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Chapter Eight
The sounds of sweet feminine laughter filtered through the large oak door of Percy’s study, and he found himself smiling. It seemed that the last few days of shopping was coming to an end. He had paid some exorbitant bills to the modiste the duchess recommended and even offered her an astronomical bonus to have several of the dresses Freddie ordered ready in a few days’ time.
Several deliveries had been made just now, and a few of her lady friends from 48 Berkeley Square had called upon her. Their excitement for new frippery amazed him, considering he had also heard an earlier rousing discussion on the plight of orphan children and the more active and humane roles government should play in their care and education. These were educated ladies with keen insights into many political issues. He tried not to think that these ladies were also the very ones that discussed pleasure and pain to be on the same coin. They were a fascinating bunch.
Percy closed the business ledger and reached for the letter from his younger brother who was gallivanting about Europe.
Dear Percival,
Venice is delightful and I have met the most charming lady who is visiting with her uncle, the Viscount Mulford. I hope to stay a few more weeks abroad and then I shall return to England to manage your smaller estate in Lincolnshire. I am very keen for you to meet the charming Miss Mary Saunders, for I am convinced you will find her as amiable and an enchanting conversationalist as I do.
I visited the Bridge of Sighs and St Mark’s Square and all the usual sights. The architecture is divine, the food delicious and the art so very captivating. I really wish you could have travelled because I know you would appreciate all the beauties, artistic and female that I have seen. The only complaints I have about Venice are the smells, which really are hard to shut out.
Also how is dear Frederica? I hope she is getting along well in London, and she finds the season to be great fun. I was glad to hear in your last letter than she seems less morose and might be finally healing from losing her brother.
I shall see you both soon.
Your loving brother,
Henry.
Just another short note letting him know his younger brother, who was five and twenty lived. Henry had been travelling for more than a year, and they made it their habit to correspond frequently. Percy folded the letter and set it aside, knowing Freddie would want to read it. She and Henry got along famously, and at one point he had even thought them a lovely match. However, it had grown evident that they considered themselves as close as brother and sister.
With a frown, Percy wondered that he had never thought of himself as Freddie’s brother. He dropped back his head against the squab of the wingback chair and closed his eyes against the damnable memories that kept wanting to intrude. He should have left town and given himself a break away from her, just enough time to shore up his defenses, but an important vote had come up and he’d had to stay.
Percy had been taking cold baths and riding out to try and exhaust himself, but each night when he fell into sleep, he still dreamed of her. It actually seemed the more tired he was the better the dream. This morning he had lain atop of his sheets like a man driven mad, laughing his head off at the awareness.
A gold embossed invitation caught his attention. Plucking it from the pile, he saw that it was the yearly invitation to Aphrodite, a masquerade ball that that specialized in debauchery with some of the most beautiful and sensual women of London. What made it so special is that anyone from high society could receive a coveted invitation to partake in a night of wicked revelry. Percy had attended the last three years and had left the townhouse in the district of Soho Gardens well pleasured.
Flicking the thick paper open, he noted the date was next week. He wondered why the invitation had come so late, usually it gave two weeks’ notice or more. His gut grew heavy, and his heartbeat quickened. Perhaps this was what he needed. A night like this about town instead of being holed up in his townhouse, hungering after a little minx he should not be thinking about much less bloody touched.
A knock sounded on the door, and he bid entrance knowing it to be Freddie. She entered and his heart stuttered. A new gown, one simple but exquisite in its design and gold coloring flattered her figure. Sweet mercy, his aunt had been right. Freddie’s curves were lush and mouthwatering under the gowns she had previously worn. Her short curls had been artfully arranged and what looked like a clip dotted with pearls swept some of the curls to one side. A delicate thread of gold circled her tiny wrist.
Freddie strolled inside, holding a book to her chest. He frowned. Today was not Sunday, their book club day.
“Do you venture out to your club tonight? To White’s.”
He lowered his eyes to her bare toes. If his aunt should see Freddie dressed so, she would have a conniption, but Percy found he did not mind it. “No.”
She padded over, sitting in the sofa closest to him. This intimately close, the subtle but fragrant scent of her invaded his senses.
“Do you attend a ball tonight?”
“The unexpected rain has encouraged me to stay in.”
Her cheeks dimpled in a smile. “Truly astonishing, what will society think?”
Her eyes laughed so prettily at him, and he sighed. “Why are you asking me these questions, Sprite?”
She held up a book. “I know it is not our usual day, but I wondered if we might read together tonight.”
“Before you decide, should we talk about…the kiss?” she asked with a rosy flush on her cheeks.
The damn kiss. If anyone knew he lost hours of sleep over that moment in the carriage, he would be laughed at. Not even his most talented lover had ever caused him to lose a moment’s rest. Yet Freddie had done so with the artless passion and vibrancy of her responses. She was a passionate girl…no, she was a woman, and refusing to see her in that light was no measure of protection against the longing burgeoning to life for her.
It perplexed Percy. She was not the most beautiful lady he had ever seen. But Freddie was the only lady he had ever felt such a visceral attraction for. And the why of it was bloody confounding. She leaned forward and grabbed up a book on his desk. “Ah, to be Persephone.”
“You want to be stolen to the underworld by a dark god, hmm?”
