The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares

He leaned in and kissed her. On the cheek. Bloody hell, on the cheek.

But that was now. He could scarcely have heard what she and Richard had told him this past hour and dare to attempt anything more. The ancient Greek was right: timing is in all things the most important factor. He’d had her beneath him, he’d felt her first stirrings of fire; he could awaken her even more, teach her pleasure she could still not possibly imagine. He knew what awaited him, awaited them both, if he was patient, and he was very good at being patient.

He left her where she stood and strode into her bedchamber, returning moments later with James Linden’s wadded-up banyan clutched in one angry fist. “This doesn’t come to Portman Square with you,” he said, holding it aloft as he headed for the stairs.

He didn’t look back, but he hoped she was smiling… .

CHAPTER NINE

“I SUPPOSE IT WILL DO,” Adam Collier said, sighing disappointedly as he made his way around Jessica, taking a full circuit in his red-heeled shoes, quizzing glass stuck to his eye. “But perhaps too crushingly ordinary? I mean, really—lavender? Must we?” He waved the glass at the hovering modiste. “Bows. That’s what’s needed. At the hem, on those capped sleeves. Yes, that’s the very thing. I’m never wrong. See to it, woman.”

Jessica rolled her eyes as she looked into the mirror at her reflection. “Bows, Adam? We’re in mourning, remember? By rights, I shouldn’t be going into society at all. You may escape with that ridiculous black band, but I can hardly pretend Papa and Clarissa aren’t barely in their graves. Even if he did publicly disown me for eloping with James.”

“I had that wrong, didn’t I? You didn’t eat bad fish, you married it.” Adam shrugged eloquently in his tightly fitted swan tailcoat. “I was young, and not told much of anything. Your name simply wasn’t to be mentioned again. Mama explained that, though.”

“Oh? And how did that explanation go, precisely?”

“It pained Papa to think of you, of course.” Adam snatched up one of the hastily constructed bows made up of the same lavender silk and held it to the center of Jessica’s bodice. “No, not there. Yes, just as I first thought, on the sleeves, and then a dozen more, dancing about the hem. And perhaps dusted with something sparkling? I do adore sparkles. A pity we men can’t embellish ourselves with brilliance. Although Papa used to sprinkle glittering dust in with the powder for his wig on special occasions, as I recall it. Vain man, our father, and he would persist in clinging to his periwig even after the fashion so clearly changed. He should have seen himself after the fire. No amount of glitter could have been any help to him then, hmm?”

“Adam!” Jessica pulled him closer, ignoring his near shriek of alarm as she wrinkled his neck cloth in her fist. “Take a moment to think where we are,” she whispered in warning. “Someone could overhear you. Imagine Gideon’s reaction.”

Adam carefully disengaged himself from her grip, then anxiously fluffed at the lacy cravat. “I’d rather not, thank you. I’d rather not think about him at all. Are you quite sure you want to bracket yourself to my brute of a guardian? He won’t let either one of us take two steps in any direction on our own. His dogs drool, and he dresses with no imagination whatsoever. Black and white. Blue and tan. Black and white again. I imagine he will expire of ennui within the year. No sense of style. None. Did I mention his dogs drool? And leave their hair everywhere, to be caught up on my rig-outs? I don’t know how I put up with it, truly I don’t. As it is, my valet must follow me around with a brush…and a sponge.”

“If you’re quite finished, Adam?” Jessica said as the modiste pinned the last bow to her hem. “Thank you, Marie, that’s much better. My brother may have a future in designing women’s gowns.”

Adam brightened at this suggestion. “One can only hope so. Only those with a keen eye for such things are invited to witness a woman’s toilette, you know. And once in the proximity of the bedchamber, a clever fellow can make further inroads.”

“More clever than attempting to inroad Mildred in a cupboard, I would hope.”

Adam gave a wave of his hand, the lace-edged handkerchief perpetually clutched in his paw giving off a whiff of rather cloying scent. “I should ask the woman just who was the instigator of that aborted tryst, were I you. She offered to further my education. I knew what that meant, let me tell you! Demmed inconvenient of you to discover us just as she was being so clever about unbuttoning my breeches. Strong teeth, the woman has. We did, however, reconvene later, and it would appear Mildred is a creature of her word, for it was an education I received. Oh, my, yes.”

