Page 23 of The Seduction of Viscount Vice

Surely.

About to step out and join the crowds, Mairi stilled as she watched a lone woman alighting from a hackney cast furtive glances left and right, then walk toward the front steps. The guest wore a pale peach gown and a golden Venetian mask in the shape of a cat, but there was something very familiar about the shade of her golden hair. Not to mention the flesh of her neck and the rosebud of her mouth looked altogether too fresh for a pleasure club patron. Bloody hell. It couldn’t be Iain’s baby sister. Could it?

Narrowing her gaze, Mairi marched forward and held out her hand. “Welcome, my lady.”

“Thank you,” replied the young woman, her effort to disguise her Highland burr admirable but thoroughly unsuccessful. “Just through here, is it?”

“I think not.”

“Er, I beg your pardon?”

Mairi circled her wrist and tugged Lady Helena Parkton into her dressing antechamber. “What on earth do you think you are doing, Hellion?”

The girl’s mouth dropped open. “What did you just call me?”

“Hellion. Because it seems absolutely nothing has changed in a decade. Do Lord and Lady Parkton know you are attempting to run amok? Does your brother?”

“Oh my God…yes, it is you! Lady Mairi MacNair!”

“Quite,” said Mairi in her best attempt at a headmistress voice to quell the excitement in Helena’s.

The young woman’s shoulders immediately slumped, and, as she pulled off her mask, Mairi blinked. Good grief. Helena had looked beautiful arriving at the Castlereaghs’ ball, but close up, she was exquisite. Iain was right to be uneasy if she was always this daring.

“That was not a promising quite, Lady Mairi. And of course I wasn’t planning to run amok, obviously. Just watch for a bit and then leave before anyone knew I was even here.”

“And why do you think for a moment that I would let you do that?”

Helena glared at her. “Really? The lady who ruined herself with a viscount to end her engagement to an earl and then ran away to France with a footman has turned puritan?”

“My actions were foolish in the extreme. Trust me on that,” said Mairi with a heartfelt sigh. “I lost everything I held dear.”

“But now you have it back again.”

Her eyes burned. Helena knew nothing. “To some extent. But I’m twenty-nine years old, not eighteen. Don’t be a featherbrain, sweetheart.”

“Pah. You are as much a hypocrite as Vice. Do you know how many homes I’m not welcome in because of him? Yet he won’t let me within twenty feet of Fallen. I thought you, at least, might have some sympathy. I wasn’t planning to take part. Just look inside, have a glass of champagne, and maybe watch a show. Please, Mairi. I don’t want to be one of those twits who goes to the marriage bed knowing nothing. It’s so demeaning.”

She winced. “Your mother will talk to you before your wedding night.”

“Nonsense. She is as stuffy as my brother when it comes to me knowing anything even a wee bit naughty. Please, Mairi. May I just watch some dancing? Then I’ll go straight home.”

Gritting her teeth, Mairi turned her severest look on the girl, but she could feel herself weakening. Bloody hell, it was 1814. Why young ladies still had to be completely ignorant when it came to the bedchamber, she had no idea. And Helena was well old enough to be wed. “I’m going to be onstage soon. You can help me dress and watch my performance. Then you leave; no temper, no grumbling.”

Helena squealed and hugged her fiercely. “Mairi! You’re splendid. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“I already do,” she mumbled. “Now undo my buttons, if you please.”

Soon after, Mairi peered in the looking glass and, despite everything, anticipation was building. Her legs were encased in sheer black stockings and tied with red rose garters. Her meagre breasts had been made to look quite curvy with the assistance of stays with discreet sewn-in padding. The final part of her costume was an old-fashioned green gown with several petticoats to make it flounce.

“Stop woolgathering!” said a sharp voice behind her. “You are due onstage.”

Mairi smiled. “I’m nearly ready, Yvette. Two minutes.”

“Oh, that gown is going to look wonderful!” Helena clapped her hands in delight.

Taking a calming breath, Mairi held up her arms, and Helena and Yvette slipped the gown over her head. It swished down to her waist. Then stopped.

Frowning in dismay, she gently tugged at the fabric. Then harder. But it was stuck at her hips.