the house.
Grace hesitated. Did she witness a woman, a lady, jumping from a carriage? What was that woman about?
“Everything well, Grace?” Markus’s fingers firmed on her elbow and he propelled her up another step toward the great rose carved doors.
“I’m fine, but I need to use the washroom.”
“Very well. It is down the hall on the right side of the house, filled, I am sure, with all kinds of interesting things for you ladies to relieve yourselves in.” He smiled a full-tooth smile at her. “I will let you know what room Emma has you settled in, when you return.”
The right side of the home was the side where the young woman scurried into the bushes. Grace stepped into the house and turned toward Markus. He reached up and untied the ribbons about her throat that held her cape in place. The footman grasped back and lifted her cape from her shoulders.
She spun around. The entry dwarfed anything she had ever seen. The dark wood floor gleamed, and before her in the center of the space stood an enormous staircase. Intricately carved of deep rich wood, the stairs were the centerpiece of the room, which led to the second floor.
This home was indeed meant to impress. She headed to the right of the staircase and through the open door to the back half of the first-level rooms. Spotting two doors—the one to the right, with a red ribbon tied on the handle, and the one to the left, with a blue ribbon—she sighed and hoped. Red ribbon meant caution; it was a public place to futter. Blue was the retiring room.
She pushed open the door with the red ribbon to the right and entered the room. The smell of jasmine perfume and rose petals filled her senses and she glanced around. The room was beautiful—soft gold velvet chairs sat on blue carpet, gilded mirrors hung all about on cornflower blue walls. In the middle of the room was a large oval seat with a carved gold wood tree in the center. From the tree, straps of leather hung.
In her mind, she was pushed down on the gold velvet seat…. Her hands were pushed back against the wood tree and the leather straps tied tight about her wrist as a man, with gold hair, bit her neck and breasts. His hands spread her thighs wide as his rough fingers slid up her soft skin heading toward her core. She closed her eyes and moaned, savoring the fantasy.
Her nipples tingled and pebbled hard beneath her corset. She pulled her shoulder blades together and pushed her hard buds against the fabric. Tendrils of pleasure, as if from the wooden tree itself, curled about her body, tightening about her ribs, restricting her breath. Her pussy clenched and she panted. Her sensual desires pulsed alive and raged within her. The intensity of her need shocked her.
Grace, you need to straighten yourself up. No, what she needed was to futter. The herbs in the wine had taken full hold, but the act would have to wait. Something was amiss with what she had just witnessed. Though the herbs may have conjured that vision, she bit her lip. Doubtful. The herbs intensified lust, not conjured up escaping ladies. She forced her eyes open. Where was that fleeing woman?
The room stood empty. She walked to the only window in the room and drew back the covers. Pitch-black darkness stared back through the windowpane. She could see nothing.
Grace sighed, and the door to the room pushed open. A young woman, with mud spattered up her skirt, slid into the room. Her gaze darted around.
She came into the house? Grace’s eyes widened. She would never have held the level of gumption to enter the home of a known courtesan at this woman’s tender age.
“Good evening.”
The young girl jumped.
“All is well, no need to fright. I sighted your flight from the carriage. I was actually looking out the window here”—Grace pointed to the window behind her—“to see if I could find you.”
The woman stood stock-still, eyes the color of a deer’s soft brown fur fixed on Grace.
“All is truly well. I do not believe anyone else saw you. May I help you?” Grace stepped forward toward the girl. “Truly, I will not harm you.”
The young woman bit her lip. “I was not expecting to be here. I followed my brother.”
Grace nodded. “I will not ask his name. This is a party filled with anonymous encounters…that may turn into long-term endearments.” Endearments involving more than one, usually. Grace held back a frown as she reached the young woman’s side. “If you wish to blend in, your attire will not do.” Grace raised her hand and touched a strand of black hair that hung in a curl down the woman’s cheek. “You will need a mask, especially if you decide to partake in any of the goings-on. You cannot have someone find out you are of class and breeding.”
The young lady sucked in her breath. “How did you know that?”
Grace’s lips turned into a smile. “Your clothes…” Grace ran her finger along the well-made muslin on the woman’s arm. “Your hair…” She wrapped the onyx strand around her index finger. “The way you walk. It is all indicative of a lady.”
“Who are you?”
“I am a woman who was once like you—a young lady of breeding and class with no experience in the world. My proper name is not important. Please simply call me Grace.” Grace inwardly cringed that she just offered this woman her Christian name. Since everyone else here knew her as such, why should this girl call her something different?
The young girl glanced around the room, then at Grace. “What kind of event have I arrived at?”
“I hope it will be an event of education for you. You are at a ball for the underbelly of all of London. This is one of Emma Drundle’s Cyprian events.”
“Oh! Oh, no!” The doe brown eyes of the petite woman closed and reopened, glossy from tears.
“All is well.” This young woman feared for her reputation. Grace’s heart ached for her, but she deserved an education of what life was truly like before all her dreams shattered. She deserved to be educated about the enjoyment that could come with this kind of life.
A tear fell from the young woman’s eye. Grace dragged the tips of her fingers along the woman’s cheek and caught the petal-soft drop.
The strange girl squeezed her eyes shut. “My brother is here. This is all a big blunder. What is he doing?”
“I know exactly how you feel. If you do wish to stay, I will help you to understand. Everyone here is not evil or bad. When I was your age, I was married off to a man who was twice my age. An important man in society. I had no clue about what marriage was. I had dreams of what life after marriage was filled with, and it was all wrong. What people had filled my head with was…” All rubbish. She couldn’t very well say that. She glanced at the young woman’s fisted hands. “Let me show you. Do not give me your real name, but what shall I call you?”
The woman looked down at Grace’s belly and bit her lip. “I don’t know.”
“Very well, I will give you a name for the night….” Grace trailed her finger along the young woman’s chin and lifted her head so her eyes met Grace’s. “You will be Veronica for tonight…Miss Veronica.” Grace rolled the name off her tongue and winked at the young girl.
“Oh, I can’t play t-that part…. I—I—am not like that. I—I have…” The young
