Read Online The Naked Prince by Sally Mackenzie - Free Book Online Page B

cut. Her valentine was insipid; before she’d seen Mrs. Butterwick’s card, she’d thought all valentines insipid.
    â€œMaria,” Lady Greyham said, “have done. You know Miss Atworthy is here only because Henrietta Helton took ill.”
    Lady Noughton frowned and might have argued, but she was interrupted by Lady Imogene waving her valentine in the air for the ladies’ reaction.
    Jo let the other women crowd around. The tone of their laughter told her clearly she would not appreciate Lady Imogene’s imagination.
    What was she going to write to complete her boring card? She couldn’t just wish Lord Kenderly well. This was a valentine, not a sympathy card. On the other hand, she certainly couldn’t mention the odd throbbing heat he provoked in her. She bit her lip. What should she write?
    She’d like to write something daring, though not as daring as what Mrs. Butterwick or Lady Imogene had written—or drawn.
    She was twenty-eight. As Papa had pointed out, she wasn’t getting any younger. She could use a little sin, a little pleasure, in her life. If she let this opportunity pass, she’d have only Mr. Windley at hand—dear God. Mr. Windley was penance, not pleasure.
    She glanced over at Lady Noughton’s card. The widow had written, Meet me at the baths at midnight.
    Could she ask Lord Kenderly to meet her somewhere secluded?
    No. She hadn’t the courage.
    â€œI still don’t have any ideas,” Mrs. Handley said. “I need some more inspiration.”
    â€œHow about some brandy? I often find a drop or two of spirits helps me think.” Lady Greyham pulled the decanter out of the cabinet. “Oh, bother, Hugh must have stolen the glasses.”
    â€œWe’ve teacups, don’t we?” Mrs. Petwell said.
    â€œVery true.” Lady Greyham passed the brandy around so everyone could fill her cup.
    Jo took a splash to be companionable. Dear Lord Kenderly, she wrote, Happy Valentine’s Day. She chewed on the end of her pen. What else?
    Her mind was a blank—well, no, it was filled with scandalous things she could never write.
    She heard laughter in the corridor. The men were here; her time was up. Her insipid card would have to do. The earl certainly couldn’t expect professions of love. They were barely acquainted . . . except she felt as if she knew him so well from his letters. Or she’d thought she’d known him when she’d thought him older and plainer.
    She signed the card quickly as the men came into the room.
    â€œDid you miss us, sweets?” Lord Greyham asked, giving Lady Greyham an enthusiastic kiss on the lips.
    â€œMmm, of course, but we spent our time well, didn’t we ladies?”
    â€œIndeed.” Lady Chutley smirked. “I think you’ll find our efforts most, ah, uplifting.”
    The ladies giggled; Jo took the opportunity to move toward the windows. She noticed Lord Kenderly was standing a little apart, frowning, his hands clasped behind his back; he looked about as happy to be there as she was.
    â€œAnd you’ll find ours inspiring as well,” Lord Benedict said. The men sniggered.
    â€œI’ll confess it looked bleak at first when Greyham gave us The Young Man’s Valentine Writer .” Mr. Dellingcourt laughed. “What a collection of trite and saccharine verses! I suppose they might appeal to very inexperienced young ladies, but I assure you there was nothing appropriate for this group.”
    â€œI should think not,” Mrs. Petwell said.
    â€œSo then we found Greyham’s copy of Ars Amatoria hidden behind A Few Theories on Crop Rotation .” Mr. Maiden grinned.
    Jo straightened. Could this be Papa’s rare Ovid?
    â€œIt wasn’t hidden,” Lord Greyham grumbled. “You found it, didn’t you?”
    â€œOnly because of its bright red cover.”
    It must be the Ovid. She had to slip out and get it. With luck the men had left