Scenting Scandal: Lady Laura Jamison: “For the sake of propriety, I was ensuring your garments were intact.” #HistoricalMystery #VictorianRomance #RomCom https://books2read.com/suziloveSS
Continue reading →Busks shaped and reinforced the centre front of stays, or corsets. They were made from whalebone, wood, and bone, and were often inscribed with names, dates, and symbols of love because they were positioned close to the heart. The corsets worn in Jane Austen’s later years and by women in Bridgerton times often had busks to stiffen the corset and support the breasts.
The Duke of St. Martin asks Lady Rebecca Jamison, “Who protects you from the current set of fire-breathing dragons?” #HistoricalRomance #Mystery https://books2read.com/suziloveES
“And who protects you from the current set of fire-breathing dragons?”
She raised her chin. “I’ve outgrown such childishness.”
She lowered herself to the closest settee, a demonstration of ladylike maturity and a reprieve for her trembling knees.
“Pity.” His forehead furrowed into a pained frown. “Ah.
That’s why you wore a disguise. And why you came so late at night.”
She nodded. “The consortium watches our house and tracks our movements. In order to speak with you alone, I was forced to dress like this and sneak out the servant’s entrance in the dark. Although luckily, the syndicate’s inner circle doesn’t want me dead. Not yet.
“Wonderful!” He glared at her. “Your blithe not yet offers such comfort to my nerves.”
She glared back. “Oooh! I cannot explain if you interrupt with your sarcastic jabs.”
He dipped his head, and then waved a hand. “I apologize for my uncertain temperament this evening. Please, tell me about Peggy, and what she did at your Women’s Society.”
“She writes — No, she wrote the letters for women who wish to invest in stock ventures. We were trying to keep their identities, and their objectives, a secret.”
“Why? Because they’re women? Because jobbers stood for them in the Exchange?”
She raised a brow. “For someone only recently returned to London, you appear exceedingly well acquainted with the inside activities at the Exchange.”
He shrugged. “I’ve spent every spare moment since my return settling the family’s finances. Naturally, I’ve looked in at the Foreign Funds Room a time or two. Nobody in my position can afford to let bank balances sit idle, despite some labeling it as trade.”
“I’m impressed, Cayle. You detested accounts when your father wanted you to learn.”
Once more he shrugged, yet his show of nonchalance appeared overdone. “Perhaps it was more of not liking the methods of the educator, rather than the subject being taught.”
She shuddered at her recollection of the late duke’s disciplinary methods. “But you’re correct,” she said, pushing away images of birch rods twanging on bare flesh. “Some in our prudish society frown upon a gentleman of your caliber frequenting auction rooms. But, for a woman, it’d be an outrage.”
His eyes fixed upon her, all signs of his earlier fatigue vanished. “I can well imagine.”
“Though legally nothing prevents a woman from owning shares,” she said, assessing his concentration by the tense way he held his long, muscled body. “Visiting members are vetted at the door. Bank managers and jobbers pay eight guineas a year to enter the main Exchange room, yet self-righteous men evict females.”
“So, is it your gender that sees you under threat?”
“Not merely our gender. When the consortium heard we invested in secret, and often did very well, at first they became alarmed. Then, they became angry. Very angry indeed.”
“I can well imagine men abhorring being bested by a female.”
1860 New Hebrides, Pacific Ocean.
Nothing had prepared Lady Katharine Montgomery for the jumble of feelings overwhelming her when Alex worshipped her body, first with words and later with his hands and mouth. For years around this house, she’d been forced to appear dowdy, unintelligent, and totally self-effacing to never anger her father, or draw his wrath. Now, though, every degrading restriction was lifted from her mind, body, and life.
Her father was dead. Yesterday, she’d buried her hatred for the despicable man who’d given her life during the quarter hour it took to stand at his grave and, along with all the other hypocrites present, pretend to mourn as they buried his mortal remains. He’d cheated traders, beaten plantation workers, and horse-whipped her within an inch of her life. She and all the other mourners hoped he’d rot in hell.
