Jaiden Corvone weaved her gloved fingers together tightly, her whole body wracked with nervousness while her eyes scanned the gentlemen arriving for the Cyprian Ball.

This had been a bad idea. A terrible idea. Not only because mistresses were chosen for their abundant assets and she had only minimal ones, but that the lords were attentive to the most stunning of the females. Her short sable hair, tawny eyes and average face could not compare.

Her sisters Antoinette (Toni) and Layla had no idea what she was about to do. However, if she did not secure an income and funds to give them a dowry, they would end up on the streets. Someone had to make the sacrifices. She was the eldest. It was her duty to do so.

Beneath the bodice of her ivory silk gown, her heart pounded too hard. The gown was not paid for. She had it designed, sewn via a seamstress friend of Madam Ruet, who ran a fashionable hell, with the promise she would have the bill paid at week’s end.

Considering her figure was rather lithe and boyish, she had seen no advantage in choosing one in the current nearly sheer and low cut style. Instead she had a sheath like design made, with the only ornamentation being the wide V bodice, with lace insert, in hopes that showing a hint of skin would distract from the fact her breasts were nowhere near the large, plump, spilling-out ones, she’d seen on most mistresses.

She was using the name Madame Corvone, for indeed she was a widow of Monsieur. Using that helped to keep her first and last name from someday being attached to her sisters. She hoped rather fervently, that all the information and advice she had gathered was right—and that any man who chose her would be the more effeminate and foppish sort, the kind who would be drawn to her non overt femininity.

At five foot tall, she had been assured that when the titled picked their mistresses, they liked to outdo each other—they wanted them stately, lush, and well endowed.

Jaiden sighed, hating herself for the nerves, since she had gotten this far and was actually here. She loathed any rebellion in her mind of a future hiding her education and intellect for the sake of.... intimacies. God knew, that crash course on that aspect of being a mistress was enough to make her nearly cut and run a dozen times.

The music was wonderful she told herself, the ballroom tastefully arranged and the sight far from some gaudy and coarse gathering she’d expected.

These women were the future courtesans, the mistresses of rich captains, nobles and merchants. For the most part they had better manners than some she recalled at her debut amid high society. If not for the subtle innuendo she picked up, the slight sexual by-play of those dancing, she would never know the difference.

Yet she knew. She had to unglue from this safe spot and move forward. She should be where Ms. Vandenberg told her to stand, near the elegant blue draped window which would frame her perfectly.

Oh God. She thought, and began to take those small steps that way, feeling the bounce in her hair where its short nape length had been curled. A white band placed around it. She found the silk sheath fit like a skin and could feel her thighs outlined with every step, the soft brush of fabric against her bum, which was bare because of the snug fit. She had her lashes blackened and wore a subtle lip salve in hopes of enhancing the pale pink of her mouth. She needed some edge among the beauties here.

The laughter and blend of male and female voices rose. The ballroom sounds mingled with the adjoining room where there were sitting areas and card tables set up. She attained the spot and turned, reaching to pull the train of her dress to the side. She lifted her chin to peer over the men again—lingering on the rouged and laced, more slim fellows, some looking as young as her eighteen-year-old sister Toni.

It would be so much easier, would it not, to have to please a green lad, rather than an experienced one... she had the choice to some extent. Ms. Vandenberg explained that if more than one made an offer, or showed the attention, she could choose whichever she wanted.

Her heart did a little dip as it appeared most of those fellows were equally enthralled by the competition. She could not blame them since two women who stood closest to the line had curves like an hourglass, long and lush hair. Their faces leaned to the exotic.

Jaiden contented herself with watching dancers and couples who stood at the edge talking, their heads close, and intimate smiles abundant. However, as the hour passed and more and more ladies left the main ballroom, taking their potential patrons to the sitting room or more intimate place to talk, she began to feel a very real panic. Seeing as how her rent was due at the rooming house in two days, the dress was not paid for. Both Layla and Toni would be in London in two weeks, with every expectation of enjoying a life and society she had been claiming to live in for two years.

The music stopped. There was some shifting from the orchestra which brought the voices of those around her more in clarity. It was whilst she was making that scan again that her gaze landed on a man just near the open arch leading to the sitting room. He had his arms crossed and leaned his shoulders against the wood. He was looking right at her.

