by Mary Wine
He folded his arms across his chest and studied her. The pose was considered common in polite society, but it drew her attention to how muscular he was beneath the fine wool overcoat. He really was an overly large man; she doubted her head would reach his chin, and his jaw was lean, telling her he was very physical. It also drove home just how annoyed he was with her for not slighting him.
“I’m warning—”
“Yes, yes,” she interrupted. “As you have done before. But I will not believe it was necessary for me to reject you to protect myself.”
He chuckled, but the sound had a sinister quality. “Your education is lacking, Miss Aston. I would have thought your mother would have instructed you on the dangers of being alone with an Illuminist.”
“Your being an Illuminist doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
Yet her mother had warned her of exactly that on many occasions. Walk out with an Illuminist, and your reputation will be tarnished…
He cocked his head to the side. “I know what the polished upper crust thinks of me. I’ve seen their sneers often enough.”
There was his expectation again, the firm belief that she would look down her nose at him. She refused to give him the satisfaction—even if he was correct. Trouncing back into the ballroom would please her father enormously.
“Then by all means, return to the party before someone thinks you brought me out here for a moonlit kiss.” She turned her back on him, suddenly as frustrated as he appeared. “I wouldn’t dream of sullying your reputation by having our names linked over breakfast tables tomorrow.”
Disappointment raked its claws across her emotions, killing the excitement that had been twisting her insides. It was bitter, indeed. All her senses felt heightened, her lips more sensitive as though they longed to feel what his kiss was like.
What you want is to flirt with a man who will not act like a gentleman…
“You have no concept of what you’re saying, Miss Aston.”
She turned back around to face him, her temper sizzling. “I see you’re intent on punishing me like some child who needs reprimanding. If that is how you see me, please depart.” It stung—in spite of her determination to banish him to a place in her mind where his opinion might have no importance.
“An incorrect assumption on your part, Miss Aston,” he insisted. “I’ve noticed just how much of a woman you are.”
His leisurely position had given her a false sense of security. To her surprise, Darius closed the gap between them and pulled her against his body in a fluid motion that was lightning-quick.
“My interest in you is rapidly growing beyond my ability to ignore it. This opportunity to kiss you, too tempting to resist. Yet if you are intent on reminding me that you are a woman, there is no reason for me to restrain myself.”
She flattened her hands against his chest, but that didn’t stop him. He angled his head and pressed his mouth against hers before her skirts had finished swishing. She tried to shove him away and pull her head back, but he captured her nape, cradling it in one large hand to keep her in place for his kiss.
The few kisses in her past paled in comparison. Darius pressed his lips over hers but began teasing her lips with his. The kiss didn’t end after a brief press. He continued to slide his mouth across hers, pressing against her lips until they parted and their mouths fit together more completely.
Sensation poured down her body. She felt it pooling in her belly as excitement flared up. She moved in his arms, not necessarily in an effort to escape, but following his lead, moving her lips in unison with his. She heard him pull in a deep breath, and it made her bolder. She rose onto her toes to make sure her lips were fused with his, and his kiss became harder, more demanding.
She liked his embrace. The hardness of his body and the way his hands moved her to suit his desire. He continued to kiss her with a skill that sent delight racing through her. He teased her lips with the tip of his tongue, just a tiny stroke along her lower lip, before he sealed her mouth again with his. She shivered, surprised to feel her passage yearning for something more.
The desire was there inside her, shocking but too real to ignore—twisting every principle she had while, at the same time, urging her to seek out his bare skin. It was instinct, something rooted deep inside her, and it felt like it was ripping at the fabric of her being in an attempt to break free. The scent of his skin further fueled her rising desire.
“We must stop…” she murmured.
“No,” he growled softly.
She reached up and depressed the device covering his ear. It let out a sharp whine. He reached for her hand, giving her the opportunity to escape his embrace.
“Yes,” she insisted, but her breathing was harsh, and she noticed his was too.
“Damn us both, Janette. I didn’t need to know what you tasted like. It will be damned hard to forget.”
Yes…it will…
There was a promise lurking in his eyes that she retreated from. The more she considered it, the farther back she moved. It wasn’t Darius who frightened her; it was her reaction to him. When combined, they created a reaction that threatened to be unstoppable. What surprised her was the realization that she was equally responsible.
“I shouldn’t have…kissed you back.” But she’d enjoyed it so much, it was an effort to maintain a distance from him.
He cursed, the profanity rolling across his lips without hesitation. He was so contrary to what she’d been raised to desire in a man, but her flesh burned for him. It was dark and wicked, but too hot to control.
“You should have sneered at me, Janette; I need you to be exactly what I expect of a high-society lady.”
For just a moment, she let the burn of her desire warm her. She could be his equal, step back into his embrace and do all the things her flesh was urging her to. “Being a lady doesn’t mean I have to be prejudiced, Darius. I’ll judge you on your actions alone.”
One corner of his mouth curled up, making him look like a rogue. “So judge me, sweet lady. I await your decision.”
