Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Joanna stared at herself in the looking glass, smoothing her hands over the blue silk gown and grinning like she had found hidden treasure. The bodice hugged her like a second skin, accentuating her slender waist before spilling into a voluminous skirt. She had never looked so frivolous, so feminine, so carefree.

Confidence stirred within her.

She barely recognised the sensual woman smiling back.

The last ten years had taken its toll, a decade marred by loss. Loss of family and fortune. Loss of her dignity and virginity. It's why she fought to make The Burnished Jade a success, why she couldn't afford to worry about her reputation. Such things mattered to the privileged. It did not matter to her.

She twirled before the tall mirror, a chuckle escaping.

What would Mr Chance think?

She never dressed to rouse a man's interest. She had never cared to see desire burning in a man's eyes, yet her stomach performed somersaults as she anticipated his reaction. Anger always flared first, but would his passions betray him?

There was more to admire than her womanly silhouette. The sleeves fell gracefully off her shoulders. The sweeping décolletage exposed the upper swell of her breasts. One firm tug and they would spill out. She trailed her fingers over her bare flesh where she longed to feel Mr Chance's hot mouth.

"Madame," Eloise began a little breathlessly, "you look so beautiful. It will not matter that Mr Chance had an extra helping of dessert. He will still stare at you like he is starving."

Joanna's heart skittered.

Two nights ago, she had caught more than a glimpse of the hungry man. Mr Chance had devoured her mouth with a passion that belied his cool mien.

"Thank you for staying late and styling my hair." Joanna touched the black velvet ribbon around her neck, the choker that added a touch of mystery. "And for trusting me enough to reveal Mr Chance's secret. It's helping me see his true nature, who he really is inside."

A kind, tortured man, though no less dangerous.

"Mr Chance has been different today. Forgetful. Troubled. Baptiste, he thinks it is odd." Eloise looked at her with glowing admiration. "But I know you are feeding a feeling inside him. He will want you tonight more than ever."

"What if attending the party is too much for him?" Would he retreat to his lonely lair if forced to lower his guard?

She had to tread carefully.

He had to instigate their next kiss.

If there was to be one.

"There is no need to worry. Enjoy yourself." Eloise drew Joanna to the stool and encouraged her to sit. "A bold white feather in the hair adds a certain playfulness." She slid the feather into Joanna's hair, then pressed a false mole to her cheek. "The patch will draw his attention to your mouth. A woman must use such ploys to attract a stubborn man, non ?"

It was all too much. Joanna might have objected—Mr Chance disliked artifice, and she wanted to explore their feelings, not win his favour—but if they were to mingle with the demimonde, the more vivacious she looked, the better.

Joanna stood and hugged Eloise. Living alone made one appreciate every kindness. "Wish me luck."

"You do not need luck." Eloise clasped Joanna's hands. "You are everything he wants and more."

Aware she was running a little late, Joanna snatched her mask and cloak and hurried to meet Mr Chance in the hall.

He was pacing, tugging at his collar and the ends of his coat sleeves, each step a muttered complaint. He hated parties. He hated the demimonde. He refused to wear a mask. He was liable to punch someone tonight, and it might be Mr Daventry.

Then he glanced at the stairs and came to a crashing halt.

He faced her, swallowing so hard she feared he was choking. Intense dark eyes moved from her hair to her lips to her bare shoulders.

"We're not going."

She descended the last few stairs. "Of course we're going."

"Then you must wear something else." He scrubbed his face with his hand and groaned. "They'll eat you alive."

"Mrs Daventry only sent one gown." She ran her fingers over the lace neckline, tears threatening to fall. The last thing she needed was an argument. "I had to make a few adjustments. The lady is a little larger in the bust."

"Every man there will seek ways to get you alone."

He was afraid. The truth was there in every tense muscle.

"I've taken care of myself all my adult life. I'm capable of putting a drunken sot in his place." She decided to mention her ruination before he did. "I'll not make the mistake I did ten years ago."

"You'll be out of your depth."

