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Jo didn’t go to her room right away. She walked along the garden path, hoping that she’d be able to put her thoughts in order.

She hadn’t been intimate with a man for a few long months now. Surely that accounted for her animal desire toward the viscount. She didn’t even realize at which point her desire took over and she became like a rabid animal, straddling him, touching him, biting him.

She remembered the feel of his cock in her hands and licked her lips. She would love to know his taste, would love to feel his tongue on her…

Jo grimaced. She needed to find herself a lover. But not the viscount.

Nothing good ever came from getting involved with a gentleman. She knew that first hand. And second hand, and third hand.

Every woman in her vicinity only ever suffered at the hands of the nobility.

She remembered Mick’s earlier invitation to his bed and grimaced. I suppose there are worse evils than a handsome viscount.

She walked farther toward the fountain and heard strange noises. It sounded like… moaning?

Jo looked around, astonished. Had the viscount found a replacement for her so soon?

She needed to walk away. Just go to her room and go to bed.

Yet curiosity got the better of her, and she tiptoed toward the sounds of unbridled passion. There was a couple in the gazebo a few feet away. She couldn’t make out the people involved, but they were entwined in the most sensual of acts.

Jo clenched her thighs together as she started getting aroused.

“Oh, Isabel,” the male voice growled, and Jo stumbled.

Isabel?

Jo instantly turned away and hurried as far away from the couple as she could. Isabel was the hostess of the house party and the man enjoying her feminine delights was none other than her husband, the marquess!

Everyone was looking for them at the ball while they were making love in their gazebo.

Jo chuckled as she hurried her steps. Good for them.

She hadn’t met a lot of loving couples among the ton. And she was oddly delighted that her instincts about this couple had been proven right.

The viscount had worried about his sister for naught.

Jo didn’t notice how she made her way back to the main entrance of the house. She was still hot, and clothing stuck to her overheated skin. Her hair was disheveled, and her breathing was accelerated.

She wasn’t certain if she was still overwrought from her tryst with the viscount, or if it was the residue of arousal from witnessing the passionate interlude of her hosts. Either way, she didn’t feel like joining the ball again.

No, what she needed was something else.

The doors to my suite are always open. The viscount’s invitation proved to be too enticing.

Jo grimaced and hurried toward her room. She couldn’t afford to get entangled with the viscount.

And as for her need? Well, she could take care of her needs on her own.

Unless, of course, Selena was in the room. Then she would have to suffer her feverish needs or throw a bucket of cold water on herself.

Jo pushed the door, but it didn’t budge. Was it locked? Jo pushed it harder only to hear a squeak. As the door finally opened, something crashed loudly to the floor. No. Not something. Someone!

Jo yelled, jumped back, tripped over her gown, and fell onto her arse. She peeked into the room cautiously, only to see a woman with sandy-blond hair, wearing an ocean-blue gown lying in a heap on the floor.

“Selena?”

“Jo?”