Tension drew her body tight. She felt poised on the top of a wall, her answer some manner of test from him. There was something inside her that didn’t want to fail, didn’t want to be what he expected. She pushed aside all the lectures from her parents and heard instead the words Mrs. Brimmer had spoken…too young to be prejudiced. Was that all it was? This division between Illuminist and high society?
“Nothing to say, sweet lady? Or should I say, not enough courage to speak your mind?”
It wasn’t the smugness in his tone that needled her, but the bitterness.
“You are bold, and I believe I enjoyed it too much.” Her words came out in a husky whisper she didn’t recognize as her own voice. She’d never sounded so sultry before.
“You did,” he concurred, his voice deep and edged with satisfaction. She witnessed the truth shimmering in his eyes before she turned her back on him and ran. It wasn’t Darius she fled, but the certainty in his dark gaze—the flame of desire that she wanted to move closer to until she surrendered to the heat his kiss unleashed. She felt more alive than she ever had, as though she had just been waiting until this moment for her life to begin. If she didn’t run, she was going to forget why kissing him back was a bad idea.
But he wasn’t a gentleman, and she was a lady. He might ruin her and return to his Solitary Chamber, where she might never see him again. So she proved him correct about one thing: she lacked the courage to stay anywhere near him. She ran right to the front of the house, and her father’s butler noticed her immediately from where he waited with the other servants.
Why had she never noticed how some men were considered better than others? Across the well-manicured lawn stood the personal escorts of everyone inside. They had their collars turned up to keep the wind from biting into their necks while
they passed flasks of whiskey between them.
All the while waiting on their betters.
The idea stuck in her throat, but she climbed into the carriage when it was brought around, because it offered escape.
Coward.
She didn’t dispute it.
***
“I cannot begin to express how disappointed I am.”
Janette stood by the breakfast table as her father eyed her.
“Indeed, I believe I have always been quite clear on my view of Illuminists, and still you accepted one as an escort.”
Heat rose to her cheeks, but it wasn’t from shame. Janette bit her tongue to hold back the tart response she wanted to make.
“Howard, really. Mrs. Brimmer would have been offended if Janette had declined the dance,” her mother reminded him. “You know very well the Brimmers are controversial in their views on Illuminists interacting with society.”
“Controversial is too mild a word to describe that woman’s tendencies to ignore decent behavior. How dare she select my daughter for her atrocious public demonstrations? Well, she shall not change my thinking. Not one bit!”
Her father hit the tabletop. The breakfast dishes clattered, and Janette stared at his closed fist in shock.
“You see what this has pushed me to? Physical outbursts! The calling card of the low-bred who do not have enough intelligence to rise above common brawling.”
Howard Aston stood and threw his napkin down. He pointed at his wife, who had taken to hiding her gaping mouth behind her napkin.
“You made a promise to me, madam, one I will see you keep. I insist upon it. Those Illuminists are endowed with a cheap sort of intelligence that has its uses and place. They are uncivilized. I am a gentleman, and you shall recall that marrying me lifted you above the station you were born to. I will have respect and order in this house. The Illuminists shall not be spoken of or acknowledged by any member of this family.”
Her father stomped from the room. The serving staff did their best to look as though they were not listening. Janette stared at her mother.
“Mother, what did he mean? What station did he lift you from?”
“Oh dear.” Her mother stood, her chair scraping the hardwood floor because the butler hadn’t anticipated her action. The man ran to catch the back of her chair before it fell over, but her mother sat back down.
“I never thought…”
“Mother, please tell me. Is that why I’ve never met any of your family? Father believes them beneath us? Why?”
Her mother looked at her before drawing in a stiff breath that she held a long moment. When she blew it out, she stood again.
“Janette, you shall have to put this morning completely out of your mind.”
“But—”
Her mother held up a single finger. “Yes, wipe it from your thoughts and never speak of it. Your father is correct. It is best you concentrate on ensuring you recall that having your name linked with an Illuminist will only bring distasteful encounters with your father. We shall have no contact with Illuminists. The matter is not open for discussion.”
Janette found herself standing in the breakfast room with the stunned butler. They locked gazes for a moment before they both looked away out of habit. But Janette wasn’t so confident of her place in the world. Not since meeting Darius Lawley. Two days ago she’d accepted that the Illuminists were people of a lower station than herself. But today she discovered herself questioning the teachings of her father.
And her mother? She was hiding something. Janette walked through the house, feeling very much as she had when trespassing at the Solitary Chamber. As if she did not know where she was or what might happen next.
Maybe she should seek the man out again.
***
“Miss Janette, your father requests you in the parlor.”
The downstairs maid offered a quick curtsy before hurrying back to her duties. Her apron was still pristine and her cap perfectly pressed well into the afternoon.
Appearances.
