Pleasure For Pleasure by Eloisa James Page B

is.”
    â€œAnnoying why?”
    â€œBecause she dismissed me without a second’s thought. But I couldn’t stop thinking of her.” He shrugged.
    â€œYou love your sister,” Josie pointed out.
    â€œOf course I do. But I meant a truly passionate love.” He shook himself and suddenly his eyes snapped into focus, staring down at her, and before she knew what had happened, he’d pulled her to her feet and nimbly turned her about. Then he was unbuttoning her gown down the back.
    Josie felt as if the champagne had dulled her responses. This particular impropriety had never been covered by her governess, Miss Flecknoe. Mayne didn’t want to seduce her. He thought she looked like a stuffed sausage. So did it matter that he was about to see her corset?
    â€œGod almighty,” he whispered as the dress fell open.
    He’d seen her corset.
    â€œWhat in the hell is this thing?” He sounded almost angry. “It looks like the underpinning of a ship.”
    â€œIt’s a special corset they sell in Paris for larger ladies,” Josie explained, feeling a burning flush rise up her neck. “Would you please button my gown back up?”
    But he was pulling at the strings.
    â€œYou can’t just pull at me,” Josie said, breathless. “You have to unhook at the top and bottom. And then you can start to unlace, but you have to do it slowly. Very slowly.”
    â€œWhy?” he asked, and she heard the sound of a little hook being torn apart.
    â€œDon’t do that!” she cried, agonized. And then: “Because I might faint if it opens too quickly.”
    â€œDamn.” He said it flatly.
    She didn’t faint, even though the pressure released so quickly that she swayed forward. He grabbed her, large hands holding her shoulders. He steadied her, and then pushed her gown forward over her arms. As it fell to the floor, the corset followed. Of course it didn’t fall with a gentle swish, the way her gown did. It clanked because the whalebones were capped with special little tips of lead, so they wouldn’t dig into her skin.
    The tighter, the better, Madame Badeau had said, showing her how her maid should brace herself against the bed and force the lacings closed. And then she’d said the magic words: You won’t be able to eat while wearing this, of course.
    In Josie’s mind, that had been the moment when The Corset, as she thought of it, moved to sacred status. The Corset would give her a successful season. The Corset would stop her from eating, and give her a slender, refined shape, and give her a husband.
    It hadn’t worked out that way. And besides, Josie found herself perfectly able to eat while wearing it.
    Mayne was staring at the ground, where the corset had fallen. “It looks like a bizarre kind of chrysalis that hatched a butterfly,” he said, picking it up by one of its many straps. “What in the devil were you wearing this for, Josie?”
    He wasn’t even looking at her, but Josie slung her arms across her thin chemise and tried not to think about all her unbounded flesh. “It made me thinner,” she snapped.
    â€œYou don’t need to be thinner,” he said. Then he glanced at her. “Are you cold? Put your gown back on.”
    There was a moment’s silence and then Josie said in a stern little voice, “I can’t, not without the corset. It won’t fit.” That was one of the gifts of The Corset. She was able to wear gowns that were almost—not quite—the same measurements as those worn by Imogen.
    Mayne tossed the corset to the side, where it fell with a dull clang and a tinkling of lead-covered tips. “I’ll get yousomething to put on,” he said. Before she knew what happened, he was out the door.
    Josie spread her arms. It was…glorious to have the corset off. Glorious. She was wearing a chemise of the lightest lawn. It felt like air, billowing around