Page 33 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

The young woman started to cough, and he detected the sounds of a cold.

“Pardon me,” she said in a throaty voice when her coughing had subsided.

He offered her a cordial and, when she nodded, was relieved to have the innocuous activity to start the evening. Handing the beverage to her, he had an improved view of her. She had a nice form—the shoulders, collarbone, and bust all decidedly feminine without appearing too meek. He was not partial to small, willowy frames. Though her hands trembled a little when she took the drink, her posture and air hinted at maturity and resolution. And something oddly familiar.

He continued in a low and gentle voice, “Would you care for another glass?”

She shook her head.

He took a deeper breath. “Shall we begin, then?”

“Yes.”

From the armoire he retrieved a red satin kerchief. “I will attempt to explain all that I am to do as we proceed. If at any time you wish to desist, you may apply a safety word, and I will cease instantly.”

“A safety word? Is a simple protest not sufficient?”

“What may seem as a rebuff can be arbitrary and subject to interpretation. It is necessary to have a specific mechanism that is unambiguous to both parties.”

“Very well. And what shall this safety word be?”

Failing to remember what he once used, he recalled the name of his last dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. “Montreal.”

“Montreal?”

“You will not hesitate to speak it?”

“I think not.”

“Repeat it for me.”

“I assure you I am capable of uttering a simple word.”

“If you cannot speak it in idleness, how am I to be assured you will speak it when we are occupied?”

“Montreal. Montreal. Satisfied?”

He frowned. This was no submissive and unquestioning pupil before him.

“Again.”

Taken aback by his directive, she raised her brows.

“Practice makes perfect,” he supplied with deliberate condescension, to make the point that he was the teacher and she the student.

She pressed her lips together, but replied with exaggerated enunciation. “Mon-tre-al.”

His tactic worked, for perturbation had quickly replaced her nervousness.

“I will now apply this blindfold. The removal of sight will eliminate the most easy distractions and enhance your other senses.”

She hesitated but made no objection. He secured the kerchief over the eyes of her mask before stepping back to survey her.

“Charmante.”

She almost laughed. “You need not seduce me with false compliments, sir! For in such dim lighting, surely you can discern little. Why, my complexion may be marked by the pox, my eyes set too narrowly apart, and the bridge of my nose adorned with warts!”

“Have you had the pox?”