Page 9 of The Lady’s Great Escape

Chapter Four

Aweek later, on the eve of the Harrington Masquerade, Celia carried a tray of broth into her brother’s room and set it next to his bed. He’d fallen ill the day before, and now complained of a sore throat and stuffy nose.

She’d never seen such suffering as a man with a cold. Women managed to expel new humans from their bodies, but a man with a sniffle was to be celebrated for sitting up in bed to slurp broth.

She pressed her palm to his forehead and relaxed at the cool, dry skin. “You don’t have a fever. I think you’ll be fine in a few days.”

He groaned. “A few days will be too late. Damn, Kit.”

She was to understand Kit had fallen ill days earlier and sent his regrets for the last few dinners and breakfasts, as well as the masquerade to be held that night.

Celia hated the relief she felt knowing Kit wouldn’t be attending the illicit affair. Not that she should care what he did, but she found she did nonetheless.

She remembered his smile the other morning during breakfast when he’d said she was lovely.

Unconsciously, she brushed her fingers over the mark on her face. He’d also said the spot was irrelevant. Gray had once told her that he hardly noticed it anymore because he’d grown accustomed to it being there. Had Kit merely grown accustomed to it as well?

“Get some rest,” she ordered her brother. “I’m sure Lady Harrington will invite you next year.”

“It will be too late,” he grumbled. “This was going to be our last party together. We will very well get invited next year, but Kit will be married by then.”

The relief she’d felt a moment ago was gone. Kit was going to start his search for a wife. His rejection still stung all these years later. She understood why he’d refused to marry her. Logically, he was trying to protect her. But her heart cared little for logic.

She swallowed and shook off her discomfort. She didn’t care what Kit did. Especially since she was ready to enact her own plan to take a lover.

The problem being, she didn’t know the mechanics of sex, never having had sexual relations herself. Her elderly husband had taken her to his bed on their wedding night to ensure no one would question the marriage was consummated and therefore contest her settlement upon his death. While she was grateful not to have been called on for such duties, her lack of experience added another challenge in her quest to find a lover.

What if the person she selected could tell she was inexperienced? Arthur’s grandson, Edward, had already voiced his doubts that she had been Arthur’s legitimate wife. If someone confirmed his suspicions, he would have more leverage of his claims in the House of Lords.

It didn’t matter that it was Arthur who had been unable to perform his husbandly duties. If anyone knew she was still a virgin, it would leave the validity of her marriage in question.

His inability had been something she’d been grateful for at the time, given her discomfort with having a husband who was so much older than she. Now, however, she almost wished she’d been able to have a customary wedding night, just so she would know what to do and ensure Arthur’s heir couldn’t take away the settlement that provided freedom for a widow.

Graham stirred in his sleep. He’d taken her advice to heart and was resting. Most likely, he’d simply run out of energy.

She moved the tray out of the way and knocked something from the nightstand. She bent to pick it up, recognizing the invitation to Lady Harrington’s Exclusive Masquerade to be held that night.

Graham couldn’t attend, and neither could Kit, both being ill.

Admission granted upon presentation of this invitation only.

It seemed she had access to a place where she might go to learn all she needed about what one does with a man in bed. And no one would even know it was her.

Was she ready to have her every desire granted? Yes. Yes, she was.

Clutching the invitation to her chest, she backed away silently from Graham’s room and hurried off to prepare for the party.

Celia’s maid, Lettie, was beside herself with excitement when Celia explained she would be going to a masquerade. Celia was sure to keep the specifics of the party to herself as Nettie selected a gown that had been stashed away in the back of the wardrobe because it had been too revealing.

The cobalt gown was perfect for what she was about to do now. It dipped much lower in front than her usual dresses and was stitched with intricate gold thread and glass beading. The back also dipped low enough that a man might touch her bare skin with his gloved hand as they danced.

Would there be dancing? Or was one expected to just get right to the desire?

Nettie fussed with Celia’s hair until it was secured in a vine of braids on top of her head. A style she’d never worn before but was quite stunning.

Finally, the glittering blue mask she and Nettie had decorated with beading to match her gown was tied firmly in place and Celia gazed at herself in the mirror. She’d never felt so adventurous. Or beautiful. The mark on her face was completely obscured by the mask. She even had Nettie confirm that part of her face couldn’t be seen.

“It’s completely hidden,” Nettie said with a frown. “Not that it’s as bad as you make it to be.”