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Authors: Sabrina Jeffries

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BOOK: In The Prince's Bed
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“What a sacrifice,” he teased. “I see that your mother and I will be fast friends.”

“You say that now because you don’t know her. She’s always doing things like this. I have half a mind to march off in search of her by myself.”

“But you won’t because…”

“It’s not proper.” She sighed. “Although that’s a foolish rule if I ever heard one. What harm is there in a woman’s traversing a ballroom alone?”

“Nice to know I’m not the only one who doesn’t take the proprieties seriously.”

“I
do
take them seriously. I merely wish I didn’t have to.”

He bent his head to whisper, “You don’t. Not with me.”

A frisson of anticipation shook her to her toes. Fighting to ignore it, she cast him a stern glance. “I can well imagine which proprieties you’d like me to ignore.”

“I doubt that.” His hand stroked hers with an intimacy that violated every rule of propriety. “But if you want to take a stroll in the garden, I’ll show you.”

She firmly removed his hand from hers before he melted her resolve entirely. “I’ve had quite enough lessons of that sort for one night, thank you.” Sweeping her gaze about the room, she nearly collapsed with relief to see Mama and Sydney enter from the card room.

“Ah, look, there they both are,” she said brightly.

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“You see?” Alec rumbled. “You had nothing to worry about. Lovelace didn’t abandon you after all.”

“Actually, he’d already asked me to dance the last with him so he could take me in to supper. And Sydneyis nothing if not conscious of his obligations.”

“All except one.” Alec slanted her a glance. “Would it matter so much if he didn’t come up to snuff? If you ask me, you don’t seem to suit.”

“Why, because he won’t kiss me? That will change once we’re married.”

Alec slowed his pace. “In my experience, marriage doesn’t change a man. It merely throws his bad qualities into high relief.”

“Really?” she said tartly. “So you’ve been married, have you?”

A reluctant smile touched his lips. “No. But I watched my father, who was not very… affectionate. His example has stayed with me.”

“As my father’s has with me. Believe me, indiscriminate affection can be every bit as damaging as none at all.”

“So you’ve decided on a man who will give you the latter.”

“I’ve decided on a man who can be my friend. Friendship will last long after the other is gone.”

“Sounds dull to me,” he retorted.

Sydney and Mama had spotted them, and Mama was waving in a most unladylike manner. Katherine winced. “That’s because you’re the one engaging in the wild revelries, not the one dealing with the aftermath. You’re not the one living amidst the jealous rages and embarrassing village gossip about Squire Merivale’s latest indiscretions. It’s a good thing you never did marry. At least you’ve spared some hapless woman such a life.”

Without warning, he tugged her out of sight behind a pillar and turned her to face him, his eyes glittering.

“Let’s settle one thing. No matter what you’ve heard about me, I did not spend my time abroad lurching from woman to woman in reckless abandon.”

“Then how
did
you spend it?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Keeping busy, that’s all. There’s plenty to do abroad when a man has all the time in the world to do it.”

She snorted. “Oh yes, I’m sure you enjoy touring cathedrals and museums.”

For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then he sighed. “Actually, I spent much of it on horseback.” He shot her an enigmatic glance. “Tell me, Katherine, do you ride?”

Chapter Six
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The same methods for seducing women

often work equally well for allaying the

suspicions of overprotective mamas—

flattery, gifts, and those little courtesies

ladies so love.

—Anonymous,
A Rake’s Rhetorick

The next afternoon, Katherine sat at the desk in the tiny study of their rented town house dressed in her best violet riding habit. She’d just finished writing this morning’s letters toCornwall. What an exercise in futility
that
was. The one to the butcher offering him a prize spring lamb from Merivale Manor’s new birthings to pay off their debt was offset by one to the tailor authorizing a new gown for her sprouting sister Bridget. The girl’s gowns had grown so indecently short that the rector had actually complained to the Merivale housekeeper, who also served as their nanny, governess, and nursemaid. Thank goodness for old family servants, or she and Mama could never have made this trip, which was
supposed
to end with her officially betrothed toSydneyand finally in possession of her fortune. Would that ever happen?