Last night, she’d felt free to liberate the passionate nature she’d kept buried for six and twenty years for fear of her father’s explosive wrath. But one night with Lord Alexander St. John had changed everything. One night with a lover who was gentle and caring had her aching for more, more of Alex and more of life with him.
1860 New Hebrides, Pacific Ocean.
Katie woke sluggishly, unable to pinpoint what felt different. Outside, it was still dark and she guessed it was a couple of hours before the tropical dawn. Already the heat was oppressive and sweat dotted her body, the bed linen a crumpled tangle on the floor. She usually awoke with a jolt, fearful of what the day might bring and uncertain if she’d be alive to see tomorrow’s dawn. But today she felt alive. Even her body felt different, sort of enjoyable lassitude, but with a few puzzling tender areas.
She flinched and barely smothered her scream when a heavily muscled arm draped across her bare waist and languidly pulled her backwards. Memory flooded her. Alex was tugging her, gently but persistently, towards him again. Her inner struggle between mind and body lasted only a fleeting minute as she permitted her naked body to be lifted and draped across his, breast to breast, thighs meeting and his aroused flesh, hot and hard, enticing her once more.
‘Alex…’
Gentle fingers against her lips silenced her. ‘Shush, Katie. Shush!’
‘But we have an agreement.’
‘I promise to abide by your ridiculous rules, but we still have many hours before full tide and I want to love you, again and again. I need this! We both do. This may be all the time we have to be together for a long while.’
1815-1825 ca. Dark Green Leather Woman’s Slippers, French. The type of shoes worn by Jane Austen and her female friends and family. Made in France and worn in Boston, Massachusetts, USA. Worn by Mehetable Stoddard Sumner (Welles), American, 1784-1826. Green silk bows, lapped side seams, green silk bindings, black silk ribbon ties, plain linen drawstring at fronts, white leather insoles, white linen vamp linings; leather soles. Written in ink on insole was ‘Droit’, meaning right side, although both shoes may have been the same. via Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. mfa.org.
Shoes in the early 1800s were flat or low heeled and occasionally decorated with a bow or floral embellishments and it wasn’t until the 1820s that square, rather than rounded, toes became fashionable. Typical Regency Era women’s footwear were shoes that had low heels, slightly rounded toes, embellished with a bow and with ribbon ties for the ankles. Made of soft kid or cloth, these delicate shoes were flimsy and wore out quickly. Slippers were often bought in multiples at a time and with no difference between left or right foot so when one slipper had a hole it was easily replaced.
“No need,” Lady Laura Jamison said to the Eal of Winchester, unclenching her jaw and showing her teeth in a false but placating smile. “I’d be most distressed, kind sir, if you put yourself out on my account. Becca left me a list of instructions as long as my arm on which shares to buy and sell, and how to deliver my orders to our Stock Exchange agents. To excel at my duties, I need only follow each and every step. Rather like climbing a ladder.”
“People have been known to tumble from ladders. Land in the wrong place.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Very true. But for all I know, aligning myself with you may land me in deep water. How do I know you’re trustworthy? You could be copying those scoundrels Becca had imprisoned. Sneaking into our household to steal our secrets.”
She’d tried to appear apprehensive, but when his jaw went slack with shock, she couldn’t stop help but chuckled.
He waggled a finger. “You, pixie, are provoking me. Deliberately.”
“Do, please, stop calling me such a childish name. If you haven’t noticed, I became a woman several years ago.”
His gaze flicked over her body, scorched where it touched and left her tingling in its wake. “Trust me, Laura, I’d noticed.”
Scenting Scandal Book 2 Scandalous Siblings Series. https://books2read.com/suziloveSS
Scenting Scandal Book 2 Scandalous Siblings Series By Suzi Love. Lady Laura Jamison uses her extraordinary olfactory senses to sniff out her perfect match, but after she evades an assassin’s bullets, twice, she is forced to accept the protection of their family friend, and her nemesis, Richard St. Martin, the Earl of Winchester.
