A Moment of Passion (The Ladies Book of Pleasures)

by Jess Michaels

  “I find it interesting that you refuse to wed, yet you are driven to ensure I do the very same, even if I do not wish to do so,” she said, turning away from him.

  She heard his long exhalation of breath, a put-upon sigh that irritated her as much as her words seemed to annoy him. When she looked at him, he had begun to dress himself.

  “I don’t understand why you are so determined to lower yourself to a mistress,” he said softly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have agreed to school you in sin.”

  She flinched, for his statement made it sound like he had been coerced into bedding her. “If it is such a chore to you, by all means, cease coming here,” she said softly.

  He lifted his gaze to her. “You know that isn’t what I mean,” he said, his tone just as low.

  She held his gaze without saying anything and he finally looked away and finished dressing. When he was presentable enough for his ride home, he moved toward her and caught her arms in each of his hands.

  “I understand you are seeking any means of escape and that Carnthorn’s suggestion that a marriage is a prison weighs on you,” Jason began, his gaze fully on her face and not allowing her escape from it...or from those foolish feelings she didn’t want to feel. “But every mistress’s life is not roses, my dear. There are some who are abused, mistreated, forced to do their lover’s bidding even if they do not like it.”

  Jacinda tried not to be frightened by what Jason described. He was focused on seeing her properly wed and would say anything to see that done, though she didn’t understand why.

  She whispered, “And yet I could leave a lover if he was not to my liking. But a husband is forever.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut as his hands tightened around her arms. Then he released her and stepped away.

  “Jacinda, let me do what I have planned and you will have your pick of husbands. Or lovers, if that is what you choose for yourself. Until then, don’t become distracted from matters at hand.”

  He opened her window and stepped outside. There he hesitated.

  “I want the best for you,” he said softly.

  She stared at him, beautiful in the moonlight, fleetingly hers. “That’s what I want for me, as well, Jason. Good night.”

  He shook his head slightly, but then he left without another word.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “The past dictates the future only when we allow it to do so.”—The Ladies Book of Pleasures

  The parlor was very small, rather drafty and too dim for Jason’s taste. The furniture was comfortable enough, yet Jason couldn’t relax. He pushed to his feet and began to pace the length of the room.

  He knew full well that a chilly parlor wasn’t why he was ill at ease. He smoothed his jacket with both hands and drew a long breath, and still anxiety reigned.

  “You are doing the wrong thing,” he muttered to himself out loud. “That’s why you are troubled.”

  He looked at the door with longing. He could simply leave. It would be easy enough to make an excuse with a servant and forget he’d even come here. The temptation was nearly overwhelming.

  He took a step to do just that, but the door opened before he could make his escape and the thin servant who had greeted him at the door now blocked Jason’s escape. He found himself praying that the man would say his master was not in residence.

  Instead, the servant announced, “Lord Whitehearth.”

  Stepping back, he allowed Jacinda’s father to enter the room. There was a very brief moment between the time Whitehearth entered and spoke, and Jason used it to examine the man. He was a portly sort, with cheeks red enough that Jason wondered how often he got into the liquor midday. But his heft was not a jolly one. No, there was a hardness to the glitter of the baron’s eyes. A cruelty Jason knew well.

  After all, this man had abandoned his daughter to the wolves.

  “Lord Northfield,” Whitehearth said as he extended a hand.

  “Whitehearth,” Jason said, accepting the hand without pleasure. After they shook, the older man motioned to the chair Jason had vacated to seek comfort.

  “Please, sit down. Would you like a drink?”

  “No, it’s a bit early for me yet,” Jason said, watching with some small pleasure as the baron’s face fell with disappointment. He waited until the other man sat before he took his own seat opposite.

  “It’s a pleasure to have you in our parlor after so many years,” Whitehearth said, steepling his fingers. “Although unexpected.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t send word ahead of time that I was stopping by,” Jason said. “But I had a matter of importance to discuss with you and felt it couldn’t wait, so I took a chance that you would be in residence.”

