* * *
Lizzie looked around for her husband. The viscount had disappeared. Why had she thought he cared enough to dance attendance on her? He was a Felmont and was probably off with a demi-rep instead of waiting for her.
A footman approached to tell her Lord Felmont had gone upstairs. It was past midnight. Did Dace mean to keep her to their pact in the midst of all this glorious music?
She hurried up to her bedroom, stopping to light a candle from a lamp burning in a sconce at the turn of the stairs. The sounds of the party muted, only a faint refrain of song floated up with her.
A little hot wax dripped on her fingers as Lizzie counted the doors to find her room.
The window let in enough moonlight for her to see the viscount’s beaded tunic glistening, entwined with some pale cloth, on the end of the bed.
The soles of his naked feet and the backs of his long naked legs drew her gaze up the bed to his buttocks. Pumping, thrusting, as pale fingertips caressed the sides of his naked back. A woman’s black luxuriant hair draped over the pillows in a swathe of raven waves.
Lizzie staggered with shock. She stumbled over a pair of high-heeled slippers lying on the floor, where they had been kicked off in the heat of passion. The candlelight reflected on their gilt bows.
She gave a mew of anguish. She cried out, “Beast!” How could he? She hoped he burned in hell for an eternity.
Burned!
Lizzie thrust her candle towards the thrusting buttocks.
She grasped one of his ankles to steady herself.
The flame sizzled his flesh. The Beast gave a muffled moan. Lizzie ground her candle out on the curve of his buttock. The muscle clenched, and yet he didn’t stop but thrust even faster.
The woman’s hands gripped the Beast’s waist. A strange sound came from her, a moan of anguish or of ecstasy.
Lizzie threw the candle at his head and lingered only long enough to see it bounce of his back. She cried out, “Fornicating Felmont!” She picked up the harlot’s slippers to fling them after the candle.
What use was there in watching them sin in the darkness?
Lizzie gave a great sob and fled.
She ran down the stairs and out the door into the hall. The footman looked at her as if she were mad. She stopped long enough to slap his face for his part in the plot to humiliate her. The first time she had ever struck a servant.
She ran towards the darkness, away from the voices, away from the music and the light, stopping only to vomit behind a bush.
Damn him to everlasting hellfire! She hoped he burned in hell for an eternity!
Lizzie Tempest Ruins A Viscount (Felmont Brides Series Book 1) Page 40