Page 13 of Only Earl in the World (Taming of the Dukes)

It wasn’t just the dress, however, that was making her breathless.

It was the lethally charismatic earl who sat to her right, his presence a ridiculous contradiction of being both soothing and unsettling.

Her senses veered between comfort and alarm—comfort that he was a steady, dependable force in this whole farce and alarm that she was so grievously, stupidly attracted to him.

Briar couldn’t remember being so aware of every nerve in her body, so much so that the occasional shiver quaked through her frame. She was certain he could feel it, as he’d inquired several times if she was cold, especially when the truth was, she was immolating from the inside.

Had she ever truly realized how handsome the earl was?

How tall and fit and elegant? How that lean boxer’s body—she’d seen him fight in the ring at Lethe with the enormous Duke of Vale and hold his own—flexed beneath the bespoke suit he wore.

She was accustomed to seeing him at Lethe and on the seedy streets of London.

A business owner and reluctant protector, not this dashing suitor.

The man was a chameleon. His jokes and affability tended to disarm…

and people, especially criminals, didn’t realize they were in the sights of a predator until it was much too late.

He wore the guise of an unassuming, amiable peer, bu t the bruised, scarred knuckles beneath the expensive leather gloves said he was anything but indolent.

He was blade wrapped in velvet, beautiful to look at but just as deadly, and the combination was deeply seductive.

And this was all fake , she reminded herself.

And yet…

Had she ever noticed how sharp his jawline was?

Or admired the rich auburn streaks in his hair that glinted garnet in the gaslights?

Or how the full curve of that sensual bottom lip disappeared and reappeared glistening from between his teeth?

How she wanted to taste it so badly that her mouth watered.

Sure, she had imagined him as a faceless fantasy many a time, but it was as though she’d never seen him before. Never felt him so acutely before. Not like this.

Her nipples were beaded in her bodice, her inner thighs so damp with arousal that she kept her legs pinned tightly together. She wished she had a notebook so she could write down her feelings. As an author, nothing went to waste…and this was all inspiration for Lady Ivy.

In truth, Briar had been channeling Lady Ivy when she’d chosen the dress.

The heiress-turned-courtesan was beautiful and had confidence in spades.

The entire world was her playground, its occupants hers to command and there for her pleasure.

Briar had never done that before: assumed the identity of her fictional creation, but it was unexpectedly, deliciously liberating.

So much so that she wanted things she had no business craving…

Briar lifted her fan and waved it furiously, hoping to dissipate some of the heat. She could feel the perspiration sliding between her breasts, their sensitivity almost unbearable. Squirming slightly in her chair, she sensed the earl’s attention upon her once more.

“Are you well?” his deep baritone whispered into her right ear.

God , the heat of his breath felt like a caress against her lobe that arrowed right to her peaked nipples and sank lower to where she ached .

“Yes,” she breathed out. “It’s a bit warm.”

“Intermission will be soon,” he said and then pressed his head even closer, his lips nearly grazing her excruciatingly sensitive skin.

Briar suppressed another shiver. “Sackley and Penelope are here,” Lushing murmured.

“In the box directly across to the right. Don’t look now.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since our arrival. ”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Briar lifted her fan and discreetly glanced over the embroidered edge of lace.

Sure enough, Preston’s gaze was fastened to their box instead of the stage.

It gave Briar great satisfaction to know that Penelope also kept darting fraught glances full of uncertainty to the earl beside her.

Was she also regretting her decision? What had Preston told her about the earl to get her to capitulate so quickly and accept his suit?

It had to have been something terrible. The Earl of Lushing’s reputation wasn’t pristine or a secret.

Everyone knew about Lethe, and Jasper had always been an unrepentant rake who flouted the rules of high society to do as he pleased.

Men could be worse gossips than women.

From the thin line of his lips, the viscount was fuming.

Though why he was angry was a mystery. He had broken it off with her for being too vulgar, for handing out a few pamphlets, and having the audacity to dance with a friend.

Had he expected her to come crawling back to him…

to beg for his forgiveness and plead for him to take her back?

