Page 82 of Tempting Her Viscount

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After concluding the detailed conversation with her brother—of which she feared she’d never succeed to block from her mind—Celia determined she needed a woman’s help. Men were either too vague or descriptive to the point of unsettling her stomach. Damn her brother.

Having no married friends, Celia considered the Duchess of Roxburghe for a brief moment as her husband was friends with Celia’s brother, but she worried the duchess, having a husband who clearly doted on her, had no need for such mechanics as seduction.

Instead, she found herself knocking on the door of the one woman she knew could assist her.

A strapping footman opened the door. He didn’t wear the livery she was accustomed to seeing when visiting other homes in town. He wore a normal waistcoat and cravat, but lacked a shirt.

He seemed to preen under her gaze and she looked away after handing the man her calling card. “One moment, I’ll see if my mistress is at home.”

As Celia waited in the elaborate foyer decorated with paintings of naked couples in provocative poses, she wondered if this were a terrible mistake. Before she’d had a chance to flee, the footman returned with a smile. “You may enter.”

Celia stepped into what she assumed was a drawing room. She hadn’t been inside this room when she’d visited previously. The heavy drapes were pulled shut giving the illusion of night despite it being two in the afternoon.

Lady Harrington smiled and stood to greet Celia. She was wearing a dressing gown and from the low gape in front it didn’t appear she had anything on underneath. Her white-blonde hair was loose and disheveled, and her cheeks sported a bit of color as if she’d been out in the cold and just returned indoors.

Celia was late to realize she’d seen the same coloring on her own cheeks after she and Kit had made love. She glanced toward another footman lounging shirtless on a settee.

“Please leave us women to our visit, Marcus,” Lady Harrington said. The man immediately stood and bowed to them before leaving. “Should we have tea? I rarely get visits from proper ladies, I’m afraid I’m ill prepared.” She held up a glass of amber-colored liquid.

“I would love a glass of whatever you’re drinking.” Celia hoped it was brandy. She could use something to smooth this conversation.

“It’s whiskey,” Lady Harrington said.

Celia nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

With a shrug, the woman got up herself and poured a glass. She presented it to Celia and they both sat on the settee that had moments ago supported a large, shirtless, footman.

“Whatever can I do for you, Lady…?”

“It’s Lady Hamlin, but please call me Celia. I’m afraid you would only know me as Selene.”

The other woman blinked and then smiled. “Ah! I wondered who you really were. I’d tracked you to using Lord Penbrook’s invitation, but I was at a loss.”

“My brother, Lord Penbrook, was ill the night of your fête so I took the liberty of using his invitation since he could not.”

“I see, and I assume you enjoyed yourself at my masquerade?”

“I did indeed.”

“I won’t have another until late in the fall, but I’ll be sure to send you your own invitation for my next gathering.”

“Thank you, I look forward to it,” Celia said, unsure of what else to say. With the allure of privacy now gone she felt rather exposed. There was no way she could attend.

“And what can I do for you today, Celia?”

“Since attending your party, I’ve decided I’d like to take a lover.”

“The man you were with that night inquired about you. Lord Stormont would be glad to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes. Actually, I know Christopher rather well as he and my brother are close friends. We’ve since realized who we were, and what we did… together… that night.” Celia couldn’t help but glance toward the door in the direction of that room where her entire life had changed for the better. “We were already friends. And became… closer after our revelation.”

Her smile could only be considered cat-like. “I must ask, how is he? I’ve never had the pleasure, but he seems as though he’d be attentive to his partner’s needs.”

Celia coughed and nodded without looking the woman in the eyes. “Uh, yes. Quite attentive. Very good.” Better than good, but she was afraid if she provided more details, she might catch fire. Did women truly speak of such things when in private?

“No need to be shy in my home. This is a safe place for whatever pleasures you may desire.” Was the woman looking at Celia’s breasts? “How may I assist?”