Page 18 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
“Well, you’re no fun.”
“So more than one gentleman has told me.”
“Minerva, I didn’t—”
She squeezed Grace’s hand. “I know. I’m just being difficult. And the truth is that I’m not bothered by the myriad of ways that gentlemen find me lacking. It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks as long as I’m true to myself—as my mother, bless her, constantly reminds me. Last night, for the first time, I actually believed it. It was quite liberating.” While everything that happened there was not to be spoken of, this was Grace, her dearest friend. “I caught a very fine gentleman’s attention.”
Grace’s eyes widened as she leaned forward. “Who?”
Minerva scowled.
“Right then. You can’t tell me. Was he handsome?”
“Why does everyone care about looks? But, yes, exceedingly so.”
“Charming?”
“Very.”
“Nobility?”
“Yes.”
“Dark hair?”
Laughing at her friend’s blatant attempt to deduce who he might have been, she shook her head. “Enough, Grace. I’m not going to play your little game. You’d never guess anyway. But I will tell you that he was immensely intriguing. He spoke about the beauty of the human form, in particular my legs.”
“He saw your legs?”
“Well, not the entire leg. Just up to my calf. But when I arrived, I had to change into this silky bit of nothing, very similar to what is depicted in paintings that reflect the women of Rome. It’s extremely easy to get into and, I suppose, exceedingly easy for a gent to get you out of. While I was almost completely covered except for my arms and décolletage, it didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. No corset, no petticoats. I rather liked it, actually. It was light as a feather. But I suppose its purpose is to provide a more accurate assessment of one’s figure.”
“What did the men wear?”
Minerva scoffed. “That was the irritating part—they wore everything. I shall never understand why men and women must have different rules.” She smiled. “But he removed his boots, so I would be more comfortable. Still, I just couldn’t get comfortable enough to climb into bed with him.”
“So what did you do?”
“It’s going to sound silly, but we talked.” She moved closer. “Here’s the thing—he looked into my eyes when we conversed. So intensely as though he was truly interested. I have sat in the front parlor with gentlemen who were mesmerized by the design of their teacups. I ask a question, they answer with a solitary word. I attempt to start a discourse, and they can’t be bothered to keep it going. I’m irrelevant. They seek to impress me by merely making an appearance. My man last night was attentive. He asked me questions. He told me a story from his past.” She sighed. “It was bittersweet, Grace. To experience what it is to have the attention of a man who was intrigued by me. After I arrived home, I rather wished I hadn’t left the Nightingale.”
“It wasn’t real, Minnie.”
“Trust you to be so honest and blunt. Still it felt real. I’m rather convinced that not everyone is there for what goes on between the sheets.”
“Why are they there?”
“I’m not sure. I expected to see people hungrily kissing or maybe even fornicating on a table or a chair—but there was none of that.” She gave her head a slight shake, lifted a shoulder. “Oh, people sat closely together, and I saw a hand on a thigh here or a hip there, but they weren’t ashamed of what they were doing.”
“How could you tell? They were wearing masks.”
“Not the men.”
“But men are never ashamed.”
Minerva smiled. “I suppose you have a point. Still, it would be nice if we were a bit more open about things.”
“So you were open with your parents and told them where you were going?”
“Absolutely not!” She shoved playfully on Grace’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean we should be that open about things. No, I waited until they’d gone to bed. I slipped out, found a cab. Then my gentleman insisted his driver bring me home—only I had him take me to the Twin Dragons. I couldn’t risk his discovering who my parents are. I don’t think he’s the blackmail sort, but you know my father. He would protect me and my reputation at any cost.”