“Adam, for the love of God…”

“Yes, yes, for the love of somebody, I’m sure,” he said offhandedly. “For Mildred, however, it was a half crown and my most sincere thanks. I’ll turn my back again now, so that the lavender disappears, which may not please God but will thrill me beyond measure. What else were you so silly as to order without first consulting me?”

“I only ordered a few things,” she told him. “Gideon insisted upon taking care of the rest after I was measured, while I had tea and cakes in a small guest parlor. It’s his money, so that seemed only proper. Besides, I don’t know the current fashions.”

“Does that explain the lavender, or was it his choice?”

“Mine, if you must know,” she admitted, feeling rather put upon.

“And again we give thanks, and good on Gideon,” Adam said. “If I were to have to witness the unveiling of an entire wardrobe of the incredible dullness you consider proper, sister mine, I would wonder what terrible sin I’ve committed to be punished so. But good old Gideon has had the dressing and undressing of literally dozens of women, I would suppose, so he may have developed an eye for what best flatters the female form.”

“You say the most delightful things, Adam,” Jessica told him as Marie looked at her in some compassion before bustling out of the room.

“I do? Oh, that wasn’t a compliment, was it? How gauche of me. My apologies, I’m sure. But think on it, Jessica, the man’s dead old, so he has to have had his share. I’m just eighteen, and I’ve already bedded eight—no, Mildred wasn’t an actual bedding, now that I think on it, but more of a footnote—so, seven different females already this year. A dozen last year, and the year before, ten, I believe. I keep a journal, you see, so I can check if you should want me to total them up for you. All my conquests are captured there in detail, names, dates, number and level of encounters and the form each took. In the event I decide to one day pen my memoirs, you understand. Papa suggested it and reviewed it every year, making suggestions as to how I could improve. But to continue, the year before that—”

Jessica looked to the curtained doorway, relieved to see Marie wasn’t already heading back into the fitting room with another gown. “The year before that you were fifteen!”

He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Yes, I was. For my birthday, Papa took me to the Duck and Grapes and sent me upstairs with two of the barmaids, to make a man of me, he said. Two, Jessica! Conquest is what a man is all about, and he would be sure to make me a man. Each birthday, a new delight was in store for me. The passions of the flesh feed the passions of the mind, so that it’s imperative for a man with aspirations of greatness to dine, as it were, with regularity, et cetera, ad nauseam. It’s our duty to fornicate with as many women as possible. That’s what Papa told me, all but drummed into my head.”

He laughed. Perhaps giggled. “I just wanted the women, you understand, so I humored him. Mama, bless her, encouraged me, as well. I was surrounded by comely housemaids, handpicked by her. Adventuresome sorts, and eager to please. Isn’t it grand to live in such a free and open society?”

Halfway through these astounding revelations, Jessica’s mouth had dropped open, and she stared at her brother’s back, unable to tell him to stop. This was what she’d wanted to hear, although had dreaded the hearing, had still not found a way to broach the subject with him. But now he was volunteering it all, and without shame, even without pride, thank God. But did he have to pick this place, this moment?

“Although I didn’t much care for the lessons.”

“Lessons?” Jessica squeaked, horrified.

“Yes, I had Papa as a tutor, over and above my schooling. Why did I need to read all these treatises on history and politics and such? That Machiavelli chap? Now there was a queer duck, let me tell you! And others. Lets see. There was Marat, Robespierre, Thomas Becket. Caligula—now he was interesting! More, but I forget them. All assassinated, you know, for the good of others who wanted to take their places or rid themselves of an opponent. I forget most of it, how each one died. But I do know how many times Julius Caesar was stabbed by his small swarm of enemies, if you’d care to learn? Twenty-three! The trick to it was that no one could actually say for certain which thrust of which blade did the actual deed. Clever, don’t you think?”