No. No, she chanted, noting his impressive height, the swarthy skin which marked him as a recent soldier. He had a head full of wavy black hair which framed a nearly hard face, all sinew and aristocratic bones.

His eyes were coal. There was a ruthless set to his face, the sinew, fitting a blade of a nose and sensual lips. Though he was wearing Hessians and leather trousers, snug enough to show the power in his legs, he’d removed his jacket. The billow sleeved white shirt seemed to enhance not only his darkness, but the breadth of very broad shoulders.

No. Jaiden repeated. He was likely amused, possibly comparing her lack of height and assets to the rest of the room, and not actually eyeing her for- –that-reason. He would suit so well the tall and lush ladies, be a perfect match for the more endowed. Oh God, no. He was pulling away and coming toward her.

Gulping a swallow of air that didn’t help her one bit, Jaiden noted his walk, just a mixture of command and confidence. She discerned without knowing that he was an aristocrat, brown skin or no.

The man stopped just a few feet from her, by Ms. Vandenberg. Jaiden considered running or heading off somewhere. She didn’t smile as they were looking at her, obviously discussing her. Ms. Vandenberg with her silver hair and gown, her lovely face, was smiling, her head nodding, apparently doing her best on Jaiden’s behalf. Jaiden did not know how to signal that she would really rather she did not.

As the conversation finished, the man came forward, his eyes raking her leisurely, too warm, black eyes. He stopped finally. She tried to recall what some of the ladies had told her to put off an undesired man....and could not.

He bowed and said clear and deep, “Madame Corvone?”

“Yes.” She sounded bloody breathless. He smelled warm and virile. She had to look up at him. Staring into that sensual face was not easy.

“I am Raven.”

Jaiden returned, “How do you do?”

The merest hint of a smile touched his mouth. “Very well thus far, and you?”

She blurt, “A bit nervous, but holding up.”

His brow rose. She mentally kicked herself. She was supposed to be a sophisticated widow, making a discreet and advantageous arrangement. Jaiden amended rather quickly. “Fine... I am fine.”

His sooty eyes moved over her face. He reached for her hand.

She gave it trying to ignore it trembled.

He indicated the sitting room. “Shall we?”

She wanted to say no, even looked desperately around for anyone else, an elder gent with gout mayhap? Some lad just growing whiskers? However, no one was paying her the least attention. In the end she stepped up, her arm through his, and walked with him to the sitting area.

His arm was solid, the heat through the silk notable. His scent, dear lord, he smelled of wind and night and secrets.

Having led her to a fairly empty spot on an Egyptian sofa that was angled toward the fireplace, he remained standing and offered, “Champagne or brandy?”

“Champagne.” She watched him head toward the side bar and pour a crystal glass full. He poured a brandy for himself. Upon returning, handing the glass to her, he took his seat, with his back resting on the end of the sofa. His large body needed most of the space so that knee was very near her hip.

She sipped as he did. His eyes were scrutinizing every move, progressing over her. It was a miracle the swallow went down as smooth as it did.

He leaned up, his knee sliding upon the cushion. One boot sole on the floor, the drink in one hand, his other lightly touched her elbow length glove. “Ms. Vandenberg tells me you are interested in an arrangement that is extremely discreet?”

She had turned her head and met his gaze. “Yes. I would prefer not to be public.”

There, she thought, he would find someone else, because that implied no flaunting her in the park, no attending the theater. No days at the track where other men brought their mistresses.

“That is agreeable with me.”

Jaiden groaned mentally.

His lashes dipped. His eyes watched his fingers trace her skin above the glove. Jaiden's skin was tingling from his touch. His hands were not covered, not pampered. She became aware from that subtle stroke Raven would be the sort of male she wanted to avoid in such an arrangement.

“I shall lease a house by the year. Arrange credit for you. A generous allowance. A carriage and coach, servants, and,” His lashes lifted. His shadowy gaze stared deep. “There will of course be certain inducements, to assure we are both satisfied with the arrangement.”

She wet her lips. His gaze followed it. Jaiden had no idea if inducement meant gifts, jewels, which she’d pawn for her sisters to use, or something more intimate since his eyes were so intense.

Oh God. She repeated what was becoming a prayer. She must do something to—”

“Most mistresses are known for certain skills, wit and charm. Some cater to more crude taste, and amusing habits. You seem rather quiet...”