"I'm always out of my depth. It's how I learned to survive." She inhaled deeply, keeping her disappointment at bay. "I have never felt so confident, so feminine. Don't spoil it for me. "

He pushed his hand through his hair and sighed. "God help me. I have never seen anything more beautiful in my life. You take my breath away."

Her heart swelled. "You need to work on your delivery. Compliment a lady first, then let her see your insecurities. Allow me to demonstrate."

She stepped back, raking her gaze over his torso—remembering the muscled physique beneath his fine clothes. In his all-black ensemble, he looked like Lucifer come to survey his minions. As sinful as hell.

"You're a dangerously handsome man, Mr Chance. When I look at you, my body is not my own. It answers your silent call. Every woman will want you tonight, but they'll have to fight me first."

He smiled, and her heart missed a beat.

"You don't need to change clothes," she said, smiling too. "I'm confident I can deflect their unwanted attentions." She stepped closer and patted his chest. "Trust me. If you decide to kiss anyone tonight, it will be me."

He held her gaze. "We agreed not to mention kissing. We said we'd pretend our mouths had never met."

"Yes, but your shoulders are so tense, you look like you need to lose yourself for a few hours. Remember, tonight we're entering a world that exists outside of society. We can do as we please, and it doesn't count."

The hard lines of his mouth softened, but he said nothing.

"Let me be transparent," she said because she had her own list of demands. "I will never give up The Burnished Jade. I'll never be beholden to a man again. We both have responsibilities to other people. I can't think about my future until I see my ladies settled."

"That could take forever," he mocked.

"Yes. Like you, my life is not my own. But we're allowed to relax and enjoy ourselves a little." She pushed a lock of hair off his brow and he didn't catch her wrist to stop her. "We're friends who might kiss occasionally. Where is the harm in that?"

He looked at her like she was a mathematical puzzle. "You make everything sound so simple."

"And you complicate everything. Perhaps we might meet somewhere in the middle." She paused, waiting for him to make a demand or refuse to play games, but he didn't. "You'll need to wear a mask."

"And have those pathetic fools think I'm one of them?"

"We don't want Venus to recognise you. And if you do decide to kiss me again, is it not better to pretend we're strangers?"

"I doubt I'll have time. I'll be batting vermin away like an overworked rat catcher." He strode to his study, returning with a black domino and stuffing it into his coat pocket.

"I can take care of myself." She hoped the lessons in pugilism would help if cornered by a rakehell. Failing that, Mrs Daventry had ensured she was armed. "On Mrs Daventry's request, I have a blade strapped to my thigh. A pretty silver verijero . Though I fear it's asking for trouble. She said to tell you before we leave for Belgravia."

Mr Chance's eyes rolled in their sockets. "Has the woman lost her mind? You're suspected of murdering a man with a dagger. If you're caught with a knife, it shows intent." He beckoned her with a sharp, impatient flick of his fingers. "Give it to me. I'll not have you putting yourself at risk."

Agreeing it was an odd request on Mrs Daventry's part, Joanna turned away but struggled to hold her skirts and unbuckle the belt. Eloise was still tidying the room on the third floor and wouldn't hear her calls.

"You'll have to help me, Mr Chance." She faced him, her gown raised to her knees. "You'll have to hold my dress or remove the dagger."

He looked like she'd asked him to scale the dome of St Paul's blindfolded. He glanced at her silk stockings and groaned. "Where the hell is Eloise?"

"Upstairs." The sound of a carriage rattling to a halt on the street had Joanna checking the viewing window. "Hurry. Mr Daventry is outside."

" Hellfire! Hold your skirts. A little higher. I'll not fiddle with the buckle but just remove the blade." He did so swiftly, barely touching her as he drew the weapon. "Mrs Daventry has a lot to answer for," he grumbled, depositing the knife in the console table and slamming the drawer shut.

Minutes later, they found themselves squashed beside each other on Mr Daventry's leather carriage seat, her skirts spilling over Mr Chance's thighs as the vehicle charged through the dark London streets.

Mrs Daventry looked stunning in an emerald green gown, her red curls piled high, a few tendrils teasing her bare neck. Mr Daventry mirrored Mr Chance and wore all black. It was hard to tell who looked more dangerous.

