Being Wicked. Lacy Danes

on something she didn’t understand.

      “Let’s look at you.” Grace stepped toward Lilly. “You are stunning. All the men assume you know what you are doing here. You need to be prepared to be touched.” She smiled a watery smile. “Be prepared to be shocked by the behavior you will witness this night, and if you feel you need guidance on how you might act, simply watch all the women about you.”

      Grace flourished the mask and raised it. Lilly turned about and Grace placed it over her eyes. The cool, thick fabric came down to the tip of her nose and covered her cheekbones. The ties ran over the tops of her ears, and with a few tugs, her deception was fastened.

      Lilly inhaled a deep breath. Who was she doing this for? She was doing this for Brian…for Grace…and for herself. If she was honest with herself, she was a bit curious to see what the night brought. Hidden behind this mask, she truly appeared not herself. She could simply play the part. She pushed her struggles with being here to the back of her mind.

      “Shall I show you how to place the lemon?”

      Lilly stared expectantly into Grace’s still-glossy eyes. Play the part, Lilly. “I see no harm in being prepared. I will not go as far as to need protection, but I should like you to teach me anyhow.” The information could be useful when she did wed.

      Grace smiled. “Indeed, Veronica. Every woman should know how.”

      4

      Grace

      Grace walked into the ballroom with her new friend, Veronica. Entirely transformed into a virginal tease, Veronica cautiously turned and headed in the opposite direction as Grace had instructed her. She was unrecognizable from the woman that Grace had found earlier. Her raven hair was pulled back from her face and half her face was partially hidden beneath her mask, which accentuated the innocence she possessed in abundance. The red-and-black bloomers, borrowed from Emma, were a perfect complement to the mask, as well as her white corset.

      All the men in attendance were about to see a real treat—a virgin who would act as such. Grace hoped Veronica would listen to her guidance and watch some of what happened here this night.

      Grace grasped a glass of claret off a tray as a man passed, standing back to take in the sights she had missed for the past two years.

      Her lips curved up into a smile as her eyes settled on a group of women. All of them were masked and wore little clothing. The woman in the center had golden curls that bobbed and sprang as she twirled with a tall, brown-haired girl, her short shift lifting from her body teasing a group of admiring men. Emma. Grace always enjoyed watching her. Her vibrancy for life and pleasure was evident in everything she did.

      You are not here for the women, Grace, even if you do enjoy watching them. Not masked, she turned her clear gaze to the men in the room. She needed this to put her marriage behind her and soothe her powerful yearnings, but did she have the courage to do simply that? To simply feel and remember the sensations of being touched, of being desired? Could she do so and not have her emotions get involved? Oscar had always been there, watching from that damn chair….

      She closed her eyes and saw his brown hair and deep sable eyes filled with desire lock on hers as Markus slid his cock into her from behind. She trembled. She never removed her gaze from his during any of the acts he requested she do for him. She had loved him completely. She opened her eyes again and sighed.

      What she craved could not be found here. Markus stood across the room, staring at her. He would watch her until she found a suitable man to tease—then he would find a plaything for himself. Maybe Veronica? No. Veronica was not for him. Markus would never approach, and Veronica would need to be taken, but with a gentle hand.

      Time to tease, dear Grace. From afar, she could and would titillate Markus. That was safe. That she had been taught to do well. She smiled and tilted her head to the side. Her tongue slid out and traced her upper lip. The tingling of her moisture on the plump surface made her tongue retrace its path. She winked at him.

      He inclined his head to her, then tilted it toward the two women teasing the men in the center of the room.

      He wished her to tantalize him with Emma. Of course he did. She turned her attention back to them; there was a part of her that yearned for what he asked her to do. But only Oscar had ever asked her to do anything with a woman to titillate his senses.

      Grace bit her lip at the echo of Oscar’s voice. “Flirt with them for me, Grace. I want to watch you,” rang in her head. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t bring herself to take that step forward and flirt with these women, to flirt with these men. Or could she? A shiver racked her body at the same time heat swelled in her womb.

      In her soul, she wanted something different this time, and her heart battled for that one-on-one encounter she so craved. Everyone in this room futtered with their mistresses and protectors at some point. She wanted to do the act and not have someone watching her from the chair. She closed her eyes and the carved cherrywood object sat before her. “Leave me alone,” she whispered beneath her breath, and the chair vanished.

      She wanted to futter with the man she loved. Not simply have him watch her. Tears pushed to her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

      Come on, Grace. You can have fun and flirt and then settle in for the night with one, not two or three. You know it. You simply have never done this without Oscar. Without direction.

      She inhaled a deep breath and pried her eyes open. That’s it. Look around the room, pick a protector you wish to entertain, and then flirt with Emma to win his favors for the night.

      She turned her head to the right, slowly taking in the crowded ballroom. Several groups of men and women stood laughing and drinking, but none of them gave her the prickles on the nape of her neck. Oh, indeed. She needed that reaction—that primal physical indication that simply by sighting someone, they would weave together well on the physical plane.

      She turned her head back to the left and lightning struck down her spine and her bum clenched. She shook her head to clear her vision. Winston? Was that him?

      With the wide shoulders and curl of blond hair over the collar of his fitted evening coat, it very well could be. But why would Winston Greydon be at one of Emma’s events? He had never attended one in the past, and he certainly had always appeared a one-woman kind of man. Besides, last she heard of him, he was in India. It couldn’t be him.

      You still think of him after all these years as your perfect man. No man is how you thought them back then.

      She sighed. It wouldn’t hurt to see if she could attract the attention of this man—whoever he was. Even without seeing his face, he seemed someone she would be physically a good match for this night.

      She stepped forward, in the direction of both him and Emma.

      Men and women laughed, joked, and drank. They didn’t notice her slipping through. The closer she got to him the bodies grew thicker, crowding her. She couldn’t do this. Her lungs constricted and her heart sped as her feet slowed. No…no, she needed to do this.

      Do this without Oscar.

      She glanced across the room once more to where Markus stood. His blue eyes watched her. His face wore an expression she had not seen before. He worried about her.

      As she neared the man who resembled Winston, Oscar’s words “Act like a cat playing with its food. Tease him, my dear” assaulted her. A smile curved her lips. Indeed, he was her prey for the night and she would play with him as a cat did before she devoured him.

      She purposefully brushed into Lord Kipberval—he was known for getting easily flustered—and tilted her glass, spilling some of her wine on him.

      “Watch where you tread!” The stocky, black-haired man turned toward her.

      “Pardon me, sir.” Grace placed her hand on his forearm.

      His gaze slid down her body, inspecting her in a glance. “My! You are a pretty thing. Sorry to have shouted, lovely.”

      “No