  Whitehearth’s lips peeled back into a rather unpleasant smile. “Ah, do you come here to discuss my daughter?”

  Jason tensed. He should have been happy that the news of his false courtship had already traveled so far, but he doubted the baron felt any joy for his daughter at that news.

  “Indeed,” he said carefully, not wanting to fall into a trap or make anything worse for Jacinda.

  “Remarkable,” Whitehearth chuckled beneath his breath.

  Jason pursed his lips, trying to maintain a façade of control and mild disinterest. “What is that, sir?”

  “My late wife’s aunt passed along the rumor that you were expressing some kind of interest in my daughter,” the other man began with a shake of his head. “And when I heard the whispers from a few other sources, I had to give them some small credence, but I must tell you I am still shocked to have you here at all, certainly shocked to find you here so soon.”

  Jason leaned back in the lumpy chair and folded his arms. “And why is that?”

  “I do not say this to discourage you,” Whitehearth said. “And if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t say it at all, but you have a history with this family and my son, so I feel I can be more honest. I cannot imagine you or anyone else actually taking a true interest in Jacinda. And yet here you are, I assume to ask me for her hand.”

  Jason tensed, both because of the dismissive manner in which Whitehearth spoke of his daughter and his assumptions about Jason’s purpose. Not that he would ask this bastard for her hand if he did wish to wed her. That would be between the lady and himself, the rest of the world be damned.

  Of course he had no interest in that sort of thing.

  He shook his head to clear his mind of these wayward thoughts and forced focus instead.

  “You mistake me, sir,” he said. “I am not here to ask for your daughter’s hand.”

  All the light went out of Whitehearth’s face and for a moment Jason saw all the ugliness and judgment that Jacinda must have faced her entire life. It put him far too close to mind of his own father and the hatred that would light up in him before the beatings commenced.

  “Of course not,” the baron growled as he leapt from his chair and stormed to the sideboard where he poured himself a generous drink. He downed half of it before he said, “I should have known I could not depend on her. She is a failure once again.”

  Jason pushed to his own feet, but he didn’t get a chance to speak before Whitehearth continued. “If you have come here with some thought that I might ease your dismissal of her, look elsewhere, sir. I have no interest in protecting her heart and neither should you. She is where she is because she could not succeed, even when opportunity was laid at her very feet.”

  Jason clenched his teeth and fisted his hands at his sides. What he would very much like to do in this moment was swing hard on Jacinda’s father. But he doubted that would aid him in his task for the day. So he drew a long, calming breath and tried to maintain a façade of friendliness.

  “You misunderstand me,” he said through those same clenched teeth. “I do have an interest in Jacinda and I would not rule out a…” He hesitated before he said the next. “…a future with her.”

  It was a lie. And yet it didn’t feel like one.

  “However, I do no
t believe I am the only one who has recognized her value as of late,” he continued. “There have been other men who have talked to me about her.”

  Whitehearth looked less than convinced. “She who could not attract a bee with honey drenched over her.”

  Jason tried very hard not to surrender to the image of his Jacinda draped in honey that would have to be licked off and instead nodded.

  “Indeed, sir.” He shifted. “But there has been a rumor going around that the lady does not have a dowry set aside for her and I fear that will put off some suitors.”

  “You want the money, eh?” Whitehearth said with a chuckle. “That would explain the interest.”

  “So there is a sum for her hand?” Jason pressed, wishing with all his heart that the answer would be in the affirmative, mostly so that Jacinda would know she had not been entirely abandoned.

  “Why would I waste a farthing on her?” Her father snorted. “I pay enough to board her with her aunt, away from us, where the stench of her fall won’t intrude upon my peace.”

  Jason’s began to tap his toe restlessly, hoping the motion would keep him from lunging at the waste of humanity standing across the room from him.

