Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

T he dark walk was known for improprieties. Prudence would never have ventured into it alone, but on Duke's arm, anticipation had her leaning toward the unknown. The hard muscle felt decadent against the side of her breast, and she fought the urge to press even closer. What was ladylike and appropriate seemed meaningless while wearing a mask under the night sky.

"Let's explore, shall we?" she said more breathlessly than she would have liked. She wanted to be bold and daring. Or at least have him think her bold and daring.

They turned left.

"I know widows are afforded more freedom, and you seem more curious than most ladies. Have you never ventured to the Gardens before?" He kept their pace slow.

She daubed her suddenly dry lips. She did not enjoy lying, but the hole was too deep now to climb out with the truth. No unmarried debutante would think of setting foot in Vauxhall Gardens unaccompanied. Especially during one of their notorious masquerades. Such a stupid and unfortunate creature would be ruined.

"I have been curious about the Gardens." That much was true. Perhaps she could skate as close to the truth as possible. "I am in London with an aunt who holds a more traditional view of what is appropriate for me. I already push the boundaries with my scientific interests."

"Why not set up your own household in order to pursue your interests without judgment?"

Prudence shook her head and gave a derisive snort. "How is a woman of limited means supposed to support herself?"

He stuttered to a stop and turned to face her. "That was badly done. Your husband did not leave you the means to live independently?"

"Only the luckiest women are not dependent on a husband or relatives to survive. This is what I hope my perfumery can provide me. The freedom to make my own choices before they are thrust upon me."

He cocked his head, but it was too dim to read his expression, especially with the mask. "What do you mean?"

"If I cannot support us through commerce, I must marry and marry well. Or remarry, that is." She kept her tone light, but did not try to fake a smile. "I must be able to support myself and my two aunts," she added, glad to be able to be honest in this at least.

"I'm very sorry to hear this."

"Why is that?" She regretted the question as soon as it was out of her mouth.

Her pretty face and trim figure had attracted a fair number of gentlemen to her dance card, but her forthrightness had not produced any callers. Not many men appreciated a wife who spoke her mind.

"I have a younger sister. My parents tried to force her into a marriage and role she did not want."

Prudence knew this, of course, but must do something that did not come naturally—play dumb. "You say they tried. Were they unsuccessful?"

"I arrived in London to find instead of marrying the son of a duke, she eloped with a gambler." His smile was rueful.

The resulting scandal had enraged Prudence's aunt. She was afraid it would taint Prudence's reputation by mere geographical association. "You don't seem worried or unhappy at the result."

"I trust Maddie had her reasons. From what I can gather, her marriage is a love match, if an unconventional one." If the rumors were to be believed, her new husband had taken her to France in order to further her knowledge of native plants. If true, he was a rare man indeed.

"You are an unusual man," she said thoughtfully.

"I suppose compared to most of the English fops, I am."

"And what of you? Are you on the hunt for a lady of good breeding to marry?" She cast him a look under her lashes. It was too dark to note his expression, but she felt his exaggerated shudder.

"Good Lord, no!" In a more modulated voice, he added. "Would my parents be thrilled if I returned with an English lady on my arm? Undoubtedly. My mother, for one, would take pride in the connection. But there are too many adventures to have."

"You can't find a lady to share in your adventures?"

"I have yet to meet a lady who doesn't crave hearth and home."

Considering she was strolling down the dark walk with him, she wanted to elbow some sense into him. Perhaps he wasn't that unusual after all. "Adventurous spirits abound among the fairer sex. Unfortunately, society and expectations raise us to be bartered and bred. Believe me, I would love nothing less than to travel and see the world I have only read about."

Prudence supposed she was lucky to have escaped America for England. At least she had experienced an ocean crossing and a different country. Some of the girls she grew up with would never leave New York. Although she was in danger of trading one prison for another.

"What was your husband like? Did he appreciate you?" Duke asked.

Oh dear. She did not want to spin another tale. The lies were mounting at a fast and furious pace. "I don't wish to speak of him."

"Ah. I apologize. Your desire to avoid marriage through trade speaks volumes."

She let out a pent-up breath. His assumption meant no further questioning on the matter. "Marriage is a terrible bargain for women. A wife becomes the property of her husband. I do not wish to be owned."

"As a widow, I suppose you can pursue less rigid connections outside of marriage." There was a leading question in his voice.

Did he mean carnal connections? A blush heated her cheeks, and she was thankful for the darkness and her mask. "I suppose I could."

He stopped in the middle of the path. She turned to face him.

"You could, but you haven't?"

She darted her tongue across her bottom lip. This conversation had veered into unknown territory for her. "My aunt keeps a watchful eye on me, and the opportunity for a tryst has never presented itself."

"Do you wish to experience a tryst?"

"I'll admit to a certain… curiosity." That was definitely true. Her aunts had certainly not been forthcoming about what relations between a man and women entailed.

"You are in luck. I find myself available for a dalliance." The white flash of his teeth signaled his smile.

"How would I know if I'd enjoy such a dalliance?" She wasn't flirting or teasing, she genuinely wanted to know. If she was to take such a risk with him, she wanted it to be worthwhile.

