Chapter Forty-Three

The Revelation

Jaclyn led her friend to her room and closed the door behind her.

“Tell me more about your guardian. His Grace is so tall and handsome, but his demeanor seems to hold dark secrets. Has he told you any of them?” Josette asked as she fussed with a porcelain figurine of a lady on the table and placed it with its mate.

“I’m not aware he has told me any. When we converse, it’s usually about mundane subjects. He’s a man onto himself in thought, word, and deed. Every once in a while, he does or says something that intrigues or scandalizes, and then he apologizes.”

Josette fingered a dog figurine on a table. “Hmm, has he mentioned the subject of suitors to you at all?”

“Too much. Radolf knows I’m not in favor of a hasty marriage. It is now a taboo subject.” Jaclyn frowned. “He sends mixed messages. You know that I’ve been fond of him for ages.”

“Yet you are allowed to address him as Radolf in private conversations? What is going on?”

“Those private conversations are just that—private between the both of us. Camille is aware of it and does not object. Most of the time, it’s just the three of us.”

“Tell me, Jaclyn, has he indicated a desire for a closer relationship with you?”

“Josette, it’s none of your business,” she defended. “At times, he only sees me as his ward to whom he has responsibilities and wants me off his hands. He doesn’t quite say it that way, but his intent is clear. At other times, he gazes at me with hungry eyes.”

“How hungry?” Josette asked.

“Ravenous,” Jaclyn uttered.

“Why don’t you encourage him further? He’s rich, famous, and handsome. Why not set out to entrap him?”

“Josette, you’re such a schemer. I don’t want to entrap anyone. I want to love someone who will return my affection. Enough about me. What do you want in your future?”

“At one time, I wanted to be an actress, but Papa had a fit. I got a lecture about a certain cousin who ruined her life when she ran away with the son of a preacher.”

“Did they not live happily-ever-after?” asked Jaclyn, who skipped toward her friend.

“No, he lost his job. My beautiful cousin couldn’t find work on the stage.” She sighed. “No one would tell me the final piece of the story except to shake their heads. The official words were, ‘It did not turn out well. The family ostracized them.’” She turned to Jaclyn. “Another cousin whispered to me that she died in childbirth, a sad end to an infatuation.”

“And you still desire to be an actress?” Jaclyn shook her head, and a barrette slipped from her hair. She reached for it and peered in the mirror. “I rather like my curls without it.”

“Dear Jaclyn, I am French. Actresses in Paris enjoy different treatment than here. Papa sent me to his sister’s house there, and the excitement of the balls and masterful young men turned my head. I don’t think I now want such a vocation, but my cousin, Pierre, introduced me to all his friends. I never lacked for a dance partner.”

“Did they make inappropriate advances?” Jaclyn asked, tingling all over.

“Not in particular, but they’d steal a kiss on a balcony, or in a corner, or whisper in my ear confidentially.”

“Intimately?” Jaclyn arched an eyebrow at the salacious statement of her friend. “How did it make you feel? I need to know.”

“Yes, it was a thrill, but Pierre obviously forbade anything further.”

Josette reached for her friend’s hand. “Has your guardian kissed you?”

“Yes.” She tossed her dark curls. “Most of the times, it was to show me what not to do, or tell me of the consequences if I went further.”

She pulled Josette down beside her on the settee and leaned back into its comfort. “But, oh, there was a time or two, when it was more than a kiss. The sensation rained over me from head to toe. I swear I would have done anything he asked, but then again, this game he and I play always has one of us in retreat. It’s a frustration to say the least.”

Her friend’s eyes grew larger. “Do be careful, Jaclyn. Before you know it, you’ll be naked in his arms, and he’ll make love to you with his firm male member.”

Shocked at her descriptive words, the words barely escaped, “Josette, have you…have you had a man do such a thing to you? Does it hurt?”

“No. Papa and Aunt Mimi keep strict surveillance over me. I don’t know if it hurts although I’ve overheard some of the female servants say that the first time is awful. After that, it can be pleasurable, but there’s a risk of his seed.”

Jaclyn placed both hands over her mouth to squelch any sound. “It doesn’t sound pleasant at all to me.”

“I do have an older cousin who likes to imbibe spirits, and her lips speak freely. She says it is as if you’ve entered heaven and never want to come back. As for prevention of pregnancy, the male wears a French Letter, and his seed lands inside the thin sheath. After the act, it is removed. She claims she’s done it many times.” Josette tilted her head toward Jaclyn. “Whichever one of us does it first, let’s promise to tell each other? Yes?”

“I don’t know if the words could leave my lips. I don’t want to be first.”

“There are things we don’t know about, Jaclyn. We should make a point to find out more from the female servant staff, but then they’d want to know why we ask. It will get back to our elders. We could be sent off to another convent.”

The door opened, and Sedona advised them they’d be late for high tea so they should hurry.

Rosy-cheeked Josette jumped off the settee first, with Jaclyn following. They settled their skirts and left the room to join the festivities.

Jaclyn stopped on the landing in sudden remembrance of Radolf’s tented kaftan and her semi-undress. She did like his wonderful kisses. Horrors, she could have gotten hurt and pregnant. What was a young lady to do? Dare she ask Camille about such things as sex?

Why didn’t the romance novels print such things? No wonder so many women were in a family way without benefit of marriage.

Jaclyn vowed she’d never allow a man—any man—to subject her to pain, pleasure, and the disgusting French Letter.