  “You would spend the farthing to make a pound,” he ground out. “You must know that a girl without a dowry is judged and perhaps discarded even by men who do not need the money. Especially when it is known that her father has a title and could afford a small token. If she married a marquis or a viscount or—”

  “Or an earl,” Whitehearth said, arching a brow in challenge.

  Jason flinched again, for he could not help but picture Jacinda coming up an aisle, first as someone else’s bride and then as his own. Both were very confusing images and set him on his heels.

  “If she were to marry a man of title or someone related to a man of title, it would indeed raise your fortunes,” Jason said.

  Whitehearth seemed to ponder that thought for a moment. “She might, if she could manage to catch a man of means without fouling it up as she did last time. I do not count on her to do so. Still…”

  He trailed off and Jason shook his head. This man would deny his daughter in order to protect his reputation, but would use her in a heartbeat to improve it if he felt he could. It was disgusting.

  “I would encourage you to seriously consider it,” Jason urged.

  Whitehearth folded his arms, his piggish stare moving over him from head to toe. “Why do you bring up other suitors, Northfield? Is it only to push the dowry sum higher? Why wouldn’t you take her rather than allow others a point of interest in having her? Unless I am correct that you need the money.”

  “I care for your daughter, Whitehearth, as unpalatable a notion as that is to you. I want her to be happy in whatever choice she makes,” Jason burst out and the moment the words left his tongue, he realized how true they were. His main concern wasn’t saving her or helping her or anything beyond seeing the light in her eyes as it had been during the pall mall match.

  “You have a very odd look suddenly,” Whitehearth snorted.

  Jason shook his head, shocked that he had allowed his thoughts to become clear on his face.

  “Woolgathering,” he snapped as an explanation. “Now, will you provide you daughter with a dowry or will you not?”

  Whitehearth arched a brow. “No.”

  Jason staggered back a step. He thought he had made some very good arguments for his side and yet Whitehearth looked anything but moved. In fact, he had a smirk on his face that inspired another round of deep desires for violence.

  “You are obviously in love with the girl, so you will take her whether or not I provide you with money to do so,” Whitehearth said with a shrug.

  Jason held up his hands, though he wasn’t certain that a denial of that fact would help his case. He cared about Jacinda, of course, but to love her went too far. Too, too far indeed.

  Whitehearth continued regardless, “And if you do not, I can see you are fool enough to convince some other sap to take her. I will have my pound without spending your farthing.”

  Jason’s mouth dropped open. He wanted to hide his dismay, his shock, but it was impossible in the face of such abject cruelty and lack of care.

  “But sir,” he said, in one final attempt. “What if you overestimate my influence with her or with other men? The lack of dowry could truly damage her, Whitehearth. She longs to escape the home of her aunt and I fear she might become desperate to do so. Someone of ill-intent could take advantage of that and turn her to a life you could not wish upon her.”

  Whitehearth’s lip turned to a sneer. “The life of a whore, you mean?”

  Jason hesitated. “There are many ways a man could take advantage,” he finally said with caution.

  “And with any of them, I will be rid of her.” Whitehearth waved his hand. “Young man, you do not seem to understand, that girl had every opportunity thrown in front of her to make a fine match and she cocked it up and wasted all my time and planning. She nearly destroyed her sister’s chances, and Lisbeth married beneath what she could have because of it. I don’t care what happens to her…unless you can guarantee me a match of very high standing by offering for her hand today.”

  Jason opened his mouth, shocked that the words on his lips were an agreement to the terms. He snapped them shut and stared at the man across from him. He had hated his father, loathed him for his cruelty, but he had never been abandoned. His father had cared for him in his own twisted way and had used his punishments as a violent attempt to mold him into a man.

  Misguided, oh yes. Cruel, most definitely. And Whitehearth left his father in the dust as far as depravity went.

  “You do not deserve the dirt she treads upon,” Jason hissed. “You do not deserve the food she throws away.”

