Page 4 of Dallying with the Diamond

“You are fortunate that head groom did not inform your father.”

“My father’s servants and I have much in common, our mutual hate of His Grace being first and foremost among them.”

“And had that poor boy got you with child?”

“There are certain advantages to one’s personal maid being a former midwife. When it comes to ways to prevent becomingenceintethere is no one who knows more than Esme.”

“Your maid is a treasure. If she weren’t so loyal to you, I would steal her away.”

Honoria laughed. “You have no idea. Esme’s knowledge of the various suitors father has thrown at me has enabled me to narrow my choice down to the least objectionable of the lot. And I still have questions about hm.”

“You had better find your answers soon. Rumor has it you and the Duke of Bitworth are all but engaged.”

A door slammed on the other side of their bookcase fortress. The murmur of voices and the sound of footsteps descending into the main floor of the shop followed.

“Yes, well my supposed betrothal will come to naught if anyone discovers I have visited Lord Whitcombe’s den of literary iniquity twice in the space of a few days. Help me decide on these last books.”

“Why precisely are we here today? I thought the journal Whitcombe’s clerk sold you had your full attention.” Julia dragged a few of the bound volumes closer.

“The journal is incomplete. I had hoped to persuade his lordship to sell me the remaining pages.”

“And?”

“He swears he doesn’t have any more of the journal. But there is something havey-cavey about the entire thing.”

“If it contains what you say it contains, I can well imagine. Some poor soul is likely in desperate straits trying to recover such an intimate record.”

“I’m counting on it,” Honoria murmured. She placed another book on the discard stack. She’d not read anything like the piece of a journal she’d purchased a few days ago. The images evoked by the writer’s descriptions fueled dreams more evocative and sensual than any she’d ever known.

Julia opened a small, fat, red leatherbound volume and gasped. She slammed the book closed and then slowly opened it as if something within might jump out and bite her. She leaned in close to Honoria and opened the book to one of the first pages. She tapped the drawing on the page with her fingernail. “Are there really men made like…that?” she whispered.

Honoria peered at the picture. “You were married for five years, Julia. You tell me.”

Julia’s veil floated out on an indignant huff of air. “I never actually looked at it…him.”

“Good Lord.” Honoria shook her head. “We must find you a lover. Soon.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Julia glanced at the drawing one more time and closed the book, resting her hand on it as if to prevent the appendage in question from escaping the confines of the leather book cover.

Honoria took a deep breath. “Therearemen made like that. Unfortunately, amongst thetonthey are scarce as coins in Prinny’s purse. Worse, of the dozen or so suitors my father deemed worthy to court me there is not a bull in the entire stable.”

“A bull?”

Honoria pushed her friend’s hand aside and opened the book to the explicit drawing. She ran her finger around the detailed depiction of the man’s crotch. “Not a single one is made like this, not even close.”

“Honoria! Do you mean to tell me you have seen…you have actually looked at—”

“Of course not. Esme made—”

“Esme!” Julia shrieked. Honoria clapped her hand over her friend’s mouth. The last thing they needed was for their names to be bandied about the upper floors of Forbidden Pleasures in the middle of the day.

“Do be quiet. Esme made inquiries of the gentlemen’s valets. She can be quite persuasive when she puts her mind to it.”

“Why on earth would you have her inquire about such a thing?”

A knock at the door she knew led to Lord Whitcombe’s office gave Honoria pause. She stood and crept to the gap that led past the office to the back stairs. Men’s voices were raised in anger. She went back to the table and began to gather the books she had chosen.

“For the same reason I read and collect these books. If I am to play broodmare to some fumbling, ill-equipped oaf for the next thirty years I at least want some portion of him to have achanceat pleasuring me.”