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CHAPTER ONE

London

June, 1841

SIR M ARK T URNER did not look like any virgin that Jessica had ever seen before

Perhaps, she mused, it was because he was surrounded by women

The uneven glass of the taproo across the street Not that she would have been able to see anything, even had she been standing in the muck of the road After all, it had taken less than a minute for the mob to form The instant Sir Mark had coe had co ladies had spilled out, tugged along by an eager chaperone Two elderly way, had laid eyes on him a fewspeed

The oldest woreatcoat and the other on her cane—and she was ers-on Sir Mark was thronged on all sides by wo one of those ridiculous blue rose cockades on his hat Jessica could see nothing of hiolden hair Still, she could i that famous smile reproduced in woodcuts in all the newspapers: a confident, winning grin, as if he were aware that he was the ht-after bachelor in London

Jessica had no desire to join the throng around Sir Mark She had no autograph book to wave at him, and the likes of her wouldn’t have been welcomed in any event

Sir Mark handled the croell He didn’t bask in the attention, as the ht have done Neither did he shrink fro woentle co the little books with a pencil he produced fro his way inexorably toward the street corner, where a carriage stood

When Jessica thought of virgins, she isters ore thick spectacles and spoke with a staular faces She certainly didn’t iine tall fellohose smiles lit up the dark, rainy street It all went to show: Jessica knew nothing of virgins

Hardly a surprise She’d not spoken to a single one, not in all her years in London

Beside her, George Weston let out a snort “Look at hi up and down the street as if he owned the place”

Jessica traced her finger against theIn point of fact, Sir Mark’s brother, newly the Duke of Parford, did own half the buildings on the street It would annoy Weston if she corrected hi so

But then, Sir Mark’s presence was irritation enough Some days, it seemed as if ever

y society paper in London sent out a new issue every tieration Howscandal sheets, headlines a half-page high declaring: Sir Mark: Threatened by Illness?

“He must think,” Weston continued, “that just because his brother is a duke—” he spat those words “—and the Queen has shown hi everyone who stands as his better Did you know they’re considering him for Commissioner?”

Jessica slanted hilance No; no need to rile the man He could work himself into a lather without any help from her, and for now, she still needed him

“He’s never had to try for anything,” Weston groused “It just falls in his lap And here I’ve been runningto put myself forward Lefevre’s spot was practically pro”

Sir Mark reached his carriage He smiled to one and all Even inside the taproom, Jessica could hear the cries of disappointe door

“I don’t understand how he beca of London society,” Weston vented “Would you believe that they’ve tapped him for the office not because he has any administrative experience, but because they wish to increase public approval? Why everyone cares about hie in even the entlemanly pursuits”

By which Weston undoubtedly

“He wrote a book” Jessica pressed her hands against her skirt Understatement served her purposes better than truth “It has enjoyed a run of some little popularity”

“Don’t start on the bloody Gentlerowled “And don’t ue on my house”

Before Sir Mark’s conveyance could spirit him away, the footmen had to politely clear the crowd froh aon the side that faced her, Jessica could see Sir Mark’s silhouette He removed his hat and bowed his head It was a posture halfway between despair and exhaustion

So All those smiles and handshakes were false Good A man who put on one false front would put on another, and if all his vaunted moral superiority was an act, it would make Jessica’s work very, very easy Besides, if Sir Mark despaired over a little thing like a mob deter to him One paid a price for popularity

And Sir Mark’s book had been very popular indeed The Queen had read it, and had knighted its author for his contribution to popular morality Thereafter, his work had been read in all the favored salons in London Every Sunday seres from the Gentleman’s Guide Why, just last month, a diminutive version had been printed, so that women could carry his words about in their skirt pockets—or in intimate compartments sewn into their petticoats for just that purpose

There was so ladies carrying A Gentlehs as they could e

But women were not his only devotees Some days, it seeanization of his followers They were everywhere on the streets these days, with their blue cockades and their supposedly secret hand signals Sir Mark had done the impossible He’d made chastity popular

Beside her, Weston watched with narrowed eyes as the carriage finally started up The coachh the gathered crowd He shook his head and turned to consider Jessica It was only in her iination that his eyes left a rancid, oily film behind