It was a fetching gown that stretched tightly in a cream colored swath over her breasts and expanded to a full skirt with a petticoat. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. “Now I’ll have what I want from you, wife. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. Were such a thing to happen again, I'd never let Mr. ‘You do not understand, Gérard. Irregularly, in a quite inglorious and unromantic way, you know, I am a vicious man. She ignored it until it repeated itself.
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