiful. Antique, rather than old-fashioned. Thank you, d—” She broke off. She couldn’t keep calling him duke. “What should I call you? Redmond, as your mother does, or would you prefer me to call you Everingham? Or Hart, like your friend Mr. Sinclair does?”

He considered it. “My mother calls me Redmond, but I’ve never liked the name. But I don’t mind what you call me.”