Proof by Seduction (Carhart #1)

“Surely your brother, your father…Either seems a more appropriate choice than I would be.”


Gareth’s sister shook her head. “Madame—I mean, Mrs. Keeble, it’s a woman’s problem.” She wrung her hands around the tiny reticule in her hands. “I can’t talk to my brother about it. You see, I have no mother. I am to be married in a few months, at the end of the Season. And I just had this talk with—well, with my aunt Edmonton.”

“That talk?”

“Yes, Mrs. Keeble. That talk.”

Jenny shut her eyes. “I really must tell you. It’s Miss Keeble.”

Miss Edmonton grimaced. “Really? Drat. I was hoping the part about your being a widow was true. So you don’t know what happens on the night of—”

“Actually,” Jenny interrupted, “I do. And that is precisely why you should find somebody else to talk with. It’s not proper for you to talk with me.”

A bright blush splotched Miss Edmonton’s cheeks. She lifted a dainty hand to cover her mouth. Jenny waited for the woman to turn away in a swish of starched skirts.

But what the lady said instead was: “Excellent. I need improper. Will you answer my questions?”

Jenny thought about what Gareth would say if he found his sister in her rooms, asking improper questions. He’d be furious. And she could hardly blame him. A gently bred young lady should never spend time alone with a woman like her. Voices from her past surrounded her, mocking. That Jenny Keeble, they whispered. You never can trust her.

Jenny was weary of reacting to those memories. Whatever she achieved for herself in this life, those harsh words would never help. She touched the pouch at her waistband, briefly. Her three pounds had blossomed into sixteen and change with the sale of the dress. She had not yet chosen whether it was three days or three months she had left. If Gareth found out, his reaction would make her decision simple indeed.

“That depends,” Jenny said. “Will you take tea with me?”

Ten minutes later, they sat ensconced around Jenny’s kitchen table. Miss Edmonton watched solemnly as Jenny poured the tea into cups. Then the lady picked up her tea and took a delicate sip. “I don’t even know where to start. It’s too horrifying to even speak of.”

“Nonsense,” said Jenny. “Let’s start with the basics. What did your aunt tell you?”

Miss Edmonton blushed again. “My aunt said that my husband will come into my room and pull my skirt up. And then he’ll put himself inside of me. She said it hurts. She suggested I hold my tongue and pretend I am somewhere else until he is done.”

Jenny stared at her. “Yes. I should think it would hurt if you did it that way. Good heavens.”

“Whatever do you mean? Are there less painful ways to do it?”

“Suppose you are on the second floor of a house. How would you rather descend? By leaping over a railing? Or by walking down a staircase?”

Miss Edmonton looked at her. “The staircase. Are you trying to say my husband won’t have to put himself inside?”

Jenny blushed. “That part’s necessary. But if he does it slowly, and if he cares about whether you’re ready for it, it won’t hurt after the first time. And maybe not even then.”

Jenny could hear voices and footsteps from the street. Even back here, in the room farthest from the street, a draft filtered through. She’d left her front door ajar, and a good thing, too. Both she and Miss Edmonton could use the breeze.

There was a light sheen of sweat on the other woman’s forehead, one that could not be absorbed by any quantity of delicate rice powder. “But—that thing he puts in me—is it big?”

“If you’re lucky,” Jenny promised.

“And he’ll make me do it every night? Sometimes more than once?”

Jenny tried not to think of Miss Edmonton’s older brother. “If you’re lucky.”

“And he’ll want me to do all sorts of wicked things with my mouth?”

If you’re lucky, he’ll do them back.

Jenny squeezed her eyes shut. “Miss Edmonton,” she said, “these things are all so individual. They will depend on your husband and on your own predilections. Almost anything your husband wants you to do can be enjoyable, if you like and respect him. You just have to let yourself relax. If he’s kind to you, and if you are kind to him, you’ll find that most marital relations are quite enjoyable.”

There was a long pause. Jenny wondered what the other woman could possibly be thinking.

“Is it true,” Miss Edmonton finally said in a whisper, “that if I don’t do as he says, he’ll beat me?”

“No,” said a dark, raspy voice. “Because if he does, you’ll tell me straight away, and I’ll kill him.”

Miss Edmonton gave a little shriek, and Jenny opened her eyes. Gareth stood back, shrouded in the shadows cast by the short hall between her two rooms. When he stepped toward them, Jenny saw a grimace on his face. She wanted to shut her eyes again, to obliterate that fierce expression from her mind. Could she have done anything worse than tell his virgin sister about the sexual act?