He kept walking toward the door. His hand closed around the crystal knob, started to turn it.... “Jack!” She moved fast—incredibly fast—and slammed her palm against the heavy oak. The wood groaned under the impact—splintered just enough to poke the tender flesh inside her hand.
He didn’t look at her, didn’t speak, but they both knew he wasn’t getting out of that room until she allowed it. He was no match for her physically. Emotionally, however, was a different story. When he finally turned his head, his eyes were like glistening pools of darkness that cast a soothing spell over her, tugging her deeper and deeper into their depths until she’d do whatever he asked.
The bounder.
Mila shook her head, clearing the fog Jack had created. He’d almost had her—almost made her open the door. Jack had a talent for getting his way.
“Not fair,” she said from between clenched teeth.
“No less than you using your strength against me. Open the door.”
“No.”
He drew his shoulders back, anger tightening his features. “Mila, open the damn door. I’ve had enough of your sulking and pouting. Sober up and I’ll take you for an ice. We can do whatever you want.”
She stared at him. He thought she was pouting? And did he truly believe a bloody ice would fix it? “You really are stupid, aren’t you?”
Jack’s brows lowered. “What the devil is wrong wit—”
Mila didn’t think, she just wanted to shut him up. She grabbed him by the shirt and lifted herself up on her toes.
And then she kissed Jack Dandy. And it was wonderful.
Chapter Four
Three weeks earlier...
“I need you to explain something,” Mila announced as they left the little theater. They had just seen a production of An Ideal Husband by Oscar Wilde.
Jack buttoned up his long, black frock coat. “All right.”
“Why didn’t the wife just tell her husband she’d gone to visit his friend? Why was it such a terrible thing?”
“Because he was a single gentleman and she called upon him at night without a companion.”
She shook her head. “That still makes no sense.”
“Ladies aren’t supposed to call on gentlemen at their homes, and certainly not without a chaperone.”
“Can a gentlemen call on a lady without a chaperone?”
“Yes, but he shouldn’t if he really likes her. People might think ill of her.”
Mila kicked at a pebble with the toe of her shoe. “That’s stupid.”
Jack laughed. “It is.” He shrugged. “But, that’s how it is.”
“But why?” She knew she asked a lot of questions, and Jack had been very good about answering them, but the world was just so bloody confusing. Sometimes she didn’t think she’d ever understand.
“Because a lady’s virtue is her greatest possession, apparently. And a gentleman might lose control of himself and take advantage of her.”
Virtue. That was pureness. It was a synonym for virginity, as well. “Do men usually lose control of themselves?”
He opened the door to his steam carriage for her, so that she might climb in. “I’d like to think that they do not, no.”
She waited until he’d walked around and climbed in the other side. “You have ladies visit you.”
Jack paused, and she knew he was trying to think of a way to lie to her. He did that sometimes. “That’s different.” That was what he always said when he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Do you take advantage of your ladies?”
He made a strangled sound as he ignited the engine. “No.”
“What do you do with them?”
“That’s really none of your business, poppet. Not something you need to know about.”
“Do you have intercourse with them?” She’d read about intercourse in a book she’d found underneath the sofa.
His head turned, and he looked at her with an expression of...surprise? Horror? Bloody hell, she couldn’t tell! “How do you know about that?”
If she told him, he’d take the book away. “That’s really none of your business.”
“It is so my business!” Jack’s eyes were wide and black in the dim light.
Something in his tone made her fold her arms over her chest and glare out the window. “I don’t like how there seems to be separate rules for girls and boys. It’s not fair.”
Jack steered the carriage out into traffic. An old-fashioned carriage pulled by four automaton horses, their brass gleaming, raced past them. “No, it’s not. But it’s the way of the upper class.”
“Then, I don’t want to be part of the upper class.”
“I don’t think you’ll have much choice. That’s the sphere into which His Grace will introduce you.”
“I don’t understand why I can’t stay with you.”
“Because I’m exactly the sort of fellow a girl like you should avoid. Someday you’ll see that.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at him. “But you said you don’t take advantage of those girls.”
He kept his gaze on the road. A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m a good man, poppet.”
“But you’re the best person I know. I love you.”
The carriage swerved. Jack yanked on the steering mechanism to correct it again. “You don’t know what love is.” He didn’t say it meanly, but she resented it all the same. She couldn’t argue, though. Maybe she didn’t know what love was. But Emily had told her that love was when you cared about someone very much, and she did care about Jack. He was her whole world. The idea of being without him scared her.
“Do you know what love is?” she asked.
He shook his head. “And I don’t want to. I’ve seen what love does to people.”
“What?”
Jack sneered—it was an awful expression on his lovely face. “It makes them weak. Makes it easy for other people to hurt them, use them and toss them aside.”
“Did that happen to someone you know?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