"I gave the magistrate my word you'd be home no later than one," Daventry said, reminding them he was their chaperone. "A constable may call, so we must abide by the rules. We can discuss recent updates later."

"And if Venus doesn't show?" Mr Chance said.

"We lock the door, hold everyone hostage and question the guests individually. I warned Mrs Flavell I might make an arrest. I said we'd be discreet unless forced to act otherwise."

"You told Mrs Flavell we're looking for Venus?" Joanna doubted the woman could be trusted.

"No. She knows we're looking for someone but doesn't know who. I said we would mingle. Give the impression we've come seeking entertainment."

Mr Chance stiffened beside her. "It will look odd if we're not cavorting with the guests. "

"I shall cavort with my wife. We'll wear masks. As long as it looks like we're seducing someone, people will pay us no mind."

"What about us?" Heat crept up Joanna's neck at the memory of Mr Chance pushing her against the wall, his rampant hands sliding under her skirts. "How are we to make it look convincing?"

She knew how.

He needed to kiss her, and she needed to pant and moan and grasp his collar like she had the other night. He needed to stand between her thighs, the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her belly.

"The power of one touch can be mesmerising." Mr Daventry turned to his wife, tilted her chin with one finger and gazed at her lips. "If you speak in low hushed tones, people assume you're saying lewd things." He released his wife and faced them. "There's no need to do anything more. Perhaps you should use the journey to practise."

"We're not children," Mr Chance snapped.

Mrs Daventry chuckled. "In that gown, it's quite clear Miss Lovelace is every bit a woman."

They spent the rest of the journey to Belgravia in silence. Mr Chance stared out the window, his annoyance palpable in the confined space. Yet every time the carriage bounced through a rut in the road, his arm became a protective barrier to prevent her from slipping off the polished seat.

The carriage stopped outside an imposing four-storey townhouse in Grosvenor Place opposite the majestic Green Park.

Joanna stared at the impressive facade. "Mrs Flavell entertains the demimonde here?"

It was a house fit for a king. The vast portico and towering stone columns exuded an air of opulence and grandeur. It wasn't just a home—it was a statement, where every carved detail whispered of wealth and timeless sophistication .

"Mr Flavell made his fortune in the steel industry," Mr Daventry said with a hint of admiration. "He was a forward-thinking man. Don't be fooled by the widow's friendly demeanour. She's astute and uses these parties to find new investors."

Mr Chance gave a distrustful sneer. "I wouldn't be surprised if she arranged Howard's death. Perhaps she's purchased a gaming hell and means to dispose of the competition. I'd wager Mrs Flavell knows Venus' identity because she hired her."

Mr Daventry shrugged. "At this point, anything is possible."

They alighted, and Joanna donned her mask while Mr Daventry instructed his coachman to park directly opposite and note anything suspicious.

Music and laughter spilled onto the street, mingling with the lively hum of conversation echoing from within the grand mansion.

"You'll not leave my side." Mr Chance placed a possessive hand gently on her back, the merest touch sending tingles dancing down her spine. "Not even for a second."

She didn't argue. Why would she?

No one had ever cared about her to this degree.

Mr Daventry led the way, mounting the steps and tugging the bell.

Mrs Daventry smoothed her hands over her swollen stomach, hidden by a cascade of green silk. "She senses my excitement. Lucius would like a daughter. He says the world needs mischievous redheads to challenge the status quo. Do you see yourself marrying and having children, Joanna? Oh, you don't mind me using your given name?"

"Not at all—to using my given name. I don't know what the future holds for me. I'm merely trying to get through each day and keep myself out of Newgate."

The lady offered a sympathetic smile. "It won't come to that. Lucius will do everything in his power to ensure you walk free."

The loss of Mr Chance's hand on her back brought a cold rush to her skin, the only warmth in her life snatched away. She turned to find him wearing his black silk mask. If he looked sinful before, he looked downright wicked now.

Her pulse soared, a surge of heat flooding her cheeks. His eyes were darker, like hidden caves promising untold treasures. And his lips seemed softer somehow, an intimate focal point she found captivating.

