She ran her finger down her throat as she imagined what it would be like to be the object of such desire. To know that somewhere, a man existed who admired her, who wanted her so desperately he would risk scandal to be intimate with her, to hold her in his arms and make passionate love to her until she expired from the joy of it. She spent several minutes savoring the concept, although the mystery lover in her mind somehow began to look like Lord Burke. Even when she deliberately tried to alter her mental image of a suitor entreating her, picturing him with fair hair and a slender build, his eyes seemed to gleam at her with as much deviltry as Lord Burke’s always did.
Irritably she flipped over onto her stomach, paging through50 Ways to Sinto re-read the key scene. This time she lingered over every word, reading again how Sir Everard brought Constance to her climax. Constance confessed that though his blows stung, they also excited her, amplifying her pleasure almost to the point of senselessness. There was obviously more to lovemaking than Joan had even guessed. Again the rogue thought crossed her mind that a rake as wicked as Tristan Burke would surely know each and every way of making a woman delirious with pleasure...
From the hall downstairs the clock chimed the hour of two in the morning. In the quiet house, the sudden sound gave her a violent start. The only thing worse than getting caught before she read50 Ways to Sinwould be getting caught the morning after, when Polly came in to make the bed. Reluctantly she got out of bed and went to her writing desk, where she secreted the pamphlet between the pages of a book of household management stratagems. Her mother had given her the book, but thankfully didn’t quiz her on the advice within; the book’s main value in Joan’s eyes was as a place for hiding illicit items like50 Ways to Sin.
She settled back into her bed, trying to banish the wicked images from her mind. Overall it had been a successful night. She had punched Lord Burke in the face, obtained the elusive copy of50 Ways to Sin, and finally been kissed by a real rake. And best of all, she hadn’t been caught doing any of it. If there was anything more satisfying than being naughty, it had to be being naughty without consequence.
After a long while, Joan went to sleep with a smile on her face.
Her reprieve ended at breakfast the next day.
“Good morning, dear,” said her mother, looking more like herself this morning, when Joan reached the breakfast room.
“Good morning!” She went to kiss her mother’s cheek. “You appear greatly revived.”
Lady Bennet waved one hand. “Yes, your father had the physician here for an hour. I just overtaxed myself.”
“And you won’t do it again,” put in Papa from the other end of the table.
“I’m fine, George.”
“You won’t do it again,” he repeated, turning a page of his newspaper. “Out of compassion for my nerves, if nothing else.”
It looked very much like his wife wanted to roll her eyes. Joan leapt to her mother’s defense. “She looks very well this morning, Papa. Anyone could become overtired at a ball. It was very hot in that room last night.”
Her father gave her a glance. “Overruled, am I? Then I charge you, miss, with seeing that your mother drinks that entire dose of tonic.” He nodded at a small glass at Lady Bennet’s elbow, which held a dark plum-colored liquid. “I shall take myself off and try to recover from the great anxiety I experienced last night.” He rose and gave a brief bow. “Your servant, ladies.”
“Good-bye, Papa,” said Joan sweetly. “Good luck bidding on horses at Tattersall’s.”
“Minx,” he said with a wink, and left the room.
“Are you truly well, Mother?” Joan turned back to her mother when her father was gone. Lady Bennet did look much improved, but up close Joan could see how pale she was.
“Well enough.” Lady Bennet’s stern look was ruined by the brief fit of coughing that took her. Wordlessly Joan nudged the dose of tonic forward. “Oh, very well,” murmured her mother. She drank it with a grimace. “There; you can report to your father that I drank the horrid concoction. And now you may tell me how you came to dance with Lord Burke last night.”
As an ambush, it was masterfully done. Joan had already begun to smile in agreement with the suggestion of reporting to Papa, and thus was caught completely off guard by the next words. Instead of her poised and dismissive prepared answer, she blurted out something almost guilty. “How did you know about that?”
“A note from Lady Deveres, delivered first thing this morning.”
Joan picked up her spoon and poked at her poached egg. Lady Deveres was known for the quality of her gossip; if she relayed a story, it was almost certainly true, no matter how shocking. Before today, Joan had thought that a good thing, but now she wasn’t so sure. “Oh. Well, I did dance with him, but only because I feared he would cause a scene otherwise.”
Lady Bennet tapped her fingers on the table. “No doubt. But he’s utterly unacceptable, far too wild and unmannered.”
“Like Douglas,” Joan dared to add. “I expect Douglas wagered him some shocking amount of money that he wouldn’t dance with me, and he did it just to spite Douglas.”
“Your brother knows better than to wager with the likes of Burke. He would be way out of his depth,” Lady Bennet said. “And Douglas would never involve your name in wagers.”
Douglas would risk anything for a wager that appealed to him, even though Mother was entirely correct that he would be in over his head with Lord Burke. Douglas was allotted a comfortable bachelor’s allowance by their father, but Lord Burke was reputed to have over twenty thousand pounds a year. He could buy and sell Douglas several times over, and had probably done so more than once. She left off mutilating her egg and poured herself more tea. “I can’t think of any other reason Lord Burke would ask me to dance, and Douglas gave me such a glare whilst dancing, I felt sure I had done him a harm somehow by saying yes. And you have to admit, Douglas has got himself into more than one scrape at Lord Burke’s instigation.”
Her mother’s lips thinned. “I shall speak to him about it.”
“I think you should,” Joan said somberly. “Lord Burke is staying in his house, you know. Who knows what mischief he might encourage Douglas to get up to?”
Her mother frowned. Joan decided she had said enough, and reached for another muffin.
A footman came in with a note on his tray. “Just delivered, my lady,” he said, presenting it to Mother.
Mother read the direction on the front before holding it out. “It’s for you.”
