Page 27 of In a Rake's Embrace
-A lady must never be alone with a gentleman in a private space, as it invites scandal or assumptions of impropriety.
-While in conversation, a lady should maintain eye contact without staring too intently. A gaze too direct could be interpreted as improper or overly forward.
-When a gentleman bows, a lady should respond with a gentle curtsy, keeping her head slightly lowered to show modesty. The depth of the curtsy depends on the status of the person she is greeting.
Agatha pushed aside the sheaf of paper. Everything seemed calculated and controlled—every gesture, every word. The rigid structure felt stifling, as if being a lady of thetonwas not about expressing oneself but molding oneself into a precise, narrow image of perfection. She liked the mannerisms and enjoyed the new way of walking and the elegant gestures she had been practicing. Still, she was relieved that she did not belong to that world. Adhering to such strictures would surely stifle the joy in her life.
Agatha rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, her mind turning over the delicate balance she needed to master—the blend of demure grace and sensuality. For the past few days, she had spent hours with Bea, practicing her walk, perfecting the art of the subtle sway. They often ended up in fits of laughter, Bea teasing her about her overly serious expression as she tried to mimic the seductive glide. Agatha had grown fond of her, and despite their circumstances, she thought they might remain friends once she leftAphrodite.
She ran a hand through her hair, now softer and shinier than ever. It would never have occurred to her to waste eggs as part of her hair care routine, yet that was precisely what they haddone yesterday. Bea had also trimmed her nails, shaping them carefully until Agatha had been astonished by the realization that hands could be considered pretty. She had even soaked in a long bath earlier, the heated, rose-scented water soothing her aching muscles. Afterward, Molly massaged lavender oil into her skin. Smiling, Agatha clambered from the bed and went to the small writing desk to retrieve a sheaf of paper. She took a few minutes to prepare the ink and quill, then sat and started to write.
Dearest Gloria, Maggie, Sarah, Carson and Henry,
I miss you all so dreadfully. It sometimes feels silly because I only left home two weeks ago, but it’s true. London is a sight to behold. Its streets are bustling with carriages, fashionable people in the latest styles filling the pavements, and lads calling out the news of the day so everyone can hear it. The city feels both immense and tightly packed, with people from every imaginable walk of life. The skies are often overcast here, and the starsare dimmer than at home. I long for the open skies and bright stars of Devonshire. Yesterday, I had a charming conversation with an orange seller whose family is also from Devonshire, and the memory of home warmed me. And the food! It may be wretched of me to mention, but I have dined on prawns in crème sauce and quail with cranberry glaze. However, I promise I shall bring youall to London soon and treat you to the many wonderful foods here. There’s so much variety. Each meal brings new flavors that I never knew existed. It’s a true delight, and I think of all of you with each dish I savor.
I am very close to earning a handsome sum that could see me returning home sooner than I had ever hoped. I pray all is well with each of you. Should you wish to reply, direct your letter to Aphrodite on St. James Street.
With love,
Aga
A knock sounded at the door, breaking her reverie. A maid entered, curtsying politely. “Lord Radbourne is here, miss. He summons you to his private quarters.”
A spurt of good humor washed over Agatha.Summons me?She lowered the quill and folded her letter. “Inform the earl I shall be there in thirty minutes. Please see that this letter is delivered to my home. Afterward, please return and help me brush my hair and get dressed.”
The maid bobbed her head and hurried out.
She felt an unexpected rush of anticipation surging through her. As promised, the maid returned, and Agatha settled on the chair before the vanity, allowing the young girl to begin the slow, rhythmic process of brushing her hair. Each stroke sent her thick, dark tresses cascading down her back, crackling softly with a delicate swish as it reached her lower spine. The maid was meticulous, brushing it with dozens of strokes until it gleamed and felt like silk beneath Agatha’s fingers.
She closed her eyes, savoring the simple luxury. She had never thought of her hair as particularly special, but in moments like these, she understood the power of presentation—how every detail, from her nails to the subtle shine of her hair, played a part in crafting an image.
Once her hair was brushed to perfection, Agatha stood, allowing the maid to help her into a simple yet elegant gown. The fabric clung lightly to her figure, teasing the line between modesty and allure. Her reflection was a far cry from the woman who had first entered the doors ofAphrodite.
Agatha walked to Thomas’s private quarters, her steps steady though her pulse raced with anticipation. She pressed her hands to her stomach, hoping to stop the twisting nerves writhing inside.
“There is nothing to be nervous about,” she whispered, lifting her chin.
Agatha knocked gently, then entered, closing the door behind her. He stood by the mantel, staring into the fire. His jacket had been discarded, his cravat unknotted, and his hair tousled as though he had repeatedly raked his fingers through it.
He straightened and turned to face her. Her breathing quickened, and that provoking heat darted low in her stomach.
“My coachman told me you only asked to visit the park twice. There are many other sights to see.”
“Time and circumstances seldom permit the pleasure of reading for long hours. I spent most of the days reading. He might have also forgotten to mention that I walked about for hours, stretching my legs far beyond the parks. Thank you for allowing me to use your carriage. It was a great indulgence.”
Oh, stop, she silently wailed at her rambling.
A faint smile curved the earl’s lips as he nodded toward a package on the table. “That is for you.”
Curious, she stepped closer, eyeing the parcel.
“It will not bite,” he said dryly.
A light laugh escaped her. “What is it?”
“Books.”
She snapped her gaze to his. “For me?”