Arousal slid through her body.

She wanted him. Would she want him more when presented with the erotic displays of Temptation Tuesday?

Mrs Flavell's strapping butler took their invitations and outdoor apparel and welcomed them into the vast hall, its marble floors gleaming beneath glittering chandeliers. A group of men lingered at the bottom of the sweeping staircase. A woman dressed as a milkmaid hurried past, tugging the rope belt of a man in a monk's gown.

All heads turned Joanna's way.

She felt their eyes crawling over her like insects on her skin.

"Prepare to be shocked," Mr Chance whispered when she took his arm. "Whatever you do, do not go anywhere alone."

They passed the open door to the opulent dining room. Guests in animal masks occupied all twelve seats around the table. Their hands were tied behind their backs, leaving them to gobble food with their mouths from the body of a naked woman strapped to the walnut surface. They grunted like beasts. None of them were Venus.

Joanna clung to Mr Chance and inhaled to calm her nerves.

A strange smell lingered in the air—a sweet scent mixed with the earthy aroma of tobacco and incense. It irritated her nostrils and teased her senses.

"Hold your breath when we pass the next room," he urged.

Take me home , she wanted to say, but mingling with the debauched brought out the protector in him. And he didn't object when she hugged his firm bicep .

Joanna tried to breathe as smoke wafted from the salon on their right. People relaxed on red damask sofas, puffing on pipes, entranced by the white wisps coiling into the air. Some kissed like depraved citizens of Sodom and Gomorrah. Some swayed in time to the orchestra's music, their rampant hands exploring each other's bodies.

The string quartet in the drawing room played Beethoven to a crowd of eager revellers. Alas, the musicians failed to hold the throng's interest. Men turned their heads, mischief glinting in their eyes, their mouths moist where their tongues skimmed the seams. Women lowered their masks to stare at Mr Chance.

It was like walking through the African savannah, past starving lions lounging openly in the grassland, waiting for one to roar and pounce.

Joanna squeezed Mr Chance's arm. "Unless you want to be a dish on the supper menu, I suggest you refrain from going anywhere alone, too."

"The sooner we leave here, the better."

Excited whispers breezed through the air.

A woman with ebony curls and large breasts stepped forward to block their path, longing to be the first to secure dinner. "Good evening, sir. With such a confident strut, this can't be your first party." Her feline gaze journeyed over Mr Chance's physique, but she didn't remove her mask. "Perhaps we might find a quiet alcove and you can tell me how badly you want to come tonight."

Mr Daventry had warned them to mingle lest they rouse suspicion.

So, it came as no surprise when Mr Chance gave a curious hum. "I'm otherwise engaged. Perhaps we might talk later."

The brazen devil glanced at Joanna. "Is three a crowd?"

"Indeed. When it comes to her, I'm exceptionally greedy."

"Show me how greedy she makes you," the woman insisted, beckoning her friends to come and watch. "Newcomers must put on a show."

Mr Chance didn't curse her to Hades and demand she move. He smiled like he lived for pleasure, not wallowed in pain. "You'll get a glimpse of what she does to me, no more. I'm protective of the things I own."

Joanna's heart nearly thumped out of her chest when he faced her and captured her chin with firm fingers. He was going to kiss her in front of the crowd.

"Shall we show them why I'm your one and only master?" His low, husky voice melted her insides. "You know I like you to beg for my mouth."

It was his way of asking for permission.

A way of telling her to play the damn game.

Good Lord! The Daventrys were nowhere to be seen and were probably outside hunting for Venus. She had to prove herself. She'd told him she was used to feeling out of her depth. That she could cope with what life threw her way.

"Why should I give it to you?" Mr Chance prompted.

Joanna moistened her lips. "I've been such a good girl, sir."

"Yes, you have," he purred while people looked on. "So good. Tell me again. Whose good girl are you?"

"I'm your good girl, sir."

"And you think you deserve a reward?"

Joanna nodded. This was merely a ploy to show they belonged here, but her sex pulsed so quickly she was panting now.

