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She couldn’t be serious. He swallowed the remaining liquid in his glass while she stayed silent.
He couldn’t help but swallow the bait. “Why?”
She shrugged, her sleeves slipping further down her smooth, shapely shoulders. “I’m curious. I’m not sure what the fuss is about. I understand that there must be some pleasure in it, but there are quite a few risks are there not? There’s disease and illegitimate children, and I know you’ve had quite a few dance partners, but is it really worth the potential consequences?”
If he had any liquid in his mouth he would’ve spit it out. Yes to the risk—he understood that better than anyone, but to the rest? She had to be joking. Yet those big blue eyes were wide and guileless and aimed right at him, begging for an explanation. He was in trouble. A brief image of Judah Nunes’ fist slamming into his jaw flashed in his mind.
No, the man wasn’t like that. He’d just attempt to ruin him financially; that was actually a possibility because no matter how much money his family had, he’d bet on the cunning of both the man on the stairs, and the blonde in the library.
“I’d say, if done correctly, it can be very pleasurable. There are also ways to prevent disease and pregnancy. Condoms, for one.”
Good answer, Jay. Focus on imparting important, yet impersonal information. Really, everyone should know about protection. He was doing her a favor.
“What are condoms?” Her eyebrows rose.
“A protective coating for the male anatomy, usually made of animal skin. My father’s friend Charles made some recent improvements—rubber, like in shoes, made with a new process called ‘vulcanization.’ He’s looking for a patent. I have some prototypes.”
Why did he just tell her that?
“A patent? An improvement on a device which will prevent both pregnancy and disease, but permit people to do things which are enjoyable?” She wrinkled her nose.
“You’re skeptical.” Understandable, as rubber could be so unreliable. But he’d been promised the new version was safe and consistent at all temperatures.
She cocked her head. “Of the device, no. I’d love to invest. Whatever else is done, that’s another story.”
His eyebrow shot up. Whatever else is done? Did she not know?
“Has anyone explained what’s involved?” Tarnation. He should be the one to become a mute.
This conversation was madness. And yet, the way she spoke about it was so amusing and intriguing. Also, she wanted to invest. Typical that little-miss-do-the-books-for-fun’s mind would go there. How tragic. Though, Mr. Goodyear would appreciate some Nunes funding.
Ursula waved a hand at him and paced towards the far side of the room.
“My mother explained what goes where, warned me of the consequences, and told me not to engage in that conduct until I’m married. She said I didn’t need to try anything beforehand as uneducated people could accomplish the task just
as well as educated.”
He resisted slapping his hand over his forehead. Possibly the worst advice ever spoken. Though, based on those expectations, she’d probably be perfectly satisfied with Hugo. Why was the idea so depressing?
“You don’t agree?” She had moved back towards him.
He leaned against a rail. She matched his posture, right next to him. Her position wasn’t provocative in any way, but for some ridiculous reason that made her more alluring. Perhaps it was the swath of skin so close again—the scent of lavender and some sweet, tart fruit, like cherries tickling his nose... How could he possibly discuss this with her?
He furrowed his brow. He couldn’t lie, not when she gave him that curious expression, the one that was so open and artless, as if she had no agenda but to gain knowledge. Dangerous. To him and to herself.
“Any man can be mildly satisfied. Women though, that takes experience and skill.”
“From both sides?” She’d screwed her lips to the side.
Trouble, terrible trouble. “Perhaps, at least from the male. There are also activities that feel very good, for both sides, that will not get one pregnant.”
“What did you do with Carolina?”
This had to be a nightmare. He pinched himself. Not happening, could not be happening.
“That’s an impolite question,” he managed to stammer.
“But an interesting one.” She smiled at him, a genuine smile at her own joke, her first real smile of the evening.
