Poetic Justice, a Traditional Regency Romance (Regency Escapades) by Rasley Alicia

Author:Rasley, Alicia [Rasley, Alicia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Midsummer Books
Published: 2011-12-26T04:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

And keep you in the rear of your affection,

Out of the shot and danger of desire.

The chariest maid is prodigal enough

If she unmask her beauty to the moon.

Hamlet, I, iii

Jessica met her friends as planned at Ranelagh, but as soon as she could she pleaded a headache and called for her carriage. She could wait no longer.

When the carriage clattered to a halt in a quiet street near Manchester Square, she told the groom that she wouldn't be long. She didn't need his disapproving look to remind her that she was committing social suicide, or would be, at least, if anyone recognized her entering this residence for gentlemen. So she gathered her taffeta cloak around her, put up her hood even though the heat smothered her, and in a muffled voice asked the doorman to direct her to "Capitaine Dryden's rooms, s'il vous plait."

John's set of rooms were on the first floor, above the monastic-like courtyard. Her knock was answered promptly by a bantam-sized man with a bandanna about his neck and a patch over one eye. A real pirate, Jessica marvelled, down to the hoop in his ear! But when she asked for Sir John, the pirate's scarred face knotted with the same disapproval her groom had shown. "Follow me, please," he said, as glacial as a prince's butler.

Jessica couldn't help glancing about her curiously as they passed through a wide corridor. The walls were covered in dark blue, the paintings illuminated by gold sconces. She thought she saw a Tintoretto landscape over the staircase, and surely that watercolor of a ship in harbor was by the young Turner. The pirate strode onward, but she hung back to peer at the brass plate under a bust of Achilles. Fifth century BC, sculptor unknown, it said, and she gave the marble nose a gentle rub before running to catch up with her guide.

He threw open the door to a library. "Miss Seton to see you," he announced, then as soon as she was in the room, he held out a hand for her cloak, and soon as he had it, withdrew, pulling the door shut firmly behind him.

The library was dimly lit, except for a pool of light over the desk. John had been frowning at some papers, but when he saw her he put down his quill and rose. He was coatless, his cuffs folded back over his forearms. He rolled down his sleeves, but not before she saw the tattoo of a trident on the inside of his wrist. It made her shiver, to glimpse that secret emblem—a free-trader's symbol no doubt—and she found herself weak with longing to study it, to touch it, to kiss it.

She battled back the impulse. Lord, wasn't his mouth enough to draw her? And she began talking before he could protest her appearance. "I couldn't wait till tomorrow to find out about the index. Tell me, do, before I expire. Did it say what we hoped it would say?"

"I don't know," he replied, shrugging his coat on and coming around the desk.

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