She’d wanted to seem very sophisticated to him, and she’d convinced herself that she could bind him with licentious conduct, but with how they’d forged ahead into their carnal affair, she’d been forced to accept that it was a horrendous decision.
She hadn’t bound him in the slightest. She’d simply given him what he never should have had without marrying her first. She didn’t have any friends yet, and she was too nervous to venture out after dark, so the nights were particularly long. She’d sit by the window, yearning for him to visit, but not ever knowing when he would.
He’d agreed to assist her with her flight to town, but with no strings attached. He deemed them to be intimate companions, climbing under the blankets when the mood suited him, and not stopping by when the mood didn’t.
To her great dismay, she wasn’t cut out for such a callous liaison, but if she’d walked an ordinary path with him, she’d never have snagged him for her own. Her father would have refused to arrange a betrothal or, more likely, Blake wouldn’t have been interested in one.
He was a confirmed bachelor, a navy sailor who relished his freedom and his career, and he had no desire to be tied down. There was no spot for Janet in his world, so apparently, she’d made her bed—quite literally—and now she had to lie in it.
He kissed her, then slid away and stood. He was wearing his trousers and boots, but for their quick coupling, he’d shed his shirt. She had a fine view of his bare chest. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, his arms muscled from strenuous endeavor. She never grew tired of looking at him without his clothes.
“What time do you suppose it is?” he asked.
She glanced outside. “I have no idea. Four? Five?”
“Whew! I won’t be late. We’re eating at seven. Sybil has us dine early so she can get to my brother’s club before the crowds are too big.”
“She’s so lucky he employs her there.”
“She’s not an employee. She runs the business for him. If he’d started it without her, he wouldn’t have been half so successful.”
Janet was fascinated by Sybil Jones. Caleb Ralston permitted her to manage his club, and the situation was peculiar and electrifying. She wished she knew a man like Caleb Ralston, one who recognized that a female could handle that kind of responsibility. She would love to be offered such a huge post.
As it was, she was hoping to find a job as a writer’s assistant. She constantly penned letters to the women whose books she’d read. She begged for introductions, begged for recommendations. She was a pupil of their teachings, and she’d grabbed hold of the independence they’d extolled.
So far though, it didn’t feel very fun or liberating. She was alone in the city, with just Blake Ralston as an acquaintance. She hadn’t met any of the radical females who’d tantalized her with their philosophies. She hadn’t met anyone really. She was isolated and afraid over what she’d set in motion.
She’d like to write to Caroline, but she didn’t dare contact her cousin. Her father might intercept the letter, and if he discovered how Janet had ruined herself, she couldn’t predict how he might react. She truly feared he might murder her.
She’d burned her bridges at Grey’s Corner, so she couldn’t go home. Everything about her life had changed, and her new circumstance was so disorienting. After a few months had passed, she was certain she’d be less adrift. But just that moment, when Blake was about to sneak out, and she couldn’t guess when he’d stop by again, it was extremely difficult to be perky.
“What are your plans for the evening?” she asked. She posed the question in a teasing way so he wouldn’t think she was needy.
“We’re having a family supper, by which I mean it’s just the three of us: Sybil, me, and my brother. Then I’ll probably loaf at Caleb’s club.”
“Does he let you gamble there?”
“Definitely not, but he supplies his members with delicious wine and food, so I’ll stand in the corner and indulge myself.”
“I’d like to see the place, but I imagine if a woman ever waltzed in the door, the foundations of the building would collapse.”
“No women allowed. Just Sybil.”
“Will women ever be able to join clubs like that?”
“Why would they want to? When men are wagering, they’re disgusting. Why watch them when they’re being idiots?”
He tugged his shirt on. His coat was next, and shortly, he was dressed and prepared to leave.
“Would you toss me my robe?” she asked. She wasn’t comfortable with her nudity. She’d spent too many years buttoned up from chin to toe.
He didn’t mock her for her modesty, and she appreciated it. He threw her the robe, then he strolled out to the sitting room, giving her a minute of privacy to slip it on. She cinched the belt and went out to tell him goodbye.
Her mind was frantically whirring, trying to devise reasons to delay him. It was always thrilling when he arrived and always depressing when he departed.
He was by the window and staring out. He peered over at her and asked, “Have you had any replies to your letters?”
“Not yet, but it’s early. I’m sure someone will want my help.”
“I can picture you at a rally. You’ll be leading the protesters with cheers and jeers as you deride all men everywhere.”
“You men will deserve it.”
She came over and snuggled herself to his side, inhaling his luscious scent. He draped an arm over her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. He was such a tall fellow, and when she was with him, she felt pretty and petite.
“What will you do this evening?” he inquired.
“I’ll write more letters, and I’ll read the advertisements in the newspaper. I may stumble on a position that appears interesting.”
“You should hire
