Free The Duchesss Tattoo by Daisy Goodwin Page A

her enormous fortune for the title of Duchess of Wareham earlier in the year. The paper had called her the richest girl in the world and the Duke the luckiest fortune hunter in Britain. But looking at the girl in front of him, Palmer thought that the Duke was lucky in every respect.
    â€œMy friend tells me that you are the best in London,” the Duchess said.
    Mr. Palmer tried and failed to look modest. In the end he nodded, acknowledging the truth of this reputation. “I believe I am one of the more artistic practitioners in the field.”
    The Duchess began to peel off one of her kid gloves. When he saw how white and unmarked the skin of her hand was, Palmer almost gasped.
    â€œI have some pattern books you could look at,” he said. “From Japan. Some lovely designs that are very popular with my lady clients.”
    The American Duchess shook her head. “Actually, that won’t be necessary. I know exactly what I want.” The glove was completely off now, and she held up her slender wrist crossed by delicate blue veins. She pointed to a spot an inch below her palm,
    â€œI want a snake that goes around my wrist like this—” she traced a circle around her wrist with her other kid-gloved finger— “and ends up with its tail in its mouth. I want it to be green, jade green.” She looked up at him, her outstretched hand trembling slightly. “I hope it won’t be too painful.”
    Palmer paused and then said slowly, “I am afraid the wrist is one of the more sensitive areas of the body. If you are worried about the pain, may I suggest a—” he tried to find the appropriate word— “a fleshier place.”
    But the Duchess was not listening. “No, it has to be the wrist. That’s where people have them—covered with a bracelet, of course.” She smiled, and Palmer again thought how lucky the Duke had been, to find a wife so rich and so lovely. And she had the most remarkable skin; it was the first time in his professional career that Palmer had actually encountered skin that really did look like alabaster. He imagined putting a swallowtail butterfly on her white shoulder. But the Duchess was still talking with her American twang. Now that she had got over her initial shyness, she seemed happy to chatter away as if she was enjoying the sound of her own voice. Palmer wondered if this American girl might perhaps be a little lonely.
    â€œI might as well tell you, you look like a man of discretion.” Palmer inclined his head. “My mother-in-law, the Double Duchess, has one.” Palmer nodded; he knew all about the Duchess of Beaufort’s tattoo, having applied it himself.
    â€œShe’s called the Double Duchess because she married two Dukes in a row. Back home, we would call that positively greedy, but then we don’t have any titles.” She rolled her eyes and went on, “I wondered why she always wore this big diamond bracelet. I mean, she makes such a fuss about things being too showy and yet she wears this great big thing all day long, and even I know you don’t wear diamonds before lunch.” Her hand went instinctively to the gems dangling from her ears.
    â€œBut I didn’t dare ask her about it. Englishwomen, I’ve discovered, can be very funny about direct questions. But then one day I saw her washing her hands. She had taken the bracelet off and I saw the snake.”
    â€œIt’s called an Ouroboros,” said Palmer. “It’s an ancient symbol of fertility.”
    â€œOh, really.” The Duchess blushed, and Palmer had the satisfaction of seeing the red flush work its way across her face. She coughed again and then resumed her story,
    â€œThe Double Duchess saw me looking at it, and she said that it was quite the fashion now to have these tattoos done, and that you were the only place to go. To be honest, I was rather surprised she was so forthcoming. I don’t think I