Perhaps he had. Briar had quietly taken his sly pinches, after all, as well as his spiteful jibes.

But she had been so focused on securing her future that none of that had mattered.

She blinked. If Lushing hadn’t suggested this asinine plan, maybe she would have swallowed her dignity and done exactly that.

Begged him to take her back. Her stomach twisted.

Goodness, was she truly that eager to marry such a craven man, even if it guaranteed her independence?

The answer had always been yes. Her work with the women and her writing mattered more than a pinch or two or a pathetic insult. Preston had been nothing but a tool.

A name to give her existence as a woman basic legitimacy.

Because they were invisible without a fucking husband.

Heat crept up her neck again, but this time it was for a different reason.

She was furious and frustrated that she had to even engineer something like this just to have the life she wanted.

Women should be able to choose their futures for themselves, not depend on a husband who may or may not be open-minded.

They were real persons with their own hopes and dreams. Why should they need a man to exist fully? It was nonsensical.

She rose, her corset growing unbearably tight. “Excuse me.”

“Lady Briar?” Lushing asked with concern, also standing.

“I’m fine, but I need a moment,” she said, meeting Laila’s gaze and giving an infinitesimal jerk of her chin. “I’ll just be a minute. Laila will be with me, don’t worry.”

Gulping huge breaths into her lungs, she practically ran from the box to the nearest retiring room. Thankfully, the space was nearby and empty. Briar splashed water on her face just as Laila entered behind her.

“Briar, what’s wrong?” her friend asked, eyes dark with worry.

“Nothing. I couldn’t breathe for a moment, and my vision started swimming. I was afraid I was going to swoon. I never faint.” She hunched over the basin and clasped a hand over her chest, pressing hard into her breastbone as if the pressure could alleviate the constriction of her lungs.

Laila rubbed her back before drawing her to sit on a small settee. “Is it because of the engagement with the earl? Tell me the truth. Is it real?”

The loaded questions made her breaths even shallower, but Briar knew she had to sell the performance, or all of this would be for naught.

The retiring room might be empty of guests, but there were still attendants close by as well as footmen in the corridors outside.

In the ton , there were ears and eyes everywhere, even when one did not see them.

“It is,” she said and carefully considered her words. “I know it might seem as though I haven’t thought things through, considering what you already know of my feelings for him, but Lushing is a good man underneath all the vanity and posturing. I’m safe.”

Laila nodded, though her face still looked uncertain.

“We both know that Vesper would commit fratricide without hesitation, if he ever put one toe out of line or does anything to harm a hair on your head.” She sucked in a breath.

“But that doesn’t mean that you’re right for each other.

This is impulsive, even for you. And you’ve just been through a shock—anyone would be upset over Viscount Sackley’s heartless actions.

Perhaps you should take some time before rushing into another courtship.

” She worried her lip. “If this is some creative way to save face with the ton , then that’s different. ”

She was so close to the truth that Briar nearly gave it all away—her nostrils were stinging with the urge to burst into tears—but by some miracle, she kept her expression blank.

She had to give her friend something . After so many years of friendship, Laila knew her much too well to simply believe she’d had such a change of heart with Lushing, of all people.

“You’re right. I was hurt, but Sackley was always a means to an end.

The earl and I have discovered a mutual esteem.

He needs a wife, and I need a husband. And he’s not so terrible, once you get to know him. ”

And he makes my heart race in ways I cannot explain…

She squashed that down immediately. Her feelings of attraction were unrequited. The earl wanted Penelope.

Laila sniffed. “You do know him, Briar. He’s Lushing. A rogue. A charming, rakish scoundrel with nothing but idleness on his mind. I adore him and he’s diverting company, but by God, he’s… Lushing .”

“You say his name like a reductive adjective,” Briar said, lips twitching with humor.

“Isn’t it?”

She wasn’t wrong. “He’s tolerable then.”

Laila barked a laugh. “In the words of Austen, barely . That’s the bar of what we’re aiming for these days?”

Briar laughed, the knot in her chest finally loosening. “We can’t all find a gentleman to shove into the Serpentine to make them fall hopelessly in love with us.”

“That was an accident .”