A glance at the clock made her sigh. Half an hour until she left to go riding with Alec instead of going to Sydney’s poetry reading as she should. Oh, what had possessed her to agree to that last night? Pure annoyance, that’s what.Sydneyhad behaved abominably to her at the ball supper. If he’d even once mentioned the reading to her while he sulked on the journey home, she would have bowed out of her agreement to ride with Alec.

But no, he’d been too angry at her for consorting with his schoolboy nemesis to say a word about when or if he’d pick her up. And Alec was no help at all, gleefully stokingSydney’s anger by flirting with Katherine.

Her cheeks warmed, and she cursed under her breath. A pox on that man for kissing her and throwing everything into a muddle. Hadn’t she learned
anything
from Papa’s naughty book? Clearly, she hadn’t learned enough yet to hold her own with the quick-witted earl. It would behoove her to remind herself of what he was.

Opening the bottom desk drawer, she drew Papa’s wicked chapbook from its hiding place. She read the cheap-looking pamphlet merely to gain knowledge about men, of course. How else could a young lady learn all the ways a rake tempted a woman to sin? As Alec had said last night, knowledge was the best defense.

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Glancing around to be sure she was alone—not that Mama would ever venture in here to do any work—she flipped open the book. Then blushed as one of the naughty pictures in the back met her gaze. The first time she’d seen the naked figures in contorted poses, she’d briefly thought them pictures of Greeksport. After all, the Greeks
had
performed their sports naked, and the captions—things like “A Wild Ride” and “The Sideward Thrust”—had sounded vaguely athletic. Then she’d stumbled across “The Wheelbarrow,” the very print she was looking at now. A man held a woman by her ankles as she held on to a wheel. It looked sportlike enough—as if he were pushing her along, perhaps in a race, with a big stick coming out from between his legs. But a closer look revealed it wasn’t a stick. And the couple clearly had no interest in athletics. She probably should have thrown the book away when she’d realized what the pictures were, but they’d been too fascinating to ignore. Especially when her knowledge of that area of life had been limited to what she’d gleaned from watching horses and sheep on the estate. Now she knew more—a
lot
more. But she wondered, why use such… well… odd positions for lovemaking? Some of them looked downright painful. Like the one where the woman put her ankles on a man’s shoulders— how
did
a woman get her legs up so high, anyway? Then there was this next one… but wait, it made more sense today. Perhaps a man would indeed want to put his tongue down
there
. Perhaps the woman would even enjoy it. Katherine had certainly enjoyed having Alec’s tongue in her own mouth last night; it had made her feel hot all over. Apparently men liked putting their tongues in certain places, and women liked having them put there. If she were to judge from these pictures, though, tongues weren’t the only things men liked to stick into women. But she wasn’t entirely convinced that the woman would like having that… that staff stuck into her.

Especially when it was as large as this one in the picture. She turned the book to the side and peered at it. Surely this was an exaggeration… like the woman’s breasts, which were big as cantaloupes and not at all like Katherine’s own decidedly modest ones.

But if the book wasn’t meant to be realistic, then why had Papa bought it in the first place? Or was it just another of his wicked curiosities, like the opera dancer Mama had accused him of toying with out of pure mischief?

Katherine winced, remembering that particular argument, after which she’d had to explain to her sisters what a
blowsy slut
was. Mama had never been very discreet, but after Grandfather died, any discretion she’d possessed had flown right out the window. Without the influence of her father, Mama felt free to be her natural self. Which unfortunately meant that no subject was too private to air before her children. Realizing she was still staring at the picture of the man with his tongue in a naughty place, Katherine turned the pages swiftly back to the text. At least the book wasn’t
all
wicked. Like this chapter on gifts, about how a man should soften a woman’s resistance with jewels and such. She read the line on flowers:
Costly hothouse blooms never fail to make a woman’s heart beat
faster, since women are primarily mercenary creatures
.
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With a snort, she slammed the book shut and shoved it back in the drawer. How like a man to think he must spend money to make a woman’s heart beat faster. But obviously Papa had slavishly followed that bit of advice, or she wouldn’t be in her present fix, having to marry as soon as possible to access her fortune so she could pay the family debts.

