AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’ve not an impressive wardrobe,” Mildred said as Bhadra opened the trunk.
“Fine clothing is hardly necessary here, miss. Some guests go without clothing at all.”
Mildred imagined what it might be like to walk about in the buff. She had not the confidence to do such a thing but was impressed there were those who would. She wondered how she would react if she came across a nude? How did one stop oneself from staring?
“Even at supper?” Mildred asked.
“Not the first night, lest Madame requests it so.”
Mildred faltered. She could not conceive of sitting down to supper sans clothing. How could one concentrate enough to eat? She hoped Madame would not make such a thing mandatory. Mildred would not mind if others wished to shed their garments, but she had no desire to parade her nakedness. If she had a body worth revealing, she might feel differently. Instead, her thighs were a bit wide in proportion to the rest of her legs, there was a tad too much swell to her belly, and she would have preferred a less buxom bosom.
With Bhadra, she undressed from her traveling clothes and selected her finest muslin for supper, the same dress she had worn for Lady Katherine’s soiree. It was a simple gown of white with lace at the hem and a lavender sash. In the spirit of the debauchery, Mildred wore only two layers of petticoat. Bhadra had laced her stays extremely tight and this caused her breasts to swell above the décolletage more than usual.
“Do you wish for powder?” Bhadra asked after finishing the coiffure, leaving a few tendrils to frame the face.
Recalling Alastair’s comments from the soiree the other night, Mildred shook her head. After applying rouge to her lips, she looked in the vanity and was pleased with what she saw. She looked as pretty as Mildred Abbott could look.
“Monsieur Laroutte will escort you to supper,” Bhadra informed.
“Who is Monsieur Laroutte?”
“Madame Follet’s brother.”
Monsieur Laroutte was at least ten years Madame’s senior, but Mildred found the man captivating. They conversed in French, and by the time they had reached the dining room, Mildred decided she would be quite pleased to be paired with the man. However, after seeing that she was seated at the table, he sat at the end of the table opposite where Madame sat at the head, and began conversing with a superbly dressed gentleman to his left. By the manner in which the two men exchanged glances and leaned toward each other, Mildred wondered if they might possibly be lovers.
Looking at the rest of the company about the table, she saw the couple she had witnessed earlier, and immediately a warmth recalled itself into her loins. The man seemed to feel her gaze and looked in her direction. He winked. Mildred flushed to the roots of her hair and quickly looked down at her soup.
Good heavens. She supposed she ought not feel chagrinned, but the more outlandish aspects of the château required some acclimating. Despite her discomfort, she found herself more eager than ever to engage in the château’s purpose. With a life of married ennui before her, she ought to soak in what Château Follet offered.
“Forgive me for introducing myself,” the man to her right said, “though we do dispense with the customary formalities here at Château Follet.”
“Indeed? I would not have guessed,” Mildred replied.
The man smiled in seeming appreciation. “Charming. I must have your name?”
"Miss, er, Abbey."
"Miss Abbey, a pleasure. I am the Viscount Devon."
"Pleased to meet you, my lord.”
“You are new to me. Is this your first time?"
"Yes."
With interest, he turned his body farther toward her. "Then you are in for quite a delight."
Happy to have someone to talk to and hopeful that she would not have to spend the evening in her own company, she gave him her most winning smile. Though barely average in height, Lord Devon was quite attractive with his golden locks and bright blue eyes.
He looked to see who sat to her left. It was a woman of striking beauty. Mildred expected he would attempt to make the acquaintance of the woman beside her, but he returned his gaze to her.
“Are you here with someone?” he asked.
“No, I am alone.”
“As am I.”
The palpitation of her heart quickened. Could this debonair man—a Viscount, if he gave his name truthfully—possibly be interested in her?
