Free Pleasure For Pleasure by Eloisa James Page B

shaking. He rather liked that. She turned and darted away, and Thurman didn’t move. He could feel rage swelling in his chest the way it used to when the schoolmaster flogged him for not knowing his tables. It was all tangled together in his mind: Darlington was gone, the Convent was gone, what would he do at night? Without Darlington, people would think he was stupid. It was all the Sausage’s fault, because Darlington didn’t drop him until he had those thoughts of morality.
    That was her fault.
    The Sausage’s fault.

7
    From The Earl of Hellgate, Chapter the Fifth
    I fear that in telling the next episode of my life, I may endanger the reputation of the sweetest and most virtuous lady to have come to my attention. I beg of you not to attempt to discover her name, no matter the temptation. I shall simply call her my darling Hippolyta. If she reads my poor offering, I would say to her what lies buried in my heart:
    I have seen only you,
I have admired only you,
I desire only you.

    J osie turned away, rather blindly, and walked straight through the crowd, heedless of anyone who might see her face without its rigid smile. That was a horrible, disgusting swine of a man. Without warning, Mayne loomed before her.
    â€œHello there,” he said, grinning at her. Then his face changed in a flash. “What’s the matter, Josie?”
    She swallowed hard and before she knew what was happening, Mayne was leading her out onto a marble terracethat lay white and shining in the light of the torches placed at its edges. He walked her to the broad balustrade that lined the terrace, turned her around and then stood directly in front of her so that no one could see the tears snaking down her face. “What happened?” he demanded.
    The torches were throwing glinting lights onto Mayne’s tumble of black curls. His eyebrows were drawn into a perfectly straight scowl. “It was a horrid man,” Josie said, hiccupping ungracefully, although it didn’t matter because it was Mayne. “He said—He said—” But she couldn’t say what he said, because Mayne was so beautiful and it was all so humiliating.
    He had a large white handkerchief in his hand. “Steady on,” he said, patting her cheeks dry. She tried to smile at him but her mouth wobbled. She turned away and leaned over to look at the borders below. The bushes were all in shadow.
    â€œWho was it?” Mayne asked conversationally, but Josie heard the clash of steel in his voice.
    â€œIs that sweetbrier or southernwood?” she asked. “It smells enchanting.”
    â€œJosie.”
    She turned back and shook her head. “I don’t know. Some acquaintance of Darlington’s.” She took the handkerchief from him and wiped her eyes again. Mayne was looking thoughtful, like a man who was about to pummel half the male population of London.
    â€œWhat did he look like?”
    â€œI hardly noticed. The room is poorly lit, and he is nondescript, really. It’s not that important,” she said shakily. “I know what they think of me. I know—” Her eyes filled with tears again and she groped for the handkerchief, forgetting she had it. It fell to the ground, and without thinking she bent to pick it up. And stopped with a small oof as her corset almost sliced her in half.
    Mayne plucked it from the ground with an easy sweep.“What on earth?” he said, and then glanced about. “We’re far too public here.”
    â€œCould we possibly leave the ball altogether?” Josie said. “I—I am not having a pleasant evening.” But then she remembered his fiancée. “Yet Sylvie will wonder where you are.”
    Mayne’s whole face lit up when he smiled. “May I say how happy I am to hear you use her first name? And of course I shall take you away. Sylvie is, as I’m sure you recognized immediately, a singularly self-sufficient woman. She actually came