The Viscount and the Heiress

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The Viscount and the Heiress Page 9

by Dominique Eastwick


  “You hesitate, why?”

  “Not many of your class have your figure.”

  True enough, her voluptuous figure could give her away. She wasn’t classically thin with the long neck that the true beauties of the ton possessed. Big bosoms and large hips were her lot in life. Llysa liked her cake and it showed. Food and she were old friends. She had always found happiness in it when she could find it nowhere else. During her first season, she’d nearly starved herself to lose a stone, but it had done little good. Only one marriage proposal from a despot who needed nothing but her money had come her way. Before Llysa could even turn down the proposal, her aunt declared she would disinherit her if her niece considered saying yes. Thank goodness. She had always been her favorite relative.

  Now, she led a quiet life, keeping her aunt company, reading more books than she could imagine, and eating the delights the kitchen staff prepared for her. That wasn’t to say she did nothing all day. The hours of her days quickly filled between her charitable work, and walks in the park—several a day in fact, even in the rain, with no one around to stop her. She accompanied her aging aunt wherever she wanted to go. But Llysa wanted, nay needed, to know what it would be like to be a woman for one night. Then maybe—she met her reflection in the mirror with a wicked grin—maybe one day she could take a secret lover and he would love her more than the moon.

  “You’re daydreaming again. I can see it in your eyes,” Anna scolded.

  “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize to me. Your aunt left for the ball fifteen minutes ago. If you are going to sneak out, I suggest you get to it. The rest of the servants are about to sit down for dinner.”

  “Madame Eve sent a carriage?”

  “It’s waiting around back. I have the address in case I need to find you. The coachman will wait for one hour after dropping you off in case you change your mind, and will bring you home before sunrise. But he assured me the staff at your destination will be able to find him if at any time you wish to leave.”

  “Fair enough. And, Anna…thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. You may very well be cursing me for letting you do this, tomorrow.” She picked up Llysa’s long mantle.

  “We will deal with tomorrow when it comes.”

  Anna nodded then peeked out into the hall. Motioning for Llysa to follow her, she made her way wordlessly through the large house. As expected, all the servants were in the dining room in the lower level, none wandering about. They had hours until their mistress would return.

  Exiting through the servant’s entrance in the back, Llysa embraced Anna before hopping into the unmarked carriage. Only inside did she don her mask and belatedly wonder what she had gotten herself into.

  Madame Evangeline, the woman of myth, talked about in hushed whispers, yet no one really knew who she was, and none spoke of her in polite circles. Llysa had first learned of the woman three years earlier, overhearing two women discuss her in the retiring room at a garden party. Anna, ever her champion, had made discreet enquires about Madame Eve at Llysa’s request. What began as a way to feed both her and her maid’s curiosity eventually turned into a desire to hire the matchmaker’s services. On her twenty-fifth birthday, and now firmly nailed to the shelf, Llysa had decided to find out what she offered and how much. Madame guaranteed one night with a man well-suited to her desires, and with complete discretion.

  The fee might not be cheap but Llysa had saved her allowance and had nothing better to spend it on. So, when the letter addressed to her, sealed with red wax and embossed with an E, had been delivered, there had been no going back.

  As London passed by, she closed her eyes and let the rocking hackney ease her into rest. If the evening went the way she hoped, she would be having a sleepless night.

 

 

 


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