  He turned and left the room without waiting for a response. Once he had made it outside, he mounted his horse in one smooth motion and urged him down the drive of the small house at full speed. He wanted to find Jacinda. Not just to tell her what he had done behind her back, not just to apologize for lying to her.

  But because with all his heart, he wanted to take care of her. And as a man who professed not to be dependable, that was a rare desire indeed.

  “I do wish you would stop staring at me,” Jacinda said as she set her teacup back upon its saucer and settled back into her chair with what she hoped was an air of nonchalance.

  “Then answer the question,” Grace prodded, her bright eyes never leaving Jacinda’s face, even when the heat of a blush stained it pink.

  “Yes,” Isabel chimed in, also entirely too focused. “Tell us exactly what is going on between you and Jason.”

  Jacinda shifted. She and Grace, who was acting as her chaperone for the day, had arrived at Isabel and Seth’s home not ten minutes before and already her friends had launched an interrogation that she recognized full well had nothing to do with Jason’s false courtship or her prospects for a husband.

  “He is my friend,” Jacinda managed to say in a wavering tone. “As he has always been.”

  It wasn’t a lie. She still looked upon Jason as one of her best friends, ranking him as high as either woman facing off with her now. But it wasn’t the truth either, thanks to the feelings she had recognized just the night before. Feelings that had been haunting her ever since.

  She pushed them away so Grace and Isabel wouldn’t see the worst of it.

  Grace threw up her hands in exasperation. “Has he seduced you?”

  Jacinda’s eyes went wide at the bold directness of the question. She should have expected it from Grace, her friend actually often reminded her of The Ladies Book of Pleasure. They were both candid and unflinching in their approach. They both made her think of things in a whole new way.

  It was Isabel who responded. “Grace!” Great God.”

  Grace lifted both eyebrows. “It is exactly what we wish to know, so don’t you take a high-and-mighty tone.”

  Jacinda thought she might escape answering while
her friends bickered, but Isabel leaned closer. “Did he?” she pressed.

  Jacinda turned her face. She had to lie, she could lie... She peeked at her two friends, so expectant in their expressions. She couldn’t lie. Not to them.

  “It wasn’t exactly a seduction,” she said softly. “But part of the bargain we made when he offered to court me.”

  “Part of the bargain he made to court you was to bed you?” Grace asked blankly. “Bastard.”

  “No, no it wasn’t some kind of payment for his help,” Jacinda rushed to say, as Grace’s face was turning quite angry and red. “It was my idea as much as his.”

  Isabel drew back. “What?”

  “Oh, you heard me,” Jacinda said in frustration. “It was my idea for him to come to me at nights. After I received The Ladies Book of Pleasures from...from...well, whoever sent it to me, in jest or not, I began to have thoughts.”

  Grace couldn’t hide a small smile. “Thoughts.”

  “Yes. You both know the story of my fall.” Jacinda blushed, despite the fact that her fall had begun to haunt her less and less. Since Jason. “And you both know that what I briefly experienced that night, before my father caught me with Hodgend, was not exactly...pleasurable. Aside from that, I was raised that any type of desire was sinful, wrong. But I began to question it, question everything.”

  Isabel smiled wistfully. “That book will make a person do that, I can attest. So you read the book and wanted to experience some of what it preached.”

  Jacinda nodded. “Yes. That’s part of it. When Jason offered his plan to help me wed, I was the one who suggested we take things a bit further.”

  Her friends exchanged a look that made Jacinda purse her lips. Did they not realize she could read their unspoken communication? That they were having an entire exchange about her without saying a word?

  Isabel turned back to her, her head tilted in question. “And how is it?”

  Jacinda’s eyes widened. Certainly she had always been far freer in her conversation with Grace and Isabel, but this question was so very personal. Not to mention that it opened doors to a heart she was trying very hard not to break into a thousand pieces with foolish desires she could not ever have fulfilled.