Kasey Michaels - The Regency Redgraves - What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares

“I SUPPOSE IT WILL DO,” Adam Collier said, sighing disappointedly as he made his way around Jessica, taking a full circuit in his red-heeled shoes, quizzing glass stuck to his eye. “But perhaps too crushingly ordinary? I mean, really—lavender? Must we?” He waved the glass at the hovering modiste. “Bows. That’s what’s needed. At the hem, on those capped sleeves. Yes, that’s the very thing. I’m never wrong. See to it, woman.”

Jessica rolled her eyes as she looked into the mirror at her reflection. “Bows, Adam? We’re in mourning, remember? By rights, I shouldn’t be going into society at all. You may escape with that ridiculous black band, but I can hardly pretend Papa and Clarissa aren’t barely in their graves. Even if he did publicly disown me for eloping with James.”

“I had that wrong, didn’t I? You didn’t eat bad fish, you married it.” Adam shrugged eloquently in his tightly fitted swan tailcoat. “I was young, and not told much of anything. Your name simply wasn’t to be mentioned again. Mama explained that, though.”

“Oh? And how did that explanation go, precisely?”

“It pained Papa to think of you, of course.” Adam snatched up one of the hastily constructed bows made up of the same lavender silk and held it to the center of Jessica’s bodice. “No, not there. Yes, just as I first thought, on the sleeves, and then a dozen more, dancing about the hem. And perhaps dusted with something sparkling? I do adore sparkles. A pity we men can’t embellish ourselves with brilliance. Although Papa used to sprinkle glittering dust in with the powder for his wig on special occasions, as I recall it. Vain man, our father, and he would persist in clinging to his periwig even after the fashion so clearly changed. He should have seen himself after the fire. No amount of glitter could have been any help to him then, hmm?”

“Adam!” Jessica pulled him closer, ignoring his near shriek of alarm as she wrinkled his neck cloth in her fist. “Take a moment to think where we are,” she whispered in warning. “Someone could overhear you. Imagine Gideon’s reaction.”

Adam carefully disengaged himself from her grip, then anxiously fluffed at the lacy cravat. “I’d rather not, thank you. I’d rather not think about him at all. Are you quite sure you want to bracket yourself to my brute of a guardian? He won’t let either one of us take two steps in any direction on our own. His dogs drool , and he dresses with no imagination whatsoever. Black and white. Blue and tan. Black and white again. I imagine he will expire of ennui within the year. No sense of style. None. Did I mention his dogs drool? And leave their hair everywhere, to be caught up on my rig-outs? I don’t know how I put up with it, truly I don’t. As it is, my valet must follow me around with a brush…and a sponge.”

“If you’re quite finished, Adam?” Jessica said as the modiste pinned the last bow to her hem. “Thank you, Marie, that’s much better. My brother may have a future in designing women’s gowns.”

Adam brightened at this suggestion. “One can only hope so. Only those with a keen eye for such things are invited to witness a woman’s toilette , you know. And once in the proximity of the bedchamber, a clever fellow can make further inroads.”

“More clever than attempting to inroad Mildred in a cupboard, I would hope.”

Adam gave a wave of his hand, the lace-edged handkerchief perpetually clutched in his paw giving off a whiff of rather cloying scent. “I should ask the woman just who was the instigator of that aborted tryst, were I you. She offered to further my education. I knew what that meant, let me tell you! Demmed inconvenient of you to discover us just as she was being so clever about unbuttoning my breeches. Strong teeth, the woman has. We did, however, reconvene later, and it would appear Mildred is a creature of her word, for it was an education I received. Oh, my, yes.”

“Adam, for the love of God…”

“Yes, yes, for the love of somebody, I’m sure,” he said offhandedly. “For Mildred, however, it was a half crown and my most sincere thanks. I’ll turn my back again now, so that the lavender disappears, which may not please God but will thrill me beyond measure. What else were you so silly as to order without first consulting me?”

“I only ordered a few things,” she told him. “Gideon insisted upon taking care of the rest after I was measured, while I had tea and cakes in a small guest parlor. It’s his money, so that seemed only proper. Besides, I don’t know the current fashions.”

“Does that explain the lavender, or was it his choice?”

“Mine, if you must know,” she admitted, feeling rather put upon.

“And again we give thanks, and good on Gideon,” Adam said. “If I were to have to witness the unveiling of an entire wardrobe of the incredible dullness you consider proper, sister mine, I would wonder what terrible sin I’ve committed to be punished so. But good old Gideon has had the dressing and undressing of literally dozens of women, I would suppose, so he may have developed an eye for what best flatters the female form.”

“You say the most delightful things, Adam,” Jessica told him as Marie looked at her in some compassion before bustling out of the room.

“I do? Oh, that wasn’t a compliment, was it? How gauche of me. My apologies, I’m sure. But think on it, Jessica, the man’s dead old, so he has to have had his share. I’m just eighteen, and I’ve already bedded eight—no, Mildred wasn’t an actual bedding, now that I think on it, but more of a footnote—so, seven different females already this year. A dozen last year, and the year before, ten, I believe. I keep a journal, you see, so I can check if you should want me to total them up for you. All my conquests are captured there in detail, names, dates, number and level of encounters and the form each took. In the event I decide to one day pen my memoirs, you understand. Papa suggested it and reviewed it every year, making suggestions as to how I could improve. But to continue, the year before that—”

Jessica looked to the curtained doorway, relieved to see Marie wasn’t already heading back into the fitting room with another gown. “The year before that you were fifteen!”

He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Yes, I was. For my birthday, Papa took me to the Duck and Grapes and sent me upstairs with two of the barmaids, to make a man of me, he said. Two , Jessica! Conquest is what a man is all about, and he would be sure to make me a man. Each birthday, a new delight was in store for me. The passions of the flesh feed the passions of the mind, so that it’s imperative for a man with aspirations of greatness to dine, as it were, with regularity, et cetera, ad nauseam . It’s our duty to fornicate with as many women as possible. That’s what Papa told me, all but drummed into my head.”

He laughed. Perhaps giggled. “I just wanted the women, you understand, so I humored him. Mama, bless her, encouraged me, as well. I was surrounded by comely housemaids, handpicked by her. Adventuresome sorts, and eager to please. Isn’t it grand to live in such a free and open society?”

Halfway through these astounding revelations, Jessica’s mouth had dropped open, and she stared at her brother’s back, unable to tell him to stop. This was what she’d wanted to hear, although had dreaded the hearing, had still not found a way to broach the subject with him. But now he was volunteering it all, and without shame, even without pride, thank God. But did he have to pick this place, this moment?