Page 23 of His Brazen Tart
“You have found me out,” he murmured into her hair. “You are most certainly the one in control here.”
Joan linkedher arm through Miranda’s as they strolled along a footpath winding through Hyde Park. A pair of servants shadowed them from a distance, offering them privacy. However, Miranda had done most of the talking since they’d set out on their excursion, as Joan could hardly settle her mind long enough to contribute to the conversation. She might blame her absence of mind on an alarming lack of sleep for the past three weeks. However, it wasn’t the sleepless nights themselves that made a mess of her senses, but the man who had filled them with unparalleled pleasures. Piers had left her hours ago, just as the sun was rising. Joan had watched him dress to depart with drowsy, heavy-lidded eyes and a head swimming with a yawn. Her body was still sore in places from the way he’d bound her, her joints aching and her arse cheeks throbbing at the remembrance of Piers’ open palm against them.
With a sigh, she stared at the figure of a gentleman standing near the bank of the Thames. Was it Piers? The tufts of hair showing beneath the brim of his hat might be that luminous white gold, or perhaps it was the position of the sun that made them look so bright? She frowned, realizing the stranger wasn’t tall enough and too narrow through the shoulders.
“Shall I take you home and send for Sir Piers?” Miranda teased, prodding at Joan’s side with her elbow. “I think his attentions are the only cure for your present state.”
Joan blinked and looked at her friend, whose face was partially shadowed by the brim of her hat. Miranda’s lips quivered with humor and her eyes glistened with mischief.
Returning Miranda’s elbow jab, Joan grinned. “If you must know, my paramour is otherwise engaged this afternoon … but we do have plans for the evening.”
“Then things are going well?” her friend prodded. “We’ve seen little of you in recent weeks, but when we are granted the pleasure of your company, you seem … different.”
Joan furrowed her brow. “Do I? How so?”
“Well, the changes aren’t so very dramatic, but … you seem more settled, if that makes sense. Calmer, somehow.”
Joan dropped her gaze to the ground passing beneath her feet, the skirt of her gown wafting in the breeze. What Miranda described made perfect sense. Shefeltdifferent, changed on some fundamental level. She wanted to believe this was due to more than the discovery that she liked being bound and spanked. But, according to Piers, she could enjoy those practices with any man who knew what he was doing.
That could only mean the feeling of contentment that came from lying beside him while she slept was due to something else. As well, there were the frequent smiles he brought to her lips with his dry wit. In their short time together, Joan had begun to suspect that the hardened exterior of her courtesan concealed hidden depths. As she came to know him better, she discovered that one of his hidden traits was a sense of humor much like her own.
“I like Piers,” she hedged, not certain she was ready to share her innermost thoughts with Miranda. “We get on well together.”
The truth was, Piers confused her, and she suspected what she felt went far beyond the blandness of simple ‘liking.’
“Hmm,” Miranda hummed.
Joan cut her eyes in the direction of her friend, who walked beside her, gaze fixed forward and her expression benign. Still, Joan could hear the prodding curiosity in Miranda’s voice, the speculation underlying the innocuous sound. Among their tight-knit group of friends, Miranda was the most level-headed. She was also uncannily observant, and little escaped her notice.
“What?” Joan asked, still eying Miranda from the corner of her eye. “What’s that sound supposed to mean?”
“Only that I find that description of your connection to Piers to be rather … banal. You’ve spent nearly every waking hour with him for the past few weeks, and I know you cannot see yourself whenever his name is mentioned, but I can. You’re infatuated, Joan.”
She drew up short, pulling Miranda to a halt beside her. A cluster of young men out for a stroll moved around them, casting bewildered glances at Joan and Miranda as they stood in the middle of the path facing one another. Miranda’s lips ticked with amusement, while Joan’s pulled down into a scowl.
“This conversation sounds awfully familiar,” she snapped, narrowing her eyes at Miranda.
Her friend smiled, unaffected by Joan’s sudden shift in mood. “Those are the exact words some wise friends of mine spoke to me when I found myself in a similar circumstance. That is why I hope you will forgive my meddling, for no one understands how you might be feeling better than I do.”
Dash it all, Miranda was right.
“Oh, Miranda,” Joan whispered. “We aren’t at all the same. Roger is a different sort of man than Piers.”
“That may be true, but everyone wants to be loved, Joan. Even a man as worldly and guarded as Sir Piers.”
Joan shook her head, her heart sinking into the depths of her stomach. “He’s kept me at a distance from the beginning, but I cannot blame him for it. I thought I could do this, Miranda. I thought I could indulge in a bit of fun because I’ve been so bloody bored and … and alone. Yes, I have you, Mary and Maud, and you’re the best friends a woman could ask for.”
“But when you return home each night, it is to a house filled with people who are there to serve you and offer nothing else,” Miranda said. “I know exactly how you feel. It doesn’t matter how distant our husbands were, at least they werethere.”
Joan pressed her lips together, still reluctant to share the intimate details of her life with Gregory. While Miranda’s marriage hadn’t been a love match, neither had it been as miserable as Joan’s. Miranda’s first husband had treated her with polite civility, and there hadn’t been much affection. He hadn’t beat Miranda for perceived slights, or berated her for being too alluring to other men, too contrary to the expectations that had been placed on her.
“I told myself I didn’t want love anymore,” Joan whispered, allowing Miranda to lead her off the path so they could stand beneath a tree away from prying ears. “Searching for it only ended in pain for me, and I thought I could be content with finding someone to amuse me until we both grew bored and went our separate ways.”
Miranda snorted a soft laugh. “Darling, I have learned that the precise moment you stop seeking something is when it miraculously findsyou.”
Joan scoffed and shook her head. “And what am I to do when it is clear that I want something he so clearly does not? For God’s sake, Piers didn’t even become a courtesan because he had to … he did it so that he could have affairs with women of his choosing without having to worry about complications.” She released a bitter, humorless laugh at the irony of her situation. “And here I am … complicating matters.”
Miranda took her hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Then you know what you must do. You are a beautiful, witty, vivacious woman who any man would be fortunate to call his own. If Sir Piers cannot give you what you want—what you deserve—then you must end it. You will only be hurt in the end if you prolong the inevitable.”
