not going to the blue salon.
She was not going to meet Mr. Elijah Decker.
Not in half an hour.
Not ever.
No, indeed. She wanted to be wicked, but not with a man like him. In truth, her list had not been drafted completely or with attention to what she was writing down. Compelled by yet another dinner during which she watched the nauseatingly in-love couples around her and had consumed far too many glasses of claret, she had begun her silly catalog before bed one night.
Upon a wine-soaked whim, it was true.
But even a novice like Jo could see that there were gentlemen with whom one could safely dally, and then there was Mr. Elijah Decker. The vexing, maddeningly handsome man was in a class all his own.
“Have you tired of the dancing and the fawning and the nonsense yet?” her sister, Lady Alexandra Marlow, asked abruptly at Jo’s side, barely stifling a yawn.
Alexandra was a science-minded lady. She detested balls. But she and her husband, Lord Harry Marlow, had agreed to escort Jo to her friend Callie’s ball this evening. Jo did not particularly enjoy balls either, but she would not have missed Callie’s first ball as the Countess of Sinclair for anything.
“The ball is scarcely underway,” she told Alexandra, frowning. “You cannot mean to flee already?”
“My calculations are awaiting me,” Alexandra said. “I am on the cusp of some very important findings concerning rainbands, and my book will not write itself.”
Her sister was beloved to Jo, but she would never entirely understand Alexandra’s love of the weather. “This is Callie’s first ball, and I promised her I would remain until the very end, Alexandra.”
Alexandra’s nose crinkled in distaste. “I was hoping I could disabuse you of your notion of loyalty, admirable though it is. Good heavens, Jo, neither of us have ever found this sort of spectacle entertaining.”
No, Jo had not.
At least, not until a devilishly handsome rake had swept her into a waltz and arranged an assignation. Not that she wanted to meet Mr. Decker, she reminded herself. He was untrustworthy, and entirely too aware of his own masculine beauty. Callie admitted his reputation was dreadful and had warned her to keep her distance on numerous occasions. He was the sort of gentleman one could admire from afar, rather like a lion in a menagerie. She would never dare step inside his cage, trust herself to be alone with him.
At his mercy.
No.
And yet, some part of her remained curious. Some part of her wanted to accept that invitation to the blue salon. To allow him to prove he could kiss her breathless. He was handsome. Tempting.
He was everything she should avoid.
And he was everything she wanted. Jo could admit the horrible truth to herself, if no one else. Mr. Decker intrigued her as no other man ever had.
“Jo?” her sister prodded. “Are you sotted?”
That would be the only proper excuse for the emotions coursing through her. But, alas, Jo had only partaken of the lemonade. “Of course not. I have scarcely had a drop to drink this evening.”
Or a bite to eat. Mayhap that was the need, deep within. Hunger, of the ordinary variety and not the carnal.
Mayhap the odd sense of fluttery butterfly wings in her belly had nothing whatsoever to do with Mr. Decker’s invitation to sin.
Oh, who was she trying to fool? It had everything to do with him. He had planted them there, with his hands upon her and the delicious way he had guided her through the waltz earlier. She had been giddy, in awe of him, longing for…
More.
Whatever that entailed. She was certain a man like Mr. Elijah Decker would have no problem with introducing her to it, whatever it was, whatever it meant.
“You seem distracted,” Alexandra observed, her eyes narrowing as she searched Jo’s face.
“I was looking for Callie,” she lied. “Have you seen her? This crush is so magnificent, I only had the chance to speak with her once.”
“Are you certain I cannot persuade you to see reason, dearest sister?” Alexandra asked, hope tingeing her voice.
“I am not ready to go yet.”
How long had it been since he had told her to meet him in the blue salon? Had it been half an hour ago? What if he was waiting for her there, now?
Did she care?
No.
Yes, whispered a wicked voice inside her.
Jo banished the voice. Banished, too, the urge to do his bidding. What would it garner her, after all, save a ruined reputation? Or worse, a broken heart?
“You two look