Jean carried the large box into Lucien's bedroom and placed it on his bed. She stripped off her work clothes and placed them in a neat pile by the box. She carefully removed the dress, pulled it on, and turned to face the full length mirror.
The dress fit like it was made for her. She frowned at her reflection, but there was nothing to criticize. She turned to one side then the other, trying to see all angles. 'It's a pity I will never have an occasion to wear this,' she thought. 'Hmm…should I put my hair up?' She tried holding her hair up in a bun. 'No…I think down…' She pulled the bobby pins out of her hair and ran her fingers through it so the curls loosened. 'Yes, that's it.'
She couldn't resist the urge. She twirled in front of the mirror. She paused to enjoy the feel of the dress swishing against her legs. 'Why not?' she thought and twirled again and again. She gasped when Lucien's arms wrapped around her and she found herself dancing with her fiancé… almost fiancé.
"Lucien! I didn't expect you home tonight."
"Fate must have intervened so I could witness this. Jean, you are a vision!" He gave her a little squeeze as he led her around the room.
"I'm sorry to have invaded your bedroom, but yours is the only mirror…"
"Jean, you're in my bedroom every day."
"Yes, but it's my job to look after you."
"I hope it's more than a job now."
"Oh Lucien, you know what I mean."
"This bedroom is yours the moment you want it, Jean."
She thought it best not to reply, but she couldn't help smiling back at him when he raised an eyebrow and smirked at her.
"If the Ballarat busybodies could see you now, they would know once and for all that I am the one marrying above my station."
She kissed him on the cheek for that. "Lucien, I could never wear this in public!"
"Why not? If it was fashionable…I'd say about 30 years ago? There's no reason you couldn't."
"I didn't think you knew anything about fashion, Lucien. That's right. My aunt passed away recently and left me this dress and the other contents of that box."
"Your aunt? There is still so much I don't know about you, Jean."
"Yes, well, the Ballarat busybodies could fill you in."
Lucien grimaced. "I'd like to give them all a tongue lashing."
Jean ran her hand down the side of his face. "You need to learn to control your own tongue, Lucien Blake."
"Mrs. B." he said. She knew he was adding a silent 'lake' to that, as he'd been doing for weeks. She refused to comment on it, but she hadn't yet been able to suppress the smile that accompanied his use of the nickname.
"Mrs. B." he repeated, his voice much deeper than it was before. "Perhaps you could help me learn to control it."
Through his downcast lashes, she could see the dull flame of desire. He leaned forward in a graceful dip and kissed her.
Jean wasn't the swooning type, but she clung to him as he slowly righted them.
Jean took a moment to catch her breath. "Based on the evidence just provided, I don't believe you need further instruction. Besides, I'm quite out of practice, myself."
"Well then, if you have no objections, we'd best get started on your lessons."
Jean had none.