Jane stepped out of the basket of the balloon, wobbling a little as her feet made contact with the ground.
Everything she looked at seemed just a bit brighter, as though she was seeing everything through a Mr. Thomas Sharpe–visioned lens. She had never felt anything like what she had just felt before—not even a hint of it—and to experience it while up in the sky over London was quite possibly the most exhilarating, ludicrous thing she’d ever heard of. If Lavinia wrote it in a book nobody would believe it.
Then again, Lavinia couldn’t write precisely that in a book because she did not write those kinds of books—the kind where people did things that were normally not done, much less spoken or written about.
“How was it?”
Percy joined them as Mr. Sharpe—Thomas, for God’s sake, she’d experienced a shattering climax under his fingers—guided her to a small open area just outside where a row of booths offered a variety of experiences—bearded ladies, strong men, and at least two mesmerists. There was one empty chair, and she sat abruptly, while Percy and Thomas flanked her on either side.
“It was—” she began, not certain how to say it. Or honestly how to speak more than a few words at the moment.
“It was wonderful. Wasn’t it?” he asked, shooting her a sly grin. Taunting her.
Of course it was the best possible way to snap her out of her post-bliss reverie, which he had to have known, but it was also so much him to sneakily refer to something between them that nobody could know about.
Like a secret language only they knew. But not, she assured herself sternly, the language of love.
“It was wonderful. Though far too short,” she added, sending him a pointed glance.
There. That was satisfying. As was—damn it, at this rate she’d never think of anything else.
But she could be forgiven for losing herself in it for just a moment, couldn’t she? It was, after all, the first time.
“I believe that Lady Jane will find that such experiences only seem short because of how much one is enjoying them,” Thomas replied, his lips curled in a smirk.
She had thrown down the gauntlet, and he was picking it up and tossing it in the air.
“I enjoyed having two ales while you were up there floating amongst the clouds, so perhaps you have a point there,” Percy said.
“You drink quickly,” Jane retorted.
“I do! And I find I am parched yet again,” Percy replied with a winsome smile. The smile that always made Jane’s mother, the Countess of Scudamore, melt. Jane had to admit it had nearly the same effect on her. “Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the collection of food vendors.
“I believe we shall. Lady Jane is always open to new experiences. Aren’t you, my lady?” Thomas asked, holding his hand out to help her rise out of her chair.
She met his gaze as she stood. “New experiences can be rewarding. But it is crucial that everyone is allowed to share the experience.” She lifted one eyebrow, then dragged her gaze down his form and back up again. Feeling incredibly, remarkably powerful and brave to taunt the lion in his lair, so to speak.
His eyes had widened, and he appeared—for just a moment—to have lost the power of speech. Bravo, Jane, she cheered.
“If there is an opportunity,” he began.
“Could you two stop jabbering?” Percy asked, glancing between them. “It sounds suspiciously like flirting, but I know you’re not doing that.” He accompanied his words with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.
“Of course, friend,” Thomas said smoothly. “Your sister and I were just examining the ramifications of trying new things.”
“Whatever.” Percy spoke in an exasperated tone. “I came here to find pleasure, not to listen to you two discuss whatever it is you’re discussing.”
“That is why I came also,” Jane said, giving Thomas a significant look. Holding her breath at just how bold she was being.
Was this actually Lady Jane the Naive? The one speaking in coded language to the man she might almost say was her lover, if there was love involved?
There is not love involved, she remarked sternly to herself. Though she did like him a lot, even when he was teasing her.
“Well, then, the ale is waiting,” Percy replied, marching across to the vendors, Jane and Thomas trailing behind.
Had he just brought Lady Jane to climax while hovering above London in a hot air balloon?
Apparently he did still engage in some risky behavior—what if someone had seen? What if Percy had figured out that something more than air travel was happening while he was watching from below?
But it was entirely worth it. Her gasps, her body responding to his touch, her playful teasing after—each one of the actions alone would have been enough to encourage him. But put all together, they were intoxicating. He couldn’t wait to do it again.
And, judging by her reaction, she likely couldn’t either.
The trick would be to figure out what to do that would satisfy her desire and his need to maintain some semblance of distance. Although that concept was laughable, given what he’d just done.
But it was just sex. Just pleasure shared with one another.
Keep telling yourself that, Sharpe, a voice said inside his head.
