“Thank you for your distress on my behalf, Your Grace. But the slippers will do. I have experienced far worse over my tenure as an actress.” She thought of the first role she had ever played, remembering how ill-fitting her gown had been, and unlaundered, smelling of the stale sweat of dozens of players before her.
His thumb found a particularly sensitive place. “Do not be a martyr, Mademoiselle. If Saville will not grant you the slippers, I will buy you some myself.”
This time, she could not suppress the sigh of contentment his ministrations caused. “You must not make a habit of buying things for me, Your Grace. I have already told you, I do not want your gifts.”
He placed her foot back on the floor and moved to the other. “Lift.”
She did as he asked, eager, in spite of herself, for the same treatment. The slippersweretight, and her feetdidache. She had spent a great deal of time walking in the park earlier that afternoon, determined to clear her mind with some fresh air in preparation for her role that night. However, the air had been murky with fog, and she had been unable to shake the thoughts of a handsome duke with whom she had struck a most unwise bet.
The same duke who was now removing her other slipper and giving this aching foot, too, a slow and knowing massage. How good it felt to have a man’s hands upon her. Hands that were gentle and comforting rather than harsh and angry and painful.
Johanna realized then that she must not allow him to continue. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, relinquishing her foot and moving swiftly away from him.
To the opposite end of the small chamber. Which was not far, unfortunately. Only a handful of steps. She took a deep, steadying breath, attempting to garner control over her vacillating emotions. To tamp down the part of her that wanted to give in to the promise of pleasure in this man’s arms, in his bed. To indulge in a respite, however brief, from what she must do.
To forfeit five thousand pounds she could ill afford to lose.
To take him as her lover although she had to hold firm to her decision to remain an island in this vast sea of London. Indeed, in this vast sea of life.
“Where are your boots?” he asked, just over her shoulder.
He had followed her. Of course, he had. Like any predator stalking his prey, he sensed her growing weakness.
She turned about. “I can manage the rest myself, Your Grace.”
When she found Jenny, she was going to give the woman a harangue. If she had been within Johanna’s dressing room as she was meant to be, Johanna would not be alone and at the seductive mercy of the Duke of Winchelsea.
“Of course you can manage,” he said, and still there was that calm in his voice. In his expression. “But that does not mean you must deny me. You were managing with aching feet as well, were you not?”
Oh, how awful of him to make sense.
“Yes, I was,” she acknowledged.
“But now they feel better, yes?” he pressed, remaining where he was, not encroaching upon her any further.
He did not need to, and they both knew it.
“They do.” She paused, her wits scrambled, as she attempted to find the means of convincing him—and herself—that he must go away and not come back. “But I have been suffering through tight shoes, sore feet, and all manner of discomforts and pains my entire life. I am accustomed to it.”
“If a man grows accustomed to the rain, that does not mean he does not also long for the sun,” the duke quipped. “I want to take away all your discomforts and pains.”
“You cannot possibly do that,” she said, and of this she had no doubt. “No one can.”
Because no matter how far she traveled or how much she overcame, the sins of her past were never far from her heels.
“Let me try, Rose.” His low voice was an invitation. To sin. To indulgence. To pleasure.
He had called her Rose. And though it was the name she answered to, for some reason, hearing it in his decadent baritone felt wrong.
“Why?” she asked, though she knew she should not. “Do you make a habit of chasing after actresses?”
“No,” he said simply.
“You are familiar with Mr. Saville,” she pointed out, mistrusting him and his motivations.
“He is my friend.”
“You are proficient at removing costumes.”
