Before the Dawn (Truly Yours Digital Editions) by Erica Vetsch

miss my friends in Martin City, though your mother is so good about writing to me. I’m sure once word gets out that we’ve gone to one event, there will be invitations to parties and gatherings. We’ve already received one for a Christmas dinner and dance at the Windsor in a few weeks.” The invitation sat on the mantel. She hadn’t told him about it until now, hoping for some indication that he might be adjusting to his new circumstances before asking him if they could go.
    “A trip to the blind school is one thing, a party at the Windsor something else altogether. I’m not going to mingle with Denver society to be stared at and gossiped about.”
    “Even if they did, wouldn’t it be just a nine days’ wonder? When they saw how you haven’t really changed, that you’re still the same handsome, intelligent man you always were, wouldn’t they find something else to talk about?”
    A chuckle escaped him, and for a moment she thought he might relent. “Flattery won’t change my mind, Karen. I’m not opening myself up to their speculation. No parties.”
    She blew out a breath and tried not to be disappointed. “Then I’ll have to make the most of tonight, then. I’m glad the dressmaker had my things finished so I could wear a new gown. A new dress always makes an evening special.”
    “I suspect my bank account will feel the weight of today’s plunder.”
    The coach lamp hanging just outside the door outlined his profile in soft, gold light. A smile played around his lips, as if he didn’t particularly mind the expense.
    “Actually, my trousseau is a wedding gift from your parents. Wasn’t that nice of them?” She took his hand and placed it on her sleeve. “Feel. It’s indigo silk with beaded trim, and the cloak is black velvet.” She picked up the edge of her cloak and brushed it across the backs of his fingers.
    A curious softness came over his expression, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if concentrating. “I told the dressmaker that each dress needed to be of a different fabric. Moiré taffeta, linen, wool, brocade satin. . .”
    “Why such variety?”
    She swallowed, hoping he would understand. “If each dress has a different feel, then you’ll know what I’m wearing without having to ask. I wanted each outfit to have a unique texture for you.” A laugh at herself bubbled up. “I know men don’t think about such things as what their wives wear, but it was something small I could do for you.” She tucked her hand inside his.
    As if he couldn’t help it, his fingers closed around hers, nestling her hand in his like a bird.
    Tears pricked her eyes as she studied his face, waiting, praying for some response.
    He pressed his lips together and his throat lurched. “That was very thoughtful of you.” The low, husky quality of his voice sent shivers up her spine. “Thank you.”
    The coach swung into the semicircular drive in front of the school. Karen couldn’t help but hope that perhaps they’d turned a corner in their journey together.

TEN
    Different fabric for each dress? David marveled at her ingenuity, and her generosity humbled and shamed him. Would he, in her place, have been as thoughtful?
    Her hand in his felt right, and he hadn’t missed her subtle demands on him to behave as a gentleman regarding opening doors and helping with wraps. And he’d surprised himself by accomplishing those tasks without mishap.
    He touched his cheek where he could still feel the brush of her lips and the whisper of her breath against his skin. The delicate scent of her perfume wrapped around him.
    When the coach lurched to a halt, he almost bolted out the door. Remembering his manners, he stopped and held out his hand to help her.
    When she stood beside him on the sidewalk, she tucked her hand into his elbow and gave him a squeeze. “I’m so glad Rex talked you into coming tonight.”
    Guilt pricked him. Karen was young and beautiful, full of life. She deserved to go to parties and