It doesn’t matter what I feel about it, another voice retorted. Because she can never fall in love with me, nor can she know how I feel about her. That my feelings might be starting to go beyond a mutual exchange of favors to something more.
That was why it was good to spar with her—to keep her at a distance, albeit a playful distance. So she would not take any of this seriously.
“Ale for you, Sharpe?” Percy asked. “And—Jane, do you want lemonade? Or an ice?”
“Ale,” Jane replied firmly.
Percy looked as though he wished to argue with her, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Thomas knew firsthand the lady would not be thwarted when it came to her enjoyment of things. And people.
“Three ales, please,” Percy said.
They took their beverages to sit in a communal area, mismatched wooden tables and chairs providing seating for the various vendors’ customers.
The sun was now straight overhead, and was warmer than Thomas was accustomed to—while he did go outside during the daytime, it wasn’t a habit. It felt strangely pleasant, as though the sun was sinking into his bones and invigorating him.
Or perhaps it was just her.
“We’ll be sending the invitations to our event out soon,” Jane said, taking a swallow of her beer. It left a foam mustache behind, and Thomas tried not to laugh.
But failed.
“You’ve—you’ve got something there,” he said, gesturing to her face.
She scowled as she took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped it away. “Better?” she asked as she held herself still. Even now, even after knowing her for as long as he had, he was still struck by her appearance. She looked as though she could have stepped out of a Renaissance painting, the dramatic blue of her eyes contrasting with her pale, silvery hair.
Beautiful. “Yes, you’ve got it,” Thomas replied.
“We’ve compiled a list of possible ladies for you,” she continued. “And I’ve added some that are probably not on your list, but are too often left out of such events.” She spoke fiercely, clearly championing those young women not fortunate enough to be the most desired at a gathering.
Unlike her.
“I’m going to invite some of my economic acquaintances as well.” Percy shrugged, as though it wasn’t a shocking thing to mingle actual working people with an aristocratic group. Though he was a working person and an aristocrat, albeit an illegitimate one. So it made a certain amount of sense.
“The temerity,” Jane said, speaking in a mocking tone. “To think that young people of any class might want to come together to enjoy simple entertainment.”
“You are quite a radical thinker, Lady Jane.” Thomas raised his glass to her before taking a deep swallow.
Her expression lit up, and he wondered what he’d accidentally said.
“I was thinking about that,” she said excitedly. “I mentioned it to Lavinia, in fact, just the other day.”
“Thinking about what?”
“About working.” She spread her hands out to indicate all three of them. “Percy works.”
“I have to,” he muttered.
“But you like it,” she retorted. “You can’t deny that.”
Percy nodded.
“And I am thinking about trying to find an occupation myself. Something that will be useful to myself and others.” Her expression turned rueful. “It is not as though standing around being decorative is precisely work.”
“You mean what I do?” Thomas asked, feeling oddly defensive.
“You are doing it for a good cause.” She glanced away from him, up toward where the hot air balloon was taking another group of adventurers. “I want to do something that would be for a good cause also. Not a cause where I end up supporting a husband in his work either.” She straightened in resolve. “I’ve seen what that gets you, and it is not satisfactory. To me, at least.”
“Be careful, Jane,” Percy warned as he finished his ale, “if anyone hears you they’ll suspect you’re trying to foment a revolution.”
She grimaced. “If wanting to do something useful is revolutionary, then yes, I am a revolutionary.” She raised an eyebrow. “Even though that is the last thing anyone would say about me. Dutiful, polite, quiet, agreeable . . .” she began, sounding as though she was condemning herself with her words.
“Adventurous, spirited, and stubborn,” Thomas rejoined.
“Not to mention bossy,” Percy added.
She glanced between them, a clear expression of surprise on her face. “Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely.”
“Yes.”
Thomas and Percy spoke in unison.
“Well!” she exclaimed. “That is excellent to hear.”
“It shouldn’t be a surprise to you,” Percy said. “A nonrevolutionary person would not have rejected her mother’s plans, instead shockingly setting up her own establishment with her scandalously born brother.”
“Nor would she want to go up in a hot air balloon. Or visit a dance hall to see a traveling circus.” Thomas finished his glass, then rose. “Can I get us another round?”
“Oh, let me,” she said, standing also.
He opened his mouth to tell her he could damn well afford to get them a few ales when she spoke again. “I have never had the opportunity to purchase ales at a fair. Let me add to my experiences.” Her cheeks flushed as she met his gaze, and he knew she was recalling the other experiences she’d added recently.
