“Everything has consequences,” she whispered. “But that does sound…bewitching. And also like you have a great deal of experience with this place.”
There was a moment where Esme’s gaze went a little faraway, like she was recalling memories and not all of them pleasant. But then she shook her head. “One day I will tell you where I was and what I did when I was gone from Society. But not today. Would you want me to make the arrangements?”
Lily shifted and worried her hands in her lap. “This is all so fast, it’s dizzying.”
Esme smiled. “Purposefully so. I want you to answer from your gut, not from some twisted sense of propriety that would keep you from ever doing anything that is just for yourself.”
“Yes.” Lily said it without even realizing she was going to. Her stomach immediately turned and she swallowed hard, even as Esme caught her hands and bounced a little with excitement.
“Oh, I’m so pleased. You are the dearest person, with such brightness and shine to you. You deserve to have pleasure and secret passions.”
Lily’s head spun. Pleasure and secret passions. That sounded wild and wonderful and everything opposite of the life she’d led for years and years. The part of her that had been raised with notions of propriety all but beaten into her rebelled against it. Told her she was ruining her prospects with even the thought of such wicked things.
But then reality set in. She was a twenty-eight-year-old widow who had been unable to give her husband children in the seven years they’d been married. Many eligible men would see that as a mark against her if they were looking to marry to create heirs. She had no great fortune to tempt a man in that way, though she had enough to comfortably live the quiet life she’d chosen. There was no future to protect, at least not as tightly as she often did out of…habit, she supposed it was.
But why couldn’t she break that habit?
“You look very serious,” Esme said, taking her hand and bringing Lily back to the present moment. “Have I pushed too hard?”
“No, I think I needed the push,” Lily said with a sigh. “As you said, this should be a night without consequences, yes? And I intend to enjoy it. But oh, I’ll need your help. You said the attendees wear masks and I have no idea what kind of gown to choose to potentially seduce a stranger. And how does one do their hair for seduction? Does one rouge their lips or is that too scandalous even for this place?”
Esme laughed and got to her feet. “Come, we’ll go up to your chamber and I’ll help you with all that. And it will be one more exciting thing to discuss once we all reach the country for the wedding.”
Lily smiled as she followed her friend from the parlor, but the mention of the wedding had brought back all her thoughts and worries. And she hoped that tonight, whatever she did or didn’t do at the hell, would be a good distraction from the fears she had for her beloved sister.
CHAPTER2
Viscount George Lockhart rarely wore a mask to the Donville Masquerade. Why bother? He was known as what he was, after all—a rake.Thatwas the mask he wore publicly and had all his adult life.
And now it was over. He would ride to his father’s country estate tomorrow. A few weeks after that he would be married. It would fulfill an obligation, but…well, the whole thing felt so terribly empty. He sipped his drink and settled into a brood that made the sparkling hell a little less interesting. Or perhaps it was just that he was so jaded that the sex and sin around him didn’t mean much. It didn’t fire his blood anymore, or at least not the same way.
Sadly, neither did his future bride. He sighed as he thought of her. Miss Westinghouse, and he did only ever think of her as Miss Westinghouse, was beautiful. No one could deny that. She had a friendly face, dark blonde hair and pretty green eyes. If asked, he would have easily described her as striking, for she was undeniably that. And he feltnothingabout it. There was no zing of desire when he caught a glimpse of her across a room or when she smiled at him. There was certainly no soft, deep sense of connection like he saw between his cousin and her husband or any of his other recently married friends.
George hadn’t ever expected such a thing, of course. If someone had asked him a year ago about love he would have scoffed at the idea. It was harder to do so when one was so utterly surrounded by it as he was now. Still, deep feelings hadn’t been a criteria when it came tohischoice in a spouse.
He hadn’thadcriteria really, because he hadn’t thought much of it. Until one day a few months ago when his beloved mother had pulled him aside and told him a secret. One that broke his heart. One that drove him to do what she wanted most for him: marry. She’d already created a list of potential brides, he’d picked one with little thought when his emotions were so strong. The contracts had been signed within days and here he was now. About to make the biggest promise of his life.
“Fuck,” he grunted, and slugged back the rest of his drink.
“You look like you could use another, friend.”
He glanced up at the voice that had interrupted his brood and found Marcus Rivers approaching with a drink in hand. The proprietor of the hell was quite possibly the most interesting person George had ever met. Though he’d been raised under much different circumstances than most of his patrons, he slipped into their ranks with no difficulty. Men wanted to be like him and why not? He had swagger and confidence and an edge that could cut like a knife. He held sway over this den of inequity without raising much more than an eyebrow most nights. And he, like every other person George knew, it seemed, was desperately in love with his wife. Annabelle even helped him run the hell.
“Rivers,” he said as the other man sat at the table beside him, and together they looked over the writhing crowd of passionate attendees. Couples kissing, touching, playing games that had more to do with sex than chance. There was laughter on the air and desire along with it.
“You don’t appear very happy for a man who is about to take a bride,” Rivers said after a moment.
George snorted. “I’d say you were a mind reader, but I don’t think I’ve kept my expression schooled well tonight.”
“If it’s not something you desire, then I’m sorry about it, Lockhart,” Rivers said. “Truly. Your world doesn’t always allow for deeper feeling or passion, I know.”
“You’ll be extra sorry soon, I think, for I know I’m one of your best patrons and I won’t be attending the masquerade much anymore. If at all.”
“No?” Rivers asked, his eyebrows lifting in what seemed like surprise at the statement.
George shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fair to her, would it?”
Rivers gave a slight smile. “Ah, I knew you were a good man under all that rakish charm. So you intend to be a faithful husband, do you?”