"Say it! Speak up. Tell me what you want."

"I want your mouth, sir." It was not a lie. She might die if he didn't kiss her soon. She wanted everything he had to give. "And your tongue and your hands on my body. Please, sir. I'll do anything you ask."

A man in the crowd chuckled. "I do like hearing her beg."

The faint twitch of Mr Chance's cheek muscle said the thread holding his temper was about to snap. He gave no further warning. His mouth came crashing down on hers like that of a scandalous libertine.

He didn't try to coax a response or tease her with the faint touch of his tongue. It wasn't a kiss but a passionate explosion. Like the greedy man he professed to be, he drove his tongue deep into her mouth, the long, powerful strokes sending shocks of pleasure to her core.

Her nipples hardened, another ache to add to the many. She didn't care that people were watching, that she was moaning into his mouth. She was riding so high on the waves of pleasure, she hoped she never came down.

But he broke contact to an applause from their audience, the cries for an encore drowning out Beethoven's symphony.

Mr Chance didn't acknowledge them.

She was the focus of his intense gaze as his chest rose and fell rapidly as he chased his next breath. Those obsidian pools carried the mystery of the unknown, yet twice, he had invited her to explore their hidden depths.

The ebony-haired coquette gestured to the gold sofas, offering them champagne and inviting them to join her party.

"Perhaps later," Mr Chance said, his voice strained as he reached for Joanna's hand and grasped it firmly. "For the moment, we require a little privacy."

The woman glanced at his trousers, laughed and stepped aside. "Yes, being a greedy man, I suspect you need something warm and moist to eat."

Mr Chance inclined his head and led Joanna away.

"Do you need air?" she said as he pulled her through the open terrace doors.

"No. I need something else entirely." He saw the Daventrys mounting the terrace steps and might have marched straight past them had Mr Daventry not stopped to ask an obvious question.

"Any sign of Venus? I take it she's not in the drawing room. "

"No."

"She's not in the orangery or the Chinese pagoda." Mr Daventry noticed their clasped hands. "We'll wander upstairs and conduct a thorough search. If we're caught in a bedchamber, we won't find ourselves fumbling awkwardly."

"Avoid lingering in the drawing room." Mr Chance spoke like he was late for an appointment. "We'll check the garden again in case she's hiding and meet back on the terrace in half an hour."

He didn't wait for a reply and descended the stone steps, pulling Joanna through the garden towards the tall boxwood maze. "Say now if I've misjudged the situation and you have no desire to continue what we started." Before she could reply, he said, "Do you want to kiss me again? Would you like me to touch you the way I longed to do the other night?"

Her body flamed, hot like the braziers spread around the garden to chase away the late autumn chill. "You know I do. And after that heart-stopping kiss, you've earned the right to call me Joanna."

He drew her to a halt outside the entrance to the maze. "You played the part well. Too damn well. I've a cockstand like you wouldn't believe. But that's not why I've brought you here."

"Oh?"

"You're strung as tight as a bow. While Daventry hunts for Venus, I need to ease your tension."

"Ease my tension?"

"I need to make you come, Joanna. I'll go out of my mind if I don't. Tell me it's what you want too."

She swallowed hard. "You want to touch me in the garden?"

He jerked suddenly and cursed. "Damn. Not the garden then."

"Why not the garden?" It was quiet, secluded, and she was desperate to explore this irresistible attraction. She had never felt so desired in her entire life .

"You know why."

He was referring to Lord Howard's mistake .

"If we're to kiss, I would rather it was in the garden." Mr Chance was not Lord Howard. And this was an affair, a delicious dalliance involving mutual feelings and the utmost respect. "You can help to erase the bad memories."

His arm snaked around her back. "You said we can be anyone we want tonight. That we might indulge ourselves and not worry about it tomorrow."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "We're just two people seeking comfort, nothing more."

"From a life neither of us planned," he agreed.

"Nothing beyond this moment is guaranteed." She released him, held his large hand and drew him into the dark maze. "Let's disappear. Let's pretend we're living a different life. One with no responsibilities, where the rules do not apply."