He wanted to give her so many more. Even though that was the thing he could least afford.
“I’ll help you,” Percy said as Thomas sat back down. Keenly aware that this was a temporary respite from what was certain to be the unsatisfactory trajectory of his life—bartering his appearance and his standing in Society for the knowledge his family would survive.
Something he was willing to do, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
There were things, however, in his immediate future that he did like. Very much.
“Percy,” Jane said as they walked toward the ale seller’s stand, “do you really think I am all those things?”
“You’re definitely bossy,” he replied in a teasing tone. He put his hand on her arm to stop her walking. “But yes,” he continued in a softer voice, “I do. I know that the past few years have been difficult, and perhaps you needed time to decide things for yourself. But you do seem different. Even though I will still be a protective brother.”
“I promised I wouldn’t fall in love with him,” she reminded him, knowing she might be lying to both of them now, “and I just need you to trust that I won’t do anything that will put myself in danger.” That she knew was not a lie—she was apparently adventurous, but she was not foolhardy. She would never do something she thought might be risky.
Which meant she should try very hard not to fall in love with him—she knew there could be no happy ending, despite how Lavinia might write it. This was reality, not fiction. He needed to marry to save his family, and she needed . . . not to marry him so she could save herself. Not that he would be the problem, per se; just that she didn’t think she could trust that she would keep herself independent—“bossy,” according to her brother—if she was dependent on a husband.
He released her arm, and they continued to walk as she thought.
“Percy,” she began abruptly as they reached the stall, “what do you think happiness looks like?”
He signaled to the server for two ales, then turned to look at her. His handsome face was set in a serious expression. “Do you think I have any idea?” He glanced away from her, a whirl of emotions playing across his face—longing, regret, and a tiny bit of hope. “I thought when I was younger that if I just made myself pleasant to everyone, and tried not to cause any trouble that eventually I would be happy. Mostly because nobody would be actively cruel.” He met her gaze again. “Your mother made certain of that.”
“You do have a champion there,” Jane agreed.
“But then I realized that the lack of cruelty and of sadness didn’t necessarily mean a person was happy. Happiness might be something a person has to hunt down and capture for themselves.”
“No matter what the cost?” she said gently.
The truth shone in his eyes as he nodded slowly. “Yes. No matter what the cost.”
His hand rested on the bar, and she put hers on top of his, squeezing it in sympathy. “So does that mean I have your permission to hunt my happiness down?” It was an involuntary response to glance over toward Thomas, who had tilted his face up to the sun, his eyes closed. Looking like a resplendent Greek god.
His eyes followed her gaze as he took a deep breath. “I suppose it would be hypocritical to deny you what I hope to find for myself. No matter how unsuitable both of our choices are.” Now his voice held a lighter tone, which she was gratified to hear—a somber Percy was not something she was accustomed to, nor did she like it.
“Which means you are inviting Daffy to our event?”
He exhaled. “Yes. I suppose it does.”
She shared a smile with him before he spoke again. “But all this,” he said, gesturing between them, “still does not mean you should go and fall in love with him. You know what he is honor bound to do, even though that course of action wasn’t for you.”
“If I had to choose between marrying someone I didn’t love and jeopardizing my family? I hope I’d make the same choice.”
And she did. His course of action wasn’t necessarily honorable—women had been marrying men to keep themselves in food and clothing for centuries, after all—it wasn’t viewed as a sacrifice when they did it, just a necessity of life—but he did have the choice, given that he was a man and could presumably choose any kind of wife he wanted.
But it did matter that he was making the choice to sacrifice his future happiness to ensure his family’s. Which meant . . . if they could share happiness together for a short time, wasn’t that better than no happiness at all?
Which meant she should ensure he get some pleasure—some happiness—out of their arrangement as well. She presumed it was somewhat pleasurable to escort her to various places, take her up in hot air balloons and . . . well.
But that wasn’t enough; she wanted to give him the same kind of intense feeling he had given her in that hot air balloon. When he had kissed her in the carriage, truly kissed her, so she felt tingles throughout her whole body and wanted more.
She wanted more. With him.
And there was nothing preventing her from getting it.
Except the requirement that they parted from one another no more hurt than before they had met. Which meant no love. No feeling beyond a warm kindness.
Just a friendship that was far more than friendship, and shared experiences that would teach both of them.