Ms. Vandenberg had told Jaiden of this, she’d stressed that men wanted mistresses for conversation and laughter, entertainment and confidence, some less than others, but that it was much more than bedroom antics. In addition, since she had not expected to draw the attention of a mature and obviously sensual man, Jaiden had given it little thought.

“Are you married?” She asked, hoping he was, hoping he had a wife to distract him.

“No. I have only just resigned my commission and returned to London.”

She blew out a breath. “The truth is, I am new to this, sir—”

“Raven,” he cut in.

“Yes. Well, Raven. I am entering this arrangement for the first time. I would rather be led by... whatever a gentleman prefers, than claim some skill that may prove unsatisfactory.”

“You are a widow?” He frowned slightly.

“Yes. I am.”

“You must have wed young.”

“Seventeen,” she supplied but rushed, “Please do not feel that you must settle on me, s—ah Raven. I am sure there are more sophisticated and—”

“Perhaps you appeal to me more.” Raven rubbed the pad of his finger on her arm. “In fact, I decided when I arrived, that you did.”

Well. That certainly took her chances of dissuading him to a new low.

He seemed to be trying to read her thoughts as he murmured, “The details are normally arranged through Ms. Vandenberg, is that how you wish to proceed?”

She blinked.

Raven added, “I send notice here when the house is ready. We make the initial arrangements through her.”

As her so-called sponsor, Jaiden understood that Ms. Vandenberg would get a small fee for doing so. She nodded.

His smile teased again. “You look a bit frightened, or intimidated.”

She was more anxious than anything. “I had not expected to attract the notice of someone so...” She paused, nearly flushing because she did not know how to put it. “I expected to appeal to a different sort of man.”

“Ah. Should I be flattered or insulted?” His whiter than white teeth flashed.

“Flattered,” she rasped feeling her stomach flutter at that smile. He must know that he was strong and dark and virile, in fact he’d have to be blind and stupid not to know how he stood out amid the ruddy faced and perfumed men present.

“You seem almost virginal in your timidity, Madam.”

“I’m not a virgin.” She would not blush even if she died on the spot. Moreover, she had better get used to such intimate talk.

“I’ve no aversion to timidity.” There was a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

Good Lord. What a complex contrast. Across the room Raven had looked hard and inflexible. He smelled wonderful. His voice was deep and smooth. He bloody smiled and she’d wager it buckled the knees of most women. Now he was teasing her.

“I’m not shy. Not in general. I’m just feeling my way through something new to me.” She was proud of herself for sounding even and calm.” I will admit I’m not used to intimacy with strangers.”

He stared at her a long time. “You’ve never been a mistress?”

“No.”

He pulled his hand back just a bit, still regarding her. “Had other lovers aside from your husband?”

“No.”

He shook his head, his stare holding hers. “I shall pay well indeed for the privilege of becoming your first.” His tone was huskier.

She did flush, but only the slightest.

“You have entered this... lifestyle of your own choice?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Forgive me.” He was almost smiling again. “But do you understand what the exchange—”

“—Yes. I do.”

“And you have an open mind?”

That gave her pause. “I gave it a great deal of time. Consideration.”

Raven did not look wholly convinced, but whatever doubts or questions he had, did not change his mind. “Would tomorrow be too soon to seal the arrangements?”

“Not at all.” She sighed despite her trepidation. It would assure she could pay rent owed, pay for the gown. She’d be in the house by the end of the week.

He regarded her oddly, but suggested, “Perhaps you should make acquaintances of other ladies in a similar position.”

She already had. She was acquainted with more ladybirds than she’d ever know actual ladies. “I shall if you think it necessary. However, I was given to understand that gentlemen have no problem expressing their preferences.”

“True.” He reached up and touched a curl by her ear though his gaze held hers. “I can see this is going to be quite unique for us both, Madame. By the way, do you have a Christian name?”

She responded to that smile, but gave him a shortened version. “Jade.”

He nodded and dropped his hand. He stood then and glanced down, a wavy strand of inky hair sliding over his brow. “Until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” She echoed, dismayed by the situation she found herself—no, by the man who was apparently attracted enough to make her his mistress. Jaiden sighed and watched him leave to find Ms. Vandenberg.