Page 12 of His Brazen Tart
“She was determined to make me into the perfect society miss,” Joan continued, still absently staring out into the night. “And for a time, she was successful. I was taught to restrain my every natural impulse. Don’t laugh too loudly or smile too wide. Never converse in public about subjects outside of the weather, the decorations at an event, or another person’s good health. Once becoming acquainted, I was allowed to draw attention—subtly, of course—to my own attributes and accomplishments. I was to agree with everything a man said, no matter how ridiculous, and laugh at his jokes no matter how dry.”
Piers cringed. “That sounds dreadful.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his at last, and Piers found he was unable to look away. Quiet humor curved her lovely mouth, drawing his attention to the inky black dot above her upper lip.
“It worked,” she replied at a near whisper. “Such performances drew the men to me in droves, much to Mother’s delight. I was named the season’s Incomparable in short order.”
This, Piers had observed many times. He had known many young ladies just like Joan, though from his perspective most seemed to lack an original thought, idea, or personality trait of her own. Yet, he had learned for himself that such an assumption wasn’t true—not when it came to certain ladies. Lysandra had presented herself to him as a prim and sweet girl who was as besotted with him as he was with her. Piers had learned how conniving and manipulative she was the hard way. Her duplicity had taught him not to trust appearances. Anyone of means and influence in this world wore a costume, showing a mask to the world. Joan’s mask had been one of prim docility.
“What happened?” he prodded, realizing that he truly wanted to know.
He might not have been interested in this story if not for the woman telling it. There was something about Joan that intrigued him, and now that they were settling into one another as courtesan and keeper, there was no reason not to indulge his own curiosity.
Were she a mere acquaintance he might have avoided this conversation, not wanting her to think his interest in her went beyond the physical. But, being a courtesan meant also providing a listening ear from time to time, and Piers wouldn’t begrudge Joan that; not when she had begun to tempt his interest.
“I realized I would never be happy if I continued allowing my mother to guide my every move,” she said. “So, I turned down every proposal I received that season and vowed to do things differently going forward.”
“That must have annoyed your mother.”
Joan scoffed. “Actually, she was quite pleased. Mother thought me a genius for not wedding after my first season. After all, I was the most coveted debutante in society. Surely, I could earn even better offers the next season. No man desires a woman who others do not also want.”
Piers decided then and there that he disliked Joan’s mother very much. He had found himself on the other end of the machinations of such women more times than he could count and despised the way it made him feel.
“Two more seasons passed me by,” Joan went on. “But I approached them far differently. I went into each of them determined to be myself and damn the consequences. If a man couldn’t find it in himself to want me for who I truly was, then he wasn’t worth marrying.”
Piers raised an eyebrow, even more intrigued by Joan than before. He had never met a woman of this world who would admit wanting to be desired for herself. They were all so busy playing games and acting out their bits of theater.
“Were you pleased with your results?” he asked.
“Not particularly,” she admitted. “There were a few who seemed to admire me, but they would never bring themselves to propose. The ones who did wish to marry me always struck me as the wrong sorts of men. They looked at me as if eying a wild mare that needed taming. One man even said—aloud and to my face, mind you—that when he became my husband, he would look forward toinstructingme in the ways of proper comportment.”
“Charming,” Piers drawled.
“Wasn’t he?” she quipped. “It seemed that no matter what I did, the only men who wanted me were the sorts I didn’t want. I nearly resigned myself to going unwed for the rest of my life.”
“How did you end up married to the intolerable Mr. Durbin?”
Joan pulled a face just as the carriage rolled to a stop. Piers nearly banged on the roof and yelled for the driver to circle the block a few times. He wanted to hear the rest of Joan’s story.
The vehicle rocked and the sound of voices came at them from outside. Piers leaned in, waiting for Joan’s response.
She held his gaze and didn’t budge an inch when the door swung open, and his footman appeared with an outstretched hand. “My family’s fortunes changed, and I had no choice but to accept a marriage. Any marriage.”
Without another word, Joan dismounted from the carriage, leaving Piers with no choice but to follow.
Chapter 6
Joan stilled the restless tap of her toes against the floor beneath her skirts and stole a glance at Piers from the corner of her eye. She never missed a Thursday evening at the opera when in Town, as she enjoyed the performances. As a younger woman, she had envied the sopranos the power and resonance of their voice when she couldn’t carry a tune even if she were provided a bucket.
However, tonight she was having the devil of a time keeping her attention on the stage. Her conversation with Piers in the carriage flitted through her mind over and over, a reminder that she had revealed things to her courtesan that only her dearest friends knew. While they had arrived at the theater before her mouth ran away with her to the point she began detailing Gregory’s abuses, Joan was still annoyed with herself. She had hired Piers to pleasure her, not to act as her confidant.
So then, how had she ended up spilling the truth of her past to him? She had been teasing Piers by insisting they learn more about each other, and had thought only to trade frivolous details. However, the truth about her hatred for Gregory had come spilling out before she could think better of it, followed by the events that had led to her miserable marriage.
Still, she had to admit Piers had taken her by surprise, turning out to be a good listener. While in conversation with so many men, Joan often became frustrated. When they weren’t ignoring the words coming from her lips to stare down her bodice, they were waiting for her to finish talking so they could insert their own opinions. Piers had listened and responded to her in a way that let her know he had truly heard her. Perhaps there was more to this courtesan business than she had bargained for. It had felt good to tell someone—anyone—how she truly felt about her deceased husband. It was true that her friends knew her marriage hadn’t been a pleasant one. However, none of them was privy to the misery Gregory had subjected her to.
She had nearly revealed those things to Piers.
Joan flinched, compressing her lips to keep from crying out when a warm current of air suddenly tickled the side of her neck. Piers’ voice filled her ear, and the scents of peppermint and cinnamon flooded her nostrils.
