“I should get going,” he said, but he didn’t move.
“I miss you already.”
She stroked a hand across his back, which imbued him with some energy. He stood and straightened his clothes, then he snorted miserably. “I deflowered you, and I was in such a hurry, I didn’t even take off my boots. I can’t deny it now. I’m a cad and a bounder.”
“At our next assignation, I shall strip your garments away so I can inspect your delicious male body.”
“You talk like an experienced courtesan.”
“During birthings, I’ve heard women say things about men that would light your hair on fire.”
“I’ll bet you have.”
“I’ll send you a note when Clara will be away from home, but until I contact you, I wish you wouldn’t stop by. I can’t have her bond with you.”
He scowled ferociously. “Why not? She’s very sweet, and I like her.”
“Her life is as small as mine, and she’d expect us to begin making plans. I won’t raise her hopes.”
“I suppose I can consent to that, but you must promise you’ll summon me very soon. It can’t be too far in the future.”
“Clara will be at school on Monday, and I can tell the maid I don’t need her. How about that?”
“Three days . . .” he murmured, then he scoffed. “I guess I’ll survive—but no longer than that.”
“No longer.”
“Gad, I’m totally ensnared.” He bent down and kissed her, then he asked, “Will you walk me out?”
“I’m too lazy and I’m not dressed.”
“I can’t bear to leave.”
“I’ll see you in three days. The hours will pass rapidly.”
She wondered if she could pack and disappear that fast. If not, she could try to accomplish it the following week or the one after that. It wouldn’t necessarily be a tragedy if she enjoyed another romp with him before she departed.
“You were so upset when you arrived last night,” she said. “Have I soothed your woe?”
“Definitely.”
“Why were you fighting with your sister?”
“I’m too embarrassed to admit it.”
“Then I absolutely demand to be apprised.”
His cheeks flushed with chagrin. “She wants to marry Sandy. He asked for her hand, but I wouldn’t give them my blessing. They’re furious, and I’m devastated.”
“Why wouldn’t you give them your blessing?”
She posed the question without considering, but the answer was obvious. He viewed Margaret as being too top-lofty to shackle herself to Sandy, and Joanna was in the same boat with him. He thought he was so accursedly superior.
“You can tell me about the quarrel some other time,” she blithely said, as if she wasn’t interested in his reply. “I won’t wreck such a beautiful morning by discussing your family’s problems. I really don’t care about them.”
At her saving him from having to clarify his reasoning, he looked relieved.
He offered a mock salute, spun on his heel, and left. She flopped down onto the pillow, listening as he tromped down the stairs, as he stopped to pet Mutt, as he opened and shut the door. She turned an ear toward the window, yearning to hear him ride away, but the woods were silent.
A few minutes later, Mutt strolled in and lay down on the floor by the bed.
“I’m in trouble,” she told him.
He woofed in agreement.
She peered down at him. “What shall I do about it?”
He thumped his tail on the rug, but had no other response.
She flopped down again and began to cry.
While Jacob had still been with her, she’d pretended indifference over their dalliance, but she was more overwhelmed than she could ever explain. How was she to manage the raucous sentiment swirling inside her?
There were stories about how a virgin’s ruination could be a disturbing event, and they were so exhaustingly true. She felt as if her veins had been scraped raw, her emotions pounded to the ground with huge clubs.
She was changed forever. He had changed her forever, and nothing would ever be the same.
“I’m so excited!”
Caroline Grey turned to Libby Carstairs and hugged her. It was a spontaneous gesture that surprised them both.
They weren’t demonstrative women. In light of the manner in which they’d been raised, they’d learned to keep their distance. They tamped down their emotions. They definitely didn’t impulsively hug others.
They were standing in the foyer at Barrett Manor, the home of Libby’s betrothed, Luke Watson. He was an earl and Barrett one of the finest mansions in England.
After several tumultuous weeks—where Libby had wound up in jail in London and Luke had had to bail her out—Libby was about to wed him. Massive wedding preparations were underway, so the house was in a frenzy. It was difficult to take a single step without having to dodge a servant, tradesman, or crate of nuptial supplies that had just been delivered.
“She’ll come, won’t she?” Libby asked.
“She can’t refuse. When he talked to her previously, she was amenable. I refuse to accept she’d have changed her mind so fast.”
“If she has, I’ll have Luke send an army of guards to forcibly bring her to Barrett.”
They were discussing two people: Howard Periwinkle and Joanna James.
Joanna was the third person in their notorious trio. Twenty years earlier, they’d been dubbed the Lost Girls of the Caribbean due to their being the sole survivors of their shipwreck. After the navy had returned them to England, they’d been wrenched apart and given to various relatives.
Libby had been claimed by a friend of her mother who’d pretended to be her uncle. The navy had believed him, but in reality, he’d been a convincing fraud and no kin to her at all. He’d groomed her for a life on the stage, and she’d constantly toured England as the Mystery Girl of the Caribbean.
He’d been sly and cunning, and he’d taught her to be tough and resilient, but to flaunt her attributes too. She was a flamboyant siren, and every man who laid eyes on her fell in love with her. Out of that endless stream of admirers, Luke Watson, Lord Barrett, was the
