Percy squeezed back and offered encouragement for his own sake. “She’ll understand.”
Danny nodded, her expression radiant and confident. “I know.”
*
Charlotte pounced themoment the library door closed. “Are you pregnant already?”
Danny laughed. “Not as far as I know.”
Pouting, Charlotte dropped a hand to her swollen stomach. “A shame. I was hoping little Ella would have a playmate close to her age.”
Danny smiled. “How do you know it’s a girl?”
“The same way I know you have something hard to say to me or else you would have spoken in front of the rest of our party.”
Fighting nerves, Danny indicated the settee. “Perhaps we should sit.”
“Good gracious, that sounds ominous.” Charlotte arranged herself on the cushions and let out a long sigh. “This is beyond comfortable. Everything at home is either hard enough to break my back or soft enough I can’t roll to my feet without assistance from every maid, footman, and cook in the house.”
Danny could only imagine. Her friend, while as beautiful as always, did resemble a salmon roe. “I’ll have Percy send the settee in our carriage after dinner so you may have someplace to sit until the end of your confinement.”
Charlotte’s grateful expression slid into a narrow-eyed perfunctory sweep of her person. “This must be dire if you’ve sunk to bribery. Out with it, then.”
Danny dragged the breath into her lungs, held it for one last second of inner peace, and said, “I like knives.”
A moment passed.
“And?”
Danny’s mouth made a series of syllable shapes, but no sound came out.
Charlotte didn’t wait long to admit, “I prefer guns myself. Rifles are preferable but pushback isn’t good for the baby. But recently, I found double barrel pistols with a short trigger are just as satisfying.”
Danny blinked. Somehow, in all her acquaintance with her brazen, wild friend, she hadn’t quite expectedthat. She envisioned Charlotte brandishing dueling pistols in each hand, her blonde hair flung behind her, belly round and heavy, her very essence screaming of a fertile and fierce goddess. The most hardened general would waive the white flag against Charlotte’s unconquerable spirit.
Danny sat tall and trusted that very spirit to accept her secret. “I like blades,” she tried again, swallowing. “Smoothed across my... person.”
A second passed. Two. Charlotte tilted her head. “Sexually?”
Danny coughed, then couldn’t stop. Leaning forward, it was all she could do to breathe. She felt Charlotte rub soothing circles on her back until the coughs subsided.
“Forgive me,” Charlotte said. “I forget how people react when I state things so bluntly.” She smiled at what Danny imagined had to be cheeks the color of wild primrose and leaned forward. “Any particular place on yourperson?”
Danny’s shock didn’t leave room for embarrassment. “You’re not offended?”
Charlotte sat back, voice incredulous. “Whatever for? Because you like metal against your skin? I’ve tried it myself before—not a blade, mind you—but chains, shields, a particularly large plaque in Parliament.” The last she said with a touch of a smile. “The texture was not unpleasant. I assume you enjoy blades for the added danger?”
Danny nodded and stared. She’d thought she’d known most everything there was to know about the Duchess of Camine, but the lady was more than fierce and kind—she was shameless.
Danny threw her arms around her friend and squeezed. “I’m so glad. I thought no one would understand, but of course you would. You are wonderful!”
Charlotte laughed as she returned the embrace awkwardly around her belly. “Go on.”
Danny pulled back, her heart light enough to float out of her chest. “I mean it. I’ve hidden my”—she cleared her throat—“preferencesfor so long, knowing if someone found out, I’d be ruined.”
Charlotte snorted. “Don’t get me started on society’s prudishness and the very large stick shoved up its arse.” She froze. “Wait! Did someone scold you? Was it Percy?” Her gaze went dark. “If he so much as flinched at your desire, I’ll use a blade onhim, the pointy end.”
“No.” Danny bit her lip, her heated cheeks having nothing to do with embarrassment this time. “He is more than willing to... accommodate me.”