Jessica’s heart was pounding as she tried desperately not to sound shocked and repulsed to her toes. Wait until she told Gideon about this! “I suppose so. We’ll talk more about this later, Adam, if you don’t mind.”

He shrugged, still with his back to her. “Certainly. Time and place, Jessica, time and place. I have no idea why you wanted to talk about it now.”

“Why I— Adam, you’re a noodle, do you know that? An absolute noodle.” And then she said a silent thank you to God that he was.

“Now you sound like Papa. If I had a penny piece for each time he despaired of me as useless…” he complained without much heat. He extracted a snuffbox from his waistcoat and proceeded to take a dip, and then sneezed several times into his handkerchief with some enthusiasm.

Marie bustled back into the room as the last sneeze faded and Jessica bent at the knees so that the modiste could lift the lavender gown up and over her head, leaving her in her new undergarments.

At Gideon’s express orders, each and every piece had been lined with silk, and the corset she wore at the moment, cut low straight across her breasts, was such a beautiful confection of white lace and pink lacing ribbons that secured in front, so that she had control over how tightly they were tugged, that she felt enhanced rather than trapped inside the thing. Beneath it were her wonderful French drawers, and the petticoat tied at her waist assured her she could move freely in sunlight or candlelight without fear her body would be immodestly outlined.

She lifted her hands to cup the undersides of her breasts, thinking she looked rather wonderful in these glorious new garments. It seemed almost a pity to cover them.

“And another thing—Ah, I shouldn’t have turned around, should I?” Adam said. “I suppose I’ll wait somewhere else until you call me back?” He pointed to the curtained doorway leading out into the shop.

“Yes, that seems a good idea,” Jessica told him as she quickly crossed her arms over her bosom, happy to see that at least her brother had enough sense to finally be put to the blush. Honestly, was there anything he wouldn’t say?

Marie indicated she should remove her corset, and, while still thinking about everything Adam had told her, she complied, before Marie helped her out of the slip. She shivered slightly in her near nakedness, hoping Adam didn’t decide to poke his head back into the fitting room to tell her something else she wished she didn’t need to know.

Getting to know her half brother this past week and more as he was, rather than to continue imagining him as the shy child she remembered, had been an education for her. He really was quite adorable. Rather like a puppy, she’d remarked to Gideon, who’d agreed, saying you were sometimes tempted to scratch him behind the ears, but all while keeping aware that in his excitement he may at any moment piddle on the carpet.

Gideon. Jessica tried very hard not to think about him at all. Since that was impossible, she’d done her best to avoid him as he went about doing whatever it is earls do, the two of them meeting most often at the dinner table, as she breakfasted in her rooms and he was rarely in Portman Square in time for luncheon.

Having Adam and Richard at table with them every night was not conducive to anything more than polite conversation. Gideon would then take himself off again, making the rounds of several parties, paving the way, he said, for their appearance as an affianced couple or, better yet, husband and wife, if he could convince the archbishop to issue a Special License before the necessary three weeks to call the banns.

As he was clearly chafing against waiting out the days, he’d teased just yesterday that he was tempted to soon sic Trixie on the man, who wasn’t immune to her charms. Jessica had asked him how he would know that, but then had tactfully withdrawn the question.

He did accompany her to Bond Street on three separate occasions, but then he was so busy autocratically ordering gloves and footwear and bonnets and gowns that she had found herself retreating into a more comfortable place in her mind, where she could pretend she wasn’t being dressed up for a reason that had less to do with a fiancé gifting his betrothed with wedding clothes than it did with tricking her out for show, just as James had done.

She didn’t believe Gideon saw it that way, but she couldn’t quite help herself sometimes, when the past seemed to intrude on the present.

In any event, what with one thing or the other, they had seemed to communicate for the most part by way of notes.

The announcement will appear in all the morning newspapers tomorrow. Richard is explained as a maternal uncle. Too late now for second thoughts, my dear, for either of us. G.

The dowager countess sends her blessing, pointing out her grandson neglected to petition for it, and alluding to the possibility you may have been raised by wild wolves. I don’t believe she has considered how this reflects on her. Or perhaps she has, and this was a warning. When it comes to your grandmother, I may overthink matters. J.