He clutched his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me. Was our kiss in the apothecary not evidence enough?"

"It was just a kiss." Just because she had dreamed of the kiss and thought about it every hour since did not signify she would enjoy what came next. Did it?

"Ah, you wish for further evidence before making your decision. Very wise. Very scientific, in fact." He was teasing her, but in a way that didn't raise her hackles. In fact, she was rather enjoying their repartee.

Never would he speak to her so bluntly if he knew who she was. What she was. A virgin. And he certainly wouldn't touch her if he knew. Therefore, he must never find out. Her identity and status would remain a secret.

The opportunity to be with Duke had presented itself. If she passed it by, it would never present itself again. If she specialized in mathematics, she could estimate the odds. In this instance, she must be a gambler and up the ante.

He led her between two rows of trees delineating one of the long walks. The branches met overhead. Although lanterns had been lit, they were far enough apart to plunge sections into darkness. Instead of being frightened, she welcomed the solitude.

They stood in a loose embrace. Her hand crept inside his waistcoat. Only the thin cotton of his shirt separated her fingers from his skin. His heart thumped, and his heat somehow sent shivers up her arms. His face was only a few inches from hers. Dare she kiss him?

Any other time and place, the answer would be no. But if she could not find the courage at a masquerade in a darkened garden, then she never would. She drew the soft cotton of his shirt into her fist and pulled him closer.

She felt the sharp intake of his breath a moment before their lips met. Although she initiated the kiss, he took control before she could process the feel of his mouth on hers. His arm circled her waist and brought her body flush against his, drawing her to her toes.

It was not uncommon for her to be able to look her dance partners directly in the eyes, but James topped her by at least four inches and was broad in the shoulders and chest. He dominated her, which was thrilling in a way she couldn't explain in the heat of the moment.

The heat . It was indescribable. She skimmed her hand from his chest to wrap around his neck, inside his collar. His hair tickled her hand in an invitation. She speared her other hand through the hair at his nape and held him close. Her breasts were pressed against his hard chest, and her heart knocked against her ribs as if trying to get to his. His hands roved over her back. The pleasure at his touch invaded every nerve.

It was as if they were two solutions combining in the presence of a catalyst. Apart, they were inert, but together, they were exothermic. She was surprised they weren't steaming or the nearby shrubbery wasn't on fire.

Duke sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and ran his tongue along the length at the same time his hand curled over her bottom and squeezed. The combination of sensations drew a gasp from her. Her lips parted, and he groaned. His tongue slipped inside her mouth.

This time there would be no murder to distract them—she hoped. Tightening her hold around his neck, she slanted her mouth to spar with his tongue. She could kiss him all night long. It was a heady experience.

His hand skated over her buttock, but did not stop. She was disappointed not to have the pleasure of a squeeze. Instead, her dress fluttered around her legs and cool air wafted underneath. Warm, callused fingers skimmed along her bare leg making her knees go watery.

He had put his hand under her skirts. Letting a man "under your skirts" was, according to Aunt Honoria's frequent lectures, the worst sort of sin. It resulted in ruination and babies and condemnation to hell.

His hand trekked upward to cup her bare buttock. At her maid's insistence, she had forgone drawers as was the custom for ladies in England. She had been skeptical, but now she mentally sent out her thanks.

Driven by some primal instinct, she lifted her right leg and curled it around his calf. The smooth leather of his boot was cold against her silken stocking. He hummed his approval, and embers exploded in her chest.

"Yes, my sweet Jynx. You want more, don't you?" He rumbled against her mouth.

Yes, she did want more. Hopefully, he wouldn't ask her specifics, because she wasn't sure what more meant. Just that she wanted it.

His hand moved to the crease of her bottom and then in between. At the first brush of his fingers against her most sensitive flesh, she moaned and her head fell back, her eyes closing. Her knees wobbled, and she might have toppled over if his arm wasn't around her waist.

He nuzzled his lips against her ear. "You're slick with need, my love. It would be so easy to slide my cock inside you."

Her insides clenched at his declaration. It wasn't trepidation but emptiness that assailed her. Yes, she needed him inside her. She had seen animals rutting. It had been more horrifying than titillating. The male climbing on top and asserting his dominance over the poor female, who often cried out in shock.

Whatever she and Duke were doing held a note of gentleness, from the movement of his lips to his hands. Having someone touch her so intimately was indeed a shocking experience but so far a pleasurable one. She made sure to stifle her surprise. A widow would not express dismay over having a man's hand—or other body parts—between her legs.

His fingers danced lightly between her legs, settling on a nub at the apex of her sex. While he rubbed, one of his fingers pushed into her channel.

A breathless oh escaped her on a sharp exhale. It was too much, yet not enough. She clutched at his shoulders and nuzzled her face into his neck, breathing deeply. He smelled like… home. Clean pine and spice.

Moving deeper into the shadows, he turned them so the folds of her dress hid much of what he was doing. Anyone walking by would assume they were in a simple embrace.

