A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin_The Debutante Files

“I . . .” She shook her head, unsure of herself. What did she want?

The lady’s keen eyes studied her for several moments before saying kindly, “Perhaps you wish to leave—”

“No,” she said quickly, certain she did not want that. “For the first time in my life, I’m doing something . . . bold.” Something brave. She came here looking for a taste of adventure. She would not flee now. “I don’t want to leave before I’ve experienced anything for myself.”

“Ah. You wish for an experience. You’ve come to the right place.” Mrs. Bancroft nodded as though she understood, which was bewildering since Rosalie had yet to fully understand what it was she was looking for. Or perhaps she did know. She simply could not put it into words. Embarrassment and modesty and inexperience stopped her.

The woman in the adjoining room cried out suddenly, a great shuddering moan that reverberated on the air and sent a ripple of gooseflesh across her skin. It was like a whole army of butterflies erupted there, set loose from a cage.

“I . . .” Rosalie paused, moistening her lips. “I think I should like to be kissed . . . by someone . . .” Her voice faded beneath Mrs. Bancroft’s knowing regard.

“By someone who knows how?” she finished for her.

She nodded. “No more than that, I think . . . I’ve no wish to be ruined . . .”

“Am I to assume you’ve never been kissed before?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“We shall rectify that, then.”

“I don’t want to go beyond—”

Mrs. Bancroft nodded with alacrity. “Understood. We can find an accommodating gentleman, I’m sure.”

“Someone handsome,” Aurelia chimed in, glancing over at them as if this sudden important thought had just occurred to her. She looked at Rosalie with raised brows. “You don’t want an Archibald Lewis slobbering all over you.” She shuddered before dragging her attention back to the trysting couple, her mouth parting with continued astonishment at the scene.

“Of course.” Mrs. Bancroft nodded. “For your first kiss, we wouldn’t settle for less than a handsome man who knows what he’s about.”

Rosalie nodded as well, her face overly warm.

“And what of you, dear?” Mrs. Bancroft queried of Aurelia.

“I’m content to watch. For now.”

“Very well.” She fluttered her fingers at Rosalie, beckoning her forward. “Come along.”

With one last glance at her friend, Rosalie followed the elegant lady from the room and down the corridor to the private rooms. Mrs. Bancroft opened one door and motioned her inside.

“If you’ll wait in here, I’ll return shortly.”

Rosalie nodded, her shoulders knotting tensely.

Mrs. Bancroft hesitated at the door. “Don’t worry. I guarantee, you will enjoy yourself. That’s the promise of Sodom. Pleasure only.”

With those parting words, she slipped from the room. The door clicked softly behind her. Rosalie rotated where she stood, eyeing her room. Like the last one, dim red lighting suffused the cozy space. A bed overflowing with pillows and an inviting-looking fur blanket sat in the center. Coal glowed in the grate. After a few moments she moved to sit on the edge of the bed, folding her shivering hands in her lap, wondering how long she would have to wait . . . wondering who Mrs. Bancroft would bring with her.

Wondering if she had the courage not to flee through the door before Mrs. Bancroft returned with the man who would be her first kiss.

Dec prowled restlessly through the second floor of Sodom, moving between rooms, searching for something to satisfy the ache, the need . . . to dispel the numbness. He’d been here for a while now and was on the verge of giving up. So far, nothing had enticed him. No one. For once it did not appear he could chase away the numbness in a female’s arms. A matter of some concern, as the only thing left for him was to take another pounding in the ring.

He stepped from a room where three women had just invited him to join him on a bed. He didn’t know what he was in the mood for, but it wasn’t that.

An image of Rosalie as he’d last seen her outside his bedchamber door flashed across his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. She was not an option.

“Ah, Banbury. How good to see you.”

He smiled as Mrs. Bancroft approached. He took her hand and bowed over it, kissing the back. “Mrs. Bancroft, how good to see you and how lovely you look.” A statement both true and untrue as he had never fully seen her face. Several ladies donned masks at Sodom, but the proprietress herself was perhaps the most veiled. Her masks were always elaborate and covered half of her face. A fact that only made her more intriguing. As was the fact that her gowns were stylish but as modest as the most conservative old dames of the ton. She was a contradiction. The proprietress of a house of sin disguised and garbed modestly. Her voice was youthful, as was the trim figure covered from neck to ankle. Every man here wanted a peek under her skirts.

“You flatter, Banbury.” Her hand fluttered elegantly. “Have you not found a diversion to occupy you this eve yet?”

“Still on the hunt.” He grinned. “No worries. I shall find something to amuse myself.” Even if that something meant returning to Jackson’s for another taste of abuse.

“I may have something for you.” She smoothed a hand down the flat front of his jacket. “Someone.”

“Indeed?” His gaze skimmed her consideringly. “Would the infamous Mrs. Bancroft finally be interested in entertaining one of her patrons herself?” As attentive as the lady was to the needs of all her guests, she never once offered herself up as part of the menu. As far as he knew, no patron had sampled her favors.

“No.” Her lips curled beneath the edge of her feathered mask. “As tempting as you are . . . no, I have another proposition for you. One that I suspect might intrigue a man of your select tastes.”

“You have my attention. Continue.”

Turning, she headed down the corridor, past rooms that barely contained the cries and moans of the people within. He fell into step beside her.

“There is a young lady here . . . a novice, quite untried. She seeks nothing more than a kiss.”

He hesitated. “A kiss. Seems a bit tame for—”

“A first kiss,” she qualified. “And nothing more.”

He fell back in pace with her. He needed more than a kiss to assuage his needs.

“You would be doing me a great favor. I know your tastes run to the more experienced encounters, but does not the idea titillate? A woman’s first kiss.”

“It . . . intrigues,” he admitted. At least it would be different. Unpredictable. Little surprised him anymore. The kisses of an experienced lover had become predictable. As common in flavor as honey in his tea.

“And who knows? She might change her mind. She might want more than a kiss if you sweep her off her feet.” She slanted him a challenging look. “There is some challenge in that, is there not, Your Grace?”

His skin tightened, thinking about that. He wasn’t one of those men who relished breaking in untried misses. At least he never had been before. But the idea of Rosalie had perhaps altered his perception. Breaking her in? She’d tempted him this night. Fed his hunger in a way he had not felt in a long time. Too long.

“Why not?” He shrugged. Perhaps this would warm him up and he could sate himself on another female later.