Page 24 of His Brazen Tart
Joan lowered her eyes, not wanting to acknowledge that Miranda was right. Damn her for being so wise! She had known all along what needed to be done, but had convinced herself that she and Piers could continue on as they had been. However, the more she opened herself to him, the longer they lingered in bed together after being intimate, the more she learned about the man who had exposed her to new facets of her own inner self, the more entangled she became.
She felt things for Piers that she had never felt for anyone else. Worse than that, Joan felt differently about herself when she was with him. There was a certain freedom about allowing someone to see her as she truly was, and be accepted without condition. Not to mention how liberating it was to discover that there was someone in the world who didn’t scorn her for the traits she had tried for years to suppress. She could be bold and brash and speak her mind. She could enjoy a cigarillo without being told it was unladylike, and she could revel in her own sensual nature without being made to feel ashamed.
The bitter truth of the matter was that she had finally found the perfect man, only to be realize that once he understood the depth of her feelings he would want nothing more to do with her.
She was the one who had pushed past his boundaries, giving parts of herself to Piers knowing very well he wouldn’t want to keep them. And now, she would be the one to suffer for it.
Chapter 10
Ajaunty bounce punctuated Piers’ steps as he descended the stairs of his townhouse. A footman awaited him with his greatcoat and hat, while across town, Joan anticipated his arrival at Olympus. She had yet to secure her own membership, but because Warin Lyons was aware of the arrangement between Piers and Joan, he allowed her entry without question.
He hadn’t seen Joan in days, and found he was looking forward to spending the evening with her. Of course, the excitement coursing through his veins was caused by more than lustful heat. While his body hummed with barely-contained hunger, there was another sensation just as strong. Piers had spent the past several weeks trying to convince himself that there was nothing unusual about his current lover or his reactions to her. He had tried his best to believe that he was only experiencing the novelty of a new paramour—one who just so happened to excite him in a way no keeper before her had done. However, Piers had always prided himself on a certain amount of self-awareness. He didn’t entertain delusions or run from the truth.
Joan Durbin was special, and the time he spent with her had become important to him. Their encounters were about more than scratching a physical itch, or fulfilling the now-forgotten desire to have a bedmate who could be relied upon to maintain an emotional distance. Joan was a breath of fresh air after so many years of suffocation. She made him laugh and smile, and calmed the part of him that was prone to run from anything that posed a danger to his heart.
It would be pure madness to succumb and allow the fissure she had created in his defenses to deepen and widen. But he feared it was too late. He was enamored with her; there was no denying that now. Piers had come to accept that his feelings toward Joan went deeper than a purely physical plane. But accepting what he felt didn’t make it any easier for Piers to determine what the devil he was supposed to do now.
As a younger man, he would have allowed himself to be swept into the romantic abandon of it all—throwing caution to the wind and making plans to turn this contract with Joan into something less temporary. But then, the younger Piers would never have entered into such a deal with a woman. He would never have joined the ranks of the Gentleman Courtesans. A younger Piers had a whole, untarnished heart, one that didn’t need protecting.
But he wasn’t a boy anymore. He had tasted the harsh realities of life and learned many valuable lessons—not the least of which was not to trust his heart, but to rely on the logic of his mind.
Pushing aside the yearnings of a damaged heart that had known rejection and scorn, Piers understood that his days with Joan were numbered. She had hired him for a purpose, and thus far, he had fulfilled her needs without a wrinkle. However, the dread expanding in his middle warned him that he was too entangled with her, too attached to the woman herself. Joan had made it clear that she had hired him to entertain and pleasure her, to fulfill the desires and fantasies that had gone unsatisfied throughout the years of her miserable marriage.
Joan had eligible men dogging her every step, each one simply waiting for a chance to gain her notice. Piers wasn’t blind or stupid—he noticed the longing glances she attracted and heard the whispers that followed in her wake. She was beautiful and vivacious, and likely the most coveted woman of thebeau monde.Like most women of her world, when Joan grew bored of him, she would move on to her next conquest.
The ending of an arrangement typically excited Piers because it meant the beginning of another. Yet, the thought of going from Joan’s bed, straight into that of some faceless, unknown woman, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Nevertheless, it was exactly what he would do. This was the life he had chosen for himself, and for valid reasons.
The sound of voices drew him from his thoughts, and Piers realized he had stood in the entrance hall woolgathering without realizing someone had come to the door. Frowning, he edged closer to the butler, whose body impeded his view of whoever was on the other side. It was a woman—Piers could tell by the voice, though he also realized it wasn’t Joan. Irritation lanced through him as he realized the chit was arguing with his servant, who had informed her that the master of the house was indisposed.
“If you would simply show him my calling card, hewillsee me,” the disembodied voice insisted.
“Your Ladyship, I would be happy to present the card to Sir Piers once he has returned home and inform him that you called,” the butler replied—slowly and patiently, as if lecturing a child. “But it is as I previously said … he is currently unavailable.”
Piers glanced over the butler’s shoulder and froze in his tracks. Standing on his doorstep with hands perched on her hips and a scowl twisting her lovely face was Lysandra. Her pale eyes landed on him with the force of a pair of daggers. The frigidity in them remained, despite the smile she flashed at him.
“Piers, darling, there you are!” she chirped. The venomous tone she had used on the butler was replaced with one light and syrupy sweet. It was as much a farce as the woman she had presented herself to be all those years ago. “I am certain your butler means well, but perhaps you might instruct him on comportment when dealing with ladies ofhigh society.”
The servant stiffened and his eyes flared with enmity, but Piers pulled the man back with nothing more than a touch on the shoulder.
“He is acting as I instructed. In case it has escaped your notice, I am on my way out for the evening. What do you want, Lysandra?”
“Such a lack of manners,” she muttered with a delicate sniff.
“Yes,” Piers replied, narrowing his eyes. “Why bother with niceties when you went out of your way to ensure I knew just how beneath you I was? I’m no gentleman, as you saw fit to inform me back then. Nothing has changed, so I am confused as to your presence on my doorstep. There is nothing for you here, my lady.”
Pushing her lower lip into a pout, she stared up at him through the thick fan of her eyelashes. “After all we have been through, I had hoped you might at least allow me the courtesy of a private conversation,” she argued. “It will only take a moment.”
She was still every inch the coquette. But Piers had been wrong. Some things had changed, one of them being that he was no longer a gullible boy who fell prey to such performances.
“Absolutely not,” he argued, stepping over the threshold. “I’m meeting someone and am already late.”
He had taken two steps toward the street when Lysandra’s voice brought him up short.
“Are you referring to Mrs. Durbin?” she called after him.
Piers went still, hands clenching tight at his sides. He and Joan had been spotted about London together on several occasions, but a little gossip wasn’t concerning. Joan was a widow, and he a confirmed bachelor of a certain reputation. However, something about the way Lysandra had so slyly mentioned Joan set his teeth on edge. He couldn’t walk away without ensuring his former betrothed knew nothing of the real arrangement between he and Joan.
