Page 17 of Unfettered

A pretty flower girl noticed Rodrigo’s profile, and more from a desire to catch his eye than to sell her wares, she sidled boldly to his window and swung her hips as she made her proposition. “Flowers, sir, for yer loidy?”

Rodrigo found her eyes and her smile inviting. He took a coin and put it in her hand. She beamed as she handed him the posy. He handed it back to her. “They aren’t half as pretty as your eyes.”

His carriage lurched forward, and he relaxed against the squabs of his coach. Why did he do that? Why must he flirt with every lovely he came across? What was wrong with him? What he needed was someone to take his thoughts away from a spitfire of a woman-child. Lady Jessie’s face appeared vividly before him. Her violet eyes flashed. She challenged him in ways he found exciting. Damn, why couldn’t he get her out of his head?

His mistress, June Keenen, was quite lovely, and she had satisfied his needs these past few months. He kept her in style not far from his own lodgings and visited her at least once or twice a week, but last week, he had been too restless in her company to stay and had left almost as soon as he had arrived. June was very good in bed, and yet lately, she had left him wanting something else, something more. Again, Jessie’s bright, innocent face came to mind. He was behaving like a fool. He didn’t take green girls to bed. He didn’t ruin young maids. He wouldn’t hurt a wild and lovely spirit, and that was Jessie. Wild, lovely, innocent, dear, and spirited. When he was with her, near her, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from flirting outrageously with her, but he would never actually seduce her...would he?

One day, like his mother, Jessie would marry for all the wrong reasons, and then, like his mother, take a lover. It was the way of the world. He didn’t judge that, but his mother had abandoned him, which had put up a spiked wall inside of him.

Right then, why the bloody hell was he paying a morning call to Jessie? Why? The hack had pulled up to the curbing near her establishment, and he hesitated as he stared at the steps to her front door.

* * * * *

Jessie played with a long loose strand of her flame-colored hair, then threw it over her shoulder. She dropped playfully down and onto the lap of the viscount, Paul Bellamy, and put her arms around his neck. “You are the greatest beast who has ever walked the earth!” she told him, and gave him a wicked grin.

“Jessica!” her great-aunt objected. “I will not have you dropping into Pauly’s arms like that and then calling him a beast. You two are no longer children. It won’t do. You behave as though you are both babes romping about. Stop it at once.”

Jessie pouted, and Pauly attempted to push her off his lap without success. “If you don’t get off, I shall accommodate your Aunt Charlotte’s request and shove you onto the floor!”

“Stop, that won’t do either!” the harried dowager almost yelled.

“But, Aunt Charlie...” Jessie started.

Her great-aunt laughed. “That is an abomination of my name. Why you must always use it is unfathomable to me. I won’t have it.”

“But I hear your friends often call you that,” Jessie supplied with a wicked smile. “Never mind. Pauly here has refused to take me to the Thames River Fair and Uncle says I am only to go if Pauly is in attendance.”

“Bless you, Jess, but crushing me new yellow pantaloons won’t get me in a mood to please you,” Pauly answered. “Now get off.”

Instead of getting off his lap, Jessie held on tighter and gurgled delightfully, “Please, Pauly, please. You have always said you are my brother, I am your sister. ‘Tis the job of a brother, especially since you are four months older, to take care of me.”

He looked to the dowager for help. “Tell her, Aunt Charlie, tell her the fair ain’t the thing. She won’t like seeing the dreadful creatures they have on display there. The sight of some of ‘em might even break her soft heart.”

“Trouble is, the wild child of ours will enjoy most of the fair immensely. She never did have any sensibility when it came to such things. She has been in raptures over the fact that you might take her to the fair, and blast it, boy, don’t be calling me Charlie,” she said, but the twinkle in her faded eyes belied the words.

He had called her Aunt Charlie since he was a boy, but he put on a mock face of shame. “Yes, but...” he started to object.

“Say you will take me, Pauly.” Jessie now began playing with his intricately tied cravat.

He brushed her hands away. “Stop it, you hoyden.” He sighed. “You and I both know taking you to the fair will end in trouble. There is no saying what mischief you will get up to.”

“You will stop me,” she gurgled.

“Ha! As though I have ever been able to stop you. I have no doubt I will not be able to, and you will drag me through the mischief as well.”

“Better take her and have done. I am tired of all this now,” the dowager stuck in with a wave of her hand.

“Oh God, I am finished,” Pauly breathed with a shake of his head. “I suppose I have no choice.”

“I adore you, Pauly,” Jessie cried in high glee as she gave him a bear hug and planted kisses all over his face. “I knew you would never say me nay!”

“But I tried to say you nay, I did,” he countered, grinning broadly.

No one noticed the door had opened. Too late, Jessie heard their butler say, “Don Rodrigo Cesares.”

Too late, Jessie scrambled off Pauly’s lap under Rodrigo’s scrutiny. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He had seen her on Pauly’s lap. He had seen her planting kisses on Pauly’s face. What must he think? Why should she care what he thought? She shouldn’t, she didn’t. He could darn well think what he must.

Jessie then noted he was looking devastatingly handsome in the style of Beau Brummell, a walking coat of fine dark blue. Its collar was precisely cut, as were the lines to his short waistcoat, where a cummerbund of darker blue could be seen. His shirt was cut in neat white lines, and his cravat tied with expertise. His pantaloons were tailored in buff and displayed to advantage his height and athletic form.

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