She pressed her palm against her mound and felt an instant response. If he’d come upstairs with her, she would’ve taken him again. … She trembled as she set off another climax, one sadly lacking the expertise of Julian’s tongue, cock, and fingers. But he hadn’t been polished today, had he? He’d arrived in a state and one touch of her fingers had ignited his desire. There had been no pretty words or deliberate lovemaking, just an emotion that needed to be satisfied.
Carenza closed her eyes. Should she have behaved like that? Probably not in society’s opinion. Did she care? Not particularly.
Everyone had always expected her to show her common ancestry. Perhaps she would oblige them in this.
Olivia and Maude joined the sisters for dinner and sat in the drawing room afterward, discussing Gerald’s supposed return and Maude’s ambivalence about his coming home.
“He can’t expect you to simply fall into his arms as if nothing has happened,” Olivia pointed out. “You’ve barely seen each other for two years.”
“Men don’t think like that,” Maude said. “As far as Gerald is concerned, nothing has changed.”
“She’s right,” Carenza said. “Men can be very difficult to understand sometimes.”
“Don’t tell me that Julian Laurent has … faults?” Olivia gasped. “But he’s the perfect gentleman.”
Carenza fought the blush she knew was rising on her cheeks as she remembered exactly how ungentlemanly Julian could be.
“No one is perfect,” Allegra said firmly. “But we should all strive to do better.”
Eager to divert the conversation away from her lover, Carenza turned to Olivia.
“How is your naval officer?”
“Gone.” Olivia waved her hand dismissively. “And good riddance. He was remarkably stuffy. I already have someone else in mind.”
“That’s remarkably fast,” Carenza said.
“Actually, it’s one of your castoffs from the advertisement we placed in the newspaper. He wrote you a long and very well-thought-out letter stating all the reasons why he believed your behavior would ultimately reflect badly on you.”
“How kind of him.” Carenza rolled her eyes. “Did you write back?”
“Yes, and we have entered into an interesting correspondence about the rights of women.” Olivia sat back. “I am looking forward to meeting him in person one day.”
“I do hope you won’t pretend to be me,” Carenza said.
“I promise I won’t sully your good name.” Olivia looked unrepentant. “Although you should be aware that there are some rather unpleasant rumors going around about you.”
Carenza frowned. “Not about Julian.”
“No, about you blatantly stealing the Smythe-Harding tiara.”
“I told you that woman would be unable to keep the matter to herself.” Carenza sighed. “And I cannot refute what she says, because I was in the wrong.”
“You don’t need to say anything,” Olivia said. “She is a nobody.”
“You don’t understand,” Carenza retorted. “Because of our parentage, Allegra and I are held to impossibly high standards. If we fail to be less than perfect, we are instantly condemned.”
Olivia raised her eyebrows. “That’s rather melodramatic, dearest.”
“It isn’t,” Allegra said. “You have no idea.”
“Then your friends will do everything in their power to quash her little stories, and it will quickly be forgotten when the next scandal comes along,” Olivia said firmly.
“I forgot to tell you that the new countess pointedly ignored me last time we were in the same company, Carenza,” Allegra said. “She was with that woman who was Julian’s mistress, and they seemed very close.”
Carenza frowned. “You mean she’s made friends with Lady Brenton? That can’t be good. She’ll be seeking out Percival Walcott next.”
“Oh, she already knows him,” Allegra said. “He was in the same party as Lady Brenton. But as no one knows about you and Julian, there aren’t any connections or rumors to exploit, are there?”
