Page 5 of His Brazen Tart
However, Joan found herself reluctant to speak on the subject of Sir Piers Lovelace. Perhaps it was because she didn’t know what to make of the man just yet.
Joan considered herself a sophisticate, experienced and more than capable of handling herself in the company of men. But then, Piers was unlike any man she’d ever met. It wasn’t just the commanding way he had spoken to Joan, or the threats of punishment that had sent a queer feeling spiraling through her. There was something else about Piers that called for closer inspection … something she wouldn’t be able to identify until she spent more time in his company.
“There isn’t much to tell,” she hedged. “Our conversation was brief, and we are to meet in private for the first time soon.”
It annoyed her not to know exactly when or where this meeting would take place, but Piers seemed to delight in keeping her on edge. One thing was for certain, Joan could expect for him to challenge her at every turn. Of course, this was exactly what she had wanted. Nonetheless, it would take some growing accustomed to.
“I don’t care how little there is,” Miranda argued. “Talk slowly and include details.”
Mary’s head bobbed in silent agreement, while Maud rolled her eyes and shook her head in quiet disapproval.
“Well,” Joan began. “He’s rather handsome … startlingly so. Quite tall, though most people are compared to me. His figure is divine—broad an athletic, though nottoobulky. The tailoring of his clothes left me thinking he will be rather nice to look at naked.”
“Ooohh,” Mary breathed, biting her lip. “He sounds wonderful.”
Joan’s vision grew unfocused as she remembered laying eyes on Piers from a distance for the first time, then being startled by those pale, penetrating eyes of his when he drew close.
“His coloring is rather unique,” she went on. “His hair is a bright blond, almost white.”
Miranda wrinkled her nose. “Gray?”
“No, it’s warmer than that, like white gold. He has blue eyes, but they are much lighter than mine. Really, he’s rather angelic-looking.”
Mary sat up straighter in her chair, the scone forgotten on her plate. “Wait … you cannot be speaking of Sir Piers Lovelace, the baronet?”
Joan frowned. “Yes, that’s him. But, how …”
“Oh, darling, everyone knows who he is,” Mary insisted. “I cannot believe you haven’t heard of the scandal of his broken engagement. Though … it was years ago, and you would have still been married to Mr. Durbin.”
That would explain why Joan was ignorant about Piers and whatever reputation he might have. Gregory had made various demands of her during their marriage, and trying to meet them without displeasing her husband had kept Joan occupied with her own affairs. Her involvement in society back then couldn’t compare to the freedom she enjoyed now.
“What happened?” Miranda prodded.
“Sir Piers is the third baronet of his line,” Mary replied. “His grandfather purchased the title some decades back. Of course, in certain circles the baronetcy isn’t old enough to erase the stain of common blood and birth. They were mostly shunned, though a few connections allowed the second baronet some amount of influence. Sir Piers became quite popular for a time. His father paid his way into Oxford, where he connected with the sons of dukes and earls and the like.”
Joan sat forward in her chair, interest snared by Mary’s tale. By the standards of theton, Piers was very much like her late husband. Gregory had been derided as a social-climber and an opportunist, which was why he had relied on the possession of Joan as his wife to make his way into the higher strata of society. It hadn’t always been an effective ploy, so Joan knew what it was like to stand on the fringes and stare into a world that only accepted her when she could be of use or provide a spectacle.
“What happened?” she asked. “Who was he engaged to?”
“Lady Lysandra Claremont.”
A stunned silence fell over them and even Maud was drawn in, a look of shock softening her severe features.
“Theduke’sdaughter?” Miranda exclaimed, her eyes wide.
“The very one,” Mary said. “Sir Piers made friends with her brother at university, and the two were introduced at a dinner party. He pursued her determinedly for nearly a year. Their courtship was the talk of the season, and I heard rumors of thousands of pounds wagered in the betting books over whether the duke’s daughter would condescend to wed the son of a mere baronet.”
“It sounds like a nightmare for the poor man,” Maud mused, her pointed chin rested on her hand. “Thetonis often cruel and intolerant. I don’t think I could withstand being scrutinized by so many.”
“He seemed to take it all in stride,” said Mary with a shrug. “If the talk bothered Sir Piers, he never let on.”
“I take it something went wrong,” Miranda cut in. “As the lady in question is now married with two children … butnotto Sir Piers.”
Joan recalled that the duke’s daughter had wed the Marquis of Hardwick in a lavish St. George’s ceremony. She also remembered that Gregory had done his damnedest to secure an invitation to the event, only to find himself rebuffed. Naturally, Joan had taken the blame for it, as she had all his failings.
“No one is entirely certain what happened,” Mary answered. “One day, she was being courted by Sir Piers, and the next, the banns were being read for her marriage to Hardwick. London was ablaze with gossip for months, even after the two had wed and quit town for their honeymoon. Sir Piers all but disappeared from society, and is rarely seen. I am surprised he agreed to meet you at a ball, Joan.”
“I’m not certain it was his idea,” said Joan. “The proprietor was the one who told me when and where to meet him.”