Her father was demanding when it came to the staff maintaining the standards he expected of them. That maid had several aprons all hung neatly in a closet at the end of the upstairs hallway in case she needed to change. Even being in the middle of her workday didn’t allow for her to look rumpled. Wasn’t an apron worn for the purpose of keeping dirt off one’s dress?
It was something Janette wouldn’t have questioned the need or wisdom for before her encounter with Darius. Appearances were maintained for the betterment of everyone in the family, yet now she wondered if being honest wasn’t more important. This realization vexed her. Why wasn’t she questioning the useless actions and prejudices surrounding her? It was astounding to consider how much effort was wasted on things with so little meaning.
So did that mean Darius Lawley was a more noble man than the gentleman her father claimed to be?
“Ah, there you are, Janette.” Her father gestured her into the parlor. “I’ve a friend to introduce you to. This is Dr. Nerval.”
Janette curtsied without thinking or taking the time to look at the doctor. When she raised her attention to the man sitting in the red leather armchair, a chill traveled across her skin. She’d never seen such cold eyes.
The doctor studied her from head to toe. Standing behind him was a plump matron in a stiff, full-length apron. It crisscrossed her chest, and she wore a white handkerchief hat like a nurse, only it lacked the red cross.
“Turn around,” the doctor instructed.
Janette looked at her father to find him nodding. Turning her back on the doctor unnerved her. She felt her heart beating faster while she attempted to keep her motions controlled.
Dr. Nerval clasped a cane with both gloved hands. It was a wooden one with a glass knob topper.
“Dr. Nerval has graciously called upon us to assist us in overcoming last night’s unfortunate incident.”
The doctor was an old man with deep folds around his mouth. All of his hair was white, and his thick sideburns too. He was perfectly groomed, every hair in place. His clothing was just as pristine, but what bothered her was the way the matron stood so still. She looked straight ahead, never turning her head to whoever was speaking. Obviously, the doctor shared her father’s views on people knowing who their betters were.
“Take my cane, please, Miss Janette.”
He grasped it around the wooden neck and extended it toward her. Apprehension tingled down her nape, but there was nothing overly strange in the request. Janette wrapped her hands around the glass knob and felt the current run through her.
Crystal. Deep Earth Crystal.
The rhythmic hum began playing in the back of her senses, and she looked down at the knob topping the cane. The doctor took it back, his grasp surprisingly strong for how aged he appeared.
“You were correct to summon me, Mr. Aston. Your daughter requires purging immediately.”
Janette spun around to look at her father. “I am quite well, Father.”
Dr. Nerval stood and tapped his cane against the floor. “She is not. My dear girl, you have no idea what manner of sinister infection has latched its teeth into you.”
“It was only a single dance. I couldn’t very well refuse Mrs. Brimmer, Father. It would have shamed you.” Tension pulled the muscles along her neck tight. She wasn’t even sure what she was fighting to avoid, only that she wanted nothing more to do with the cold-eyed doctor. His spectacles did nothing to shield her from it.
Her father looked undecided, but the doctor stepped between them.
“You must listen to me, Mr. Aston. This sort of thing can easily grow into something unstoppable without treatment. Considering your wife’s unfortunate history, you cannot afford to hesitate. Send her tomorrow morning for treatment.”
Th
e matron opened the parlor door for the doctor, and he strode out. He turned to look at her before leaving. Janette felt the chill race down her back once more. This time there was a look of satisfaction in his eyes that horrified her.
“Tomorrow morning, the clinic. Do not go soft.”
“I shall not disappoint you, Doctor.”
Janette felt the walls of the parlor closing in. What had once been a favorite place now felt as cold as a prison cell. The butler closed the door behind the doctor, and her father remained facing it, giving her nothing to look at but his back.
“Father, you cannot mean to send me to that clinic. I hear they do the most brutal things there.”
He turned on her, determination etched into his expression.
“Nonsense you no doubt heard over a tea service. Dr. Nerval is a highly esteemed member of the scientific community. His clinic will provide you the treatment necessary to keep you from tumbling into the insanity your mother’s blood has tainted you with.”
“What taint? Has it something to do with why I’ve never heard anything about my maternal grandparents?” She spoke smoothly and slowly, the forbidden topic suddenly very permissible.
“You shall not speak of them, not ever. A fact you know very well. You see? I have always feared this day would come. Why do you think I have strived to remind you so often of the dangers of the Illuminists? Yet here you stand, defying my clear instructions to never ask about your mother’s parents. The doctor is correct. You have been infected by that Illuminist.”
“It was but a single dance,” she countered in a smooth tone, despite the dread twisting her insides.
“It was more.” Her father’s voice cracked, and he pointed a damning finger at her. “I witnessed you returning from the garden myself. Did you really think I did not follow you outside when you had departed on the arm of such a creature? You have carnal knowledge of that…that Illuminist. Your innocence has been tainted. His nefarious actions have planted a seed inside your mind that will sprout into a weed if we do not sterilize it.”
She covered her mouth with her hand. Her father spoke the truth. Darius had unleashed something inside her.