Choose me, or forfeit all future cream ice.
D.
Jo was smiling at she read those two lines. She dashed off her response.
Why should I choose you?
J.
Her lady’s maid was looking rather harried when she returned with yet another note, this time twenty minutes later.
Because no one else will be able to complete the items on your list as well as I can.
You know it,bijou.
Make the right decision, and I will send you the list.
D.
His words sent a trill straight through her. She felt it in her core. Did she dare give herself over to such a sinful rake? Did she dare trust a man like him?Yes, said her heart.No, said her mind.
Jo took a deep breath and wrote her answer.
I agree. But only on account of future cream ice.
Now, give me my list, you wretch.
J.
Burford returned in five minutes, and Jo was dumbfounded by the rapidity of his response. How in heaven’s name had he responded so quickly? She opened the note, but not before telling Burford that there would be no response. Jo wanted to be alone when she read his answer.
Here you are, my dear, though I do take exception to being called a wretch. Might I suggest something more suiting? Such as: oh handsome one, glorious wicked seducer of innocents, most tempting man in England…I could go on, but I haven’t all day to draft a list. Take your pick. I shall leave all list making in your capable hands.
Await me tomorrow at the same time. We shall commence with Number One.
D.
P.S. Look out your window.
He had her chuckling by the time she finished reading. Hewasa wretch. But also ludicrously charming. She had not expected him to be the sort of man who would make her laugh, or who would feed her cream ice. There was a softness to him, a warm heart beating beneath his debonair exterior.
And she liked it.
Butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. She walked to the window and drew back the dressings. There, in the street below, was a gleaming black carriage. The same one he had used to sweep her away the night before. The door opened, and he poked his handsome, hat-covered head out into the world for a moment.
Their gazes met through the distance, his burning into hers even from so far away. Then, he inclined his head to her and disappeared. His carriage lurched into motion. That quickly, he was gone, leaving in his wake a flurry of emotion. Longing, yearning, excitement, trepidation, fear—everything.
How had he known which chamber was hers, where to park his carriage? She was sure she did not want to find out the answer.
They were taking a great deal of risks. More risks than they had taken last night. If her lady’s maid were to tell her brother that Jo was receiving so many notes, and if Julian but looked out the window to find Mr. Elijah Decker parked there, she would be in a world of trouble.
And yet, she could not summon a modicum of outrage. All she felt was excitement, bold and true. He had come to her, and there was something so very powerful about the realization he wanted her. He wanted to complete her list.
Withher, Lady Jo Danvers. The wallflower. The lady who forever seemed to be left behind or overlooked. The lady who was last.
Turning away from the window, she glanced down at her list, back in her possession at last.
Ways to be Wicked