The alchemy he was performing was anything but simple. While he manipulated her sex, his finger pressed deeper. Her hips moved instinctively, chasing something she couldn't name.

"You are earning your nickname, Jynx. What spell have you cast on me?"

She was beyond being able to answer him coherently. She didn't care that they were standing in a public garden. She ground herself on his hand.

"What do you need? Tell me."

"I need you." She choked the words out against the skin of his jaw. His night beard tickled her lips.

"I would like to give you everything, but that must wait until we have more privacy. For now, I can give you this." He slipped another finger inside her and pumped.

Her muscles went tight around his fingers, and a wave of pleasure descended upon her like a veil. The beat of her heart muffled her hearing, and in that moment, she didn't care if anyone saw them. Her hips bucked against his hand, milking every ounce of the ebbing feeling.

His fingers still worked her flesh, but with a lighter touch. Her skin was sensitized, and she felt as if she had quaffed a glass of the finest liquor, her head buzzing and a little cottony.

He slipped his hand free, and her foot slid to the ground. Thankfully, he did not release his hold on her or she might have crumpled to lie at his feet.

Laughter drifted toward them. Two couples were strolling toward them. Even though she was masked and in the shadows, she kept her face buried in his neck. Her composure was shattered.

She was supposed to be experienced and had stated her openness to a dalliance. He was a man of the world and had given her a taste of what that meant. Did she want to pursue a dalliance?

The answer reverberated through her so strongly she said it aloud. "Yes."

He leaned back and tilted her face to his. "Yes, what?"

"I want to engage in a tryst with you."

His smile was slow and full of secrets. "Accompany me back to my rooms."

It seemed inevitable, but she must proceed with caution. After she shared his bed, she must make a clean break before he discovered her true identity. Which meant they must find the killer first.

"While I have more freedom than some, I must return home this evening or face awkward questions from my aunt." Hopefully Aunt Honoria thought her in bed with a headache and wouldn't bother her until morning, but there was always the chance her aunt would peek in on her.

"Then I shall see you safely to your house." He guided her out of the darkness and back toward the revelries.

Of course now he would want to play a gentleman when he'd had his hand under her skirts only minutes earlier. "You can see me safely to a hack."

"You are going to great pains to keep me a secret. Would it help if I called upon you tomorrow and introduced myself?"

"No!" The word came out more forcefully than she intended.

"I see," he said darkly. Was that a hint of hurt in his voice?

Excuses scrolled, and she settled on an easy one. "My aunt holds Americans in low regard. She is old enough to remember the wars."

"But you do not share her views?"

"I hold a certain respect for a people who buck authority."

He laughed, and she couldn't help but be infected by his good humor and optimism. "Given your interests, I'd say you enjoy bucking the system as well."

More than he even knew.

He continued. "If we cannot meet in your drawing room, then we must meet somewhere else. Do you have any ideas?"

"When can you procure us invitations?"

"Since we will not be furthering our acquaintance in my bed this evening," he said with a charming leer, if such a thing existed, "then I will spend the evening attempting to make the necessary contacts."

"Tomorrow near Grosvenor Gate?" They settled on three in the afternoon, before it became crowded with the fashionable set.

The revelries around them had devolved into a bacchanal. The veneer of respectability had been worn away, and Prudence gaped and stared at various couples openly kissing and fondling. Her steps slowed, but Duke hurried her along toward the main gate.

"That's no place for a respectable lady," he said in a voice that registered as prim.

A laugh sailed out of her. "That is a kettle-and-pot situation if I ever heard one considering what we were doing in the shadows."

He tucked her hand firmly into the crook of his elbow and leaned closer to whisper. "What we did was just for us. I would never flaunt you in front of a crowd."

He hailed a hack and looked to her with raised brows. "What direction should I give?"

"Cavendish Square." She and her aunt had let a small town house nearby. It was not as fashionable as some addresses, but was in a safe, respectable part of London.

"I would feel better if you allowed me to escort you home."

"Absolutely not. Arriving home alone in a hack will raise enough eyebrows. Arriving home in the company of a man would get the servants' tongues wagging. All will be well." Without thinking, she leaned in to brush a kiss across his mouth.

The British did not favor showing affection to loved ones. Even a husband would be ridiculed if he danced too many times with his wife.

Duke started, but instead of disapproval, he wrapped an arm around her waist and deepened the kiss until she was on her toes and her stomach was fluttering.

"Are you sure you won't change your mind and accompany me back to my rooms?" he whispered against her lips.

She almost said yes. But a kernel of fear sprouted, and she turned her face away with a hand on his chest. "I can't. Not this evening."

Even to her ears, her denial sounded weak, but he didn't press his advantage. He loosened his grip, took her hand and brushed a kiss along the back. "The anticipation will make it all the sweeter. Until tomorrow."

After handing her into the hired carriage, he rapped on the door as a signal to the driver and they lurched forward. She couldn't help but glance out of the window. Duke still stood on the pavement and blew her a kiss.

She sat back with a huff. Cheeky fellow. Yet when she touched her lips, she found herself smiling.