The sound of a carriage stopping outside made her jump. Goodness, Alec had come for her early. Now, where had she put her gloves while she was working?

Moments later, she was debating whether the purple-spotted riding gloves she’d bought in that unusual shop inBond Streetwere too odd to pair with her violet riding habit, or if she should go fetch sedate ones, when raised voices drifted up to her from the parlor.

Sydney. Lord have mercy.

Snatching up the gloves, she hurried down the stairs.

“What do you mean, Katherine’s going riding with Iversley?”Sydney’s voice sounded from below. “She was supposed to attend my poetry reading.”

Katherine couldn’t hear Mama’s response, but doubted it would mollify him. Lifting the overlong skirts of her riding habit, Katherine flew down the last few steps. She hastened into the cramped parlor just in time to hear Mama say that poetry was a humbug she wished her daughter would give up entirely. WhileSydneyturned apoplectic at such heresy, Katherine hastily interjected, “Good afternoon,Sydney. What are you doing here?”

He whirled around. “You know very well. The reading starts in an hour.”

Katherine took a steadying breath. “You said nothing about it when you broughtushome last night. I wasn’t even sure what time it began.”

Sydneywinced. “I… er… forgot to… um…”

“I assumed you’d changed your mind about having me accompany you.”

With a woeful expression,Sydneyturned to her mother. “Mrs. Merivale, might I speak to Katherine alone?”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you unchaperoned.” A scheming expression crossed Mama’s face.

“Especially when the two of you aren’t even
enceinte.”
Sydneyblanched at the very mention of pregnancy. “I should say not!”

Katherine barely choked back a laugh. “Mama means ‘engaged.’ ” PoorSydneyshould know by now never to listen to her mother’s torturedFrench.

“That’s what I said,” Mama protested.

“No, you said we were… oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter.” And Mama wouldn’t remember anyway.

“But please do giveusa moment.”

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Her mother sniffed. “Very well. But don’t forget that his lordship will be arriving shortly for your ride.”

“His lordship can go to perdition,”Sydneymuttered under his breath, as Mama flounced from the room. Katherine sighed.Sydney’s jealousy should make him more attentive, not throw him into a sulk. And what right did he have to sulk anyway? He was the one taking her for granted. She’d had enough of it.

“See here,”Sydneysaid, as soon as her mother was gone, “I don’t want you anywhere near Iversley.”

The high-handed statement sparked Katherine’s temper. “You should have thought of that last night when you left here without a word.”

He looked chagrined. “I’ll admit that was rude, but I didn’t expect—”

“That I would accept another man’s invitation? Or make other plans? Or assume from your behavior at supper that you were washing your hands of me?”

“What? Did that devil Iversley put such ideas in your head? I’ve always intended to marry you, Kit. You know that.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Dash it all, I know I behaved horridly to you last night, but I was put out by your flirting with Iversley.”

“I was
not
flirting—”

“I know you were upset with me, and rightly so.” He tugged nervously at his cravat. “I don’t even blame you for dancing with the man—I see now that you were striking back at me for not… well… showing you what you mean to me.” His sullen gaze met hers. “But I figured you’d be over your fit of temper by now.”

How dare he dismiss her legitimate concerns as mere feminine pique! “I was not having a fit of temper last night, but I certainly am now. And if you think I’ll go anywhere with you—”

A hard rap sounded on the front door. She lifted her head proudly. “That’s probably Lord Iversley, come to take me riding. So if you’ll excuse me…”

She started to brush past him, butSydneystepped into her path. “Please, Kit, don’t be cross with me. I can’t bear it.”

When she met his gaze, the hurt confusion on his face dissolved all her anger. The door opened in the hall, and her mother loudly welcomed the earl, but Katherine couldn’t leave her dear friend. “I’m not cross at you. I’m merely frustrated. And you know why.”

BOOK: In The Prince's Bed
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