Page 15 of His Brazen Tart
Piers sighed. He hated that he had no real argument to conjure against her prying. “My favorite book—”
“Wait, I’ve changed my mind,” she blurted suddenly. “I would like to know how you became a courtesan.”
He stared at Joan, taken aback by the sudden change of subject. But then, Piers realized this was something he could easily speak of.
“Well,” he began. “Most of the Gentleman Courtesans join the agency out of need. Each contract guarantees a hefty initial deposit, which allows them to see to their own comfort regardless of how the arrangement itself commences.”
“I assume need isn’t your reason?”
Piers shrugged. “My inheritance was adequate, but I am of the opinion that one can never have enough security. Capital is no hardship for me.”
Joan huffed a soft laugh. “And here I thought a gentleman never discussed his finances with anyone … let alone a woman.”
“It is a popular opinion amongst our peers that I am no gentleman.”
“You’re a baronet; of course you’re a gentleman.”
“I’m a baronet because my grandfather purchased a title. It will take a few more generations for the stain of that to wash clean.”
She waved his words away as if combating a wayward bee. “Nonsense. Who cares what anyone else thinks?”
Piers stared at Joan in silence for the span of a few disrupted heartbeats. His reaction to her beyond the physical was against his nature—one that he had carefully cultivated as a form of protection against the world. However, the more they conversed, the more Piers began to see that they were similar in many regards. Perhaps that was what made it so easy to speak of such sore subjects. There were still a few things he never wished to talk about with anyone, but if one were going to be forced to play this game of trading personal details with another, one could certainly do worse than Joan Durbin.
“Quite,” he agreed. “But … in answer to your question, I became a courtesan on a lark. I discovered that an acquaintance of mine was employed by the agency and asked him to introduce me to the proprietor.”
Joan sat forward in her seat, a curious look leveled at him as she braced her chin in one hand. “I am surprised that Mr. Sterling would allow it. He strikes me as being very protective of the men under his care.”
Piers shrugged. “He receives a commission from every contract, and my particular … skill set makes me a valuable commodity.”
Joan’s lashes fluttered downward in an uncustomary display of shyness. It was too dark for him to know for sure, but he imagined her cheeks flushing pink. She must recall being tied to that chair in his dining room and punished before being thoroughly pleasured. His cock surged with a rush of heated blood at the memory.
“And where does one learn such skills?” she murmured, her gaze flicking up to meet his.
“There are clubs about Town, all of them secret with an exclusive set of requirements for membership. As a younger man, I visited these places out of curiosity. My times there were very informative.”
“I see. Then requests for your type of … domination … are frequent?”
“More than you could imagine. I am certain the reasons of my clients are not so different than yours.”
She gave him a coy smirk. “And just what do you know of my reasons, sir?”
Piers leaned in until they were face to face over the space between their seats. “Nothing,” he teased. “That was my clumsy way of trying to ferret them out.”
She laughed, the sound sudden and boisterous and nearly too loud for the small space of the vehicle. Piers smiled, surprised to realize he liked it.
“My reasons are simple,” she replied. “I was bored of ordinary men. Since becoming a widow, I have devoted my time to chasing the things that excite me. I want to experience life as I was never allowed to before.”
Piers lifted a hand to cup her chin, his thumb tracing the curved line of her lower lip. “Oh, my dear,” he purred. “I will ensure you experience life in a way you will never forget.”
Chapter 7
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Joan asked a few nights later.
“No. Now be quiet,” her companion replied with a stern look that was nearly ruined by the amusement curving the corners of his mouth.
Piers had arrived at her townhouse on their agreed-upon date for an evening out. Only, her courtesan had refused to reveal his plans for the evening. All he had told Joan was that she would enjoy herself, while hinting that the night would end pleasurably.
Joan fought not to squirm in her seat at the thought. They hadn’t seen one another since the night of the opera, and while their scandalous interlude in her private box had been satisfying, it had merely taken the edge off her smoldering desires. She had never wanted like this before. Piers was a truly enthralling person, his sour disposition and guardedness aside. It wasn’t difficult to see why he had cultivated such a persona when all of high society gossiped behind his back while treating him as a duck amongst swans.
