ThePleasureDevice Read Online Free Page B

deep intellectual, physical and
emotional bond.
    “Mrs. Joseph Phillips and her daughter, Miss Helena
Phillips.” The footman’s announcement when they had reached the front of the
receiving line revived Helena to her surroundings. The entry hall buzzed with
women in gowns the colors of pastels, smiling, laughing, seductively waving
fans while gazing up at men of all sizes, shapes and ages but each wearing
black evening dress. The dull glow of gas lamps and candles made everyone a
little more attractive than they probably actually were.
    As Mama and Helena exchanged greetings with Lord and Lady
Wrexham, a rather formidable older woman approached, wearing far too much lace
and reeking of expensive French perfume.
    “Oh my dear Sophie!” the lady exclaimed a bit too loudly. “Excuse
me, my lord, Lady Wrexham, I simply must have a word with my friend Mrs.
Phillips. You do not mind?”
    Clearly her forthright manner was indulged by their hosts.
Lord and Lady Wrexham said they certainly did not mind.
    She grabbed Mama’s arm affectionately before she spied
Helena. “Oh my,” she said with sudden and uncharacteristic delicacy. “This is
your daughter, is it not? She is the very image of you.” She exhaled a sigh of
marvel and approbation.
    “Thank you.” Helena curtsied, then flushed with alarm
knowing she must have done something terribly wrong. She had completely
forgotten what one did when complimented.
    “Charlotte,” Mama acknowledged with a slight bow of her
head. “Lady Banbury, this is my daughter Helena. She is just eighteen and is
enjoying her first Season.”
    Helena knew exactly who Lady Banbury was, besides of course
the wife of the Earl of Banbury. Mama had said Lady Banbury knew everybody who
was anybody and everything about them, and it was a very good idea to get to
know the countess and to do whatever she said.
    “Oh my dear,” exclaimed Lady Banbury taking Helena’s arm. “I
must introduce you around. Tell me, what have you done so far this year?”
    Helena glanced quickly at Mama, who nodded. “I’ve been
presented to the queen.”
    “Of course you have. I remember when I was presented. Mind
you, it was the same queen.” Lady Banbury’s high-pitched laugh put Helena a
little more at ease.
    “We’ve been to the Royal Academy exhibition,” Helena
continued.
    “Ah.” The countess nodded. “Their new president, Sir
Frederic Leighton, is well represented.”
    “Yes,” Mama agreed. “Someone compared his Biondina to
Helena.”
    Lady Banbury inspected Helena with new interest. “Yes, I
think so,” she mused. “So my dear, I suppose you are here to find a husband—”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Helena cringed, realizing she had interrupted.
    “Good!” Lady Banbury seemed blissfully unaware of any faux
pas. “Let me think of some fine young men.” She looked around the ballroom,
humming yeas and nays as she spotted various candidates.
    With the brash countess at her side, Helena was herself
emboldened to scan the room. The sights, the smells, the sounds were wondrous. The
finery and the spectacle of the fashions, the glitter of jewelry and crystal in
the dim light, the low indistinct hum of conversation and music—
    It all vanished when she saw him.
    He was tall, elegant in his evening attire, which fit
perfectly on his athletic form. His hair was brown—no, something romantic like
chestnut…no, something darker…maybe…mahogany. Yes, that’s what it was, dark and
sleek and smooth to the touch like gloved fingers sliding along a polished
mahogany table. Or perhaps a rich dark frame highlighting the handsomest face
she had ever seen, made even handsomer by his obviously affectionate rapport
with the woman at his side. He was too far away to see his eyes, but Helena had
a very wicked notion of those eyes gazing at her, twinkling with admiration and
invitation. Brown. His eyes must be a chocolaty brown.
    “Lady Banbury,” Helena dared to ask, “who is that tall man
with brown hair