Chapter 1 #2
She was in no hurry, though she did find herself curious to see the woman who had intruded into her lair. She so rarely encountered ladies of quality, just their husbands. Or occasionally those women that were hiding their own guilty pleasures. But they were few and far between.
She opened the parlor door and stepped inside.
She found her intruder just as she thought she might, standing in front of the west wall of the room, staring at the wallpaper.
It was red and had intricate designs of couples locked in erotic positions.
Simone had commissioned it years ago and loved watching visitors discover the secret.
Mrs. Banfield’s mouth was slightly dropped open as she stared.
When she turned with a start to fully face her hostess, nothing else was what Simone had imagined in her head. This was not some matronly widowed aunt with somber frowns and severe hair and gown. This woman was…well, stunning was not enough of a descriptor.
She had thick dark hair, pulled back simply, but still beautifully so that it framed the most gorgeous face Simone had ever had the privilege to look upon.
She had high, fine cheekbones, brown eyes with an amber highlight to them that almost made them glow in the sunlight coming in from the window.
Her lips were full and she had a slightly imperfect nose that somehow made her entire face go from simply beautiful to unforgettable.
Simone realized she wasn’t breathing and shook her reaction away. “Mrs. Banfield, I presume,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.
Great God, what was wrong with her? She’d seen beautiful women before. She’d gone to bed with beautiful women before. And here she was like an inexperienced miss with an unexpected schoolgirl crush.
“Y-Yes,” Mrs. Banfield choked out, her gaze fluttering up and down Simone’s form in a hesitant sweep. “I-I was expecting…” She trailed off and shook her head. “Good afternoon, Miss—Miss—”
Simone chuckled. “Don’t hurt yourself, Mrs. Banfield. My name is Simone Stanhope. This is my home and you are welcome in it.” She extended a hand and waited.
Most ladies would have refused to shake it, they would have recoiled or dodged and become uncomfortable. But to Simone’s surprise, Mrs. Banfield stepped forward and took it.
Simone rarely wore gloves and Mrs. Banfield seemed to have removed hers upon arrival, so the touch was skin on skin. Simone was shocked at the electric thrill that followed. She all but snatched her hand away. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Banfield?”
Mrs. Banfield’s brows knitted together and the surprise and discomfort faded away from her face, replaced by a line of steel that Simone hadn’t been expecting.
“I wouldn’t normally be so direct, but in this I must. I’m here to see Arabella Comerford. I think you know that, as I said it to your butler upon my arrival.”
“Very direct,” Simone said with a light laugh. Now she was getting comfortable. This was the dance, after all. No one did it better than she did. “Arabella, you say?”
Mrs. Banfield’s full lips pursed and a flash of annoyance came over that beautiful face. “She’s my niece. I should have said that. I apologize, I’m a little…a little flustered.” Once again Mrs. Banfield’s gaze moved over Simone.
Simone took a step back. She was imagining that flutter of interest. It wasn’t there. Or perhaps this woman was very good at manipulating with her looks and flirtations. Many of her rank were forced to be, even as they judged courtesans for performing the very same machinations.
“And you think Arabella is here,” Simone said carefully.
“I…oh.” Mrs. Banfield’s face fell. “She—she sent me a message very early this morning, telling me she was here and not to worry. Did I misunderstand? I hope I didn’t. I will run wild if I don’t know she is safe after she fled my home.”
Simone tilted her head. That statement sounded…real. Like the true love and worry of a beloved family member. There was something sweet about this woman. Kind, perhaps? Simone had been forced to learn how to spot hard edges in strangers, but to find gentle curves so swiftly was…something.
“Let me go ascertain if the young woman is in residence,” Simone said.
Mrs. Banfield arched one of those remarkably fine brows. “You don’t know?”
Simone laughed. “Oh, come now, my dear, you know how this works. It’s the same here as in your world.”
“You mean she might not wish to see me,” Mrs. Banfield said softly. “You’re going to ask her.”
Simone said nothing but inclined her head and waited for the explosion of entitlement she expected to follow despite all the softness and kindness she was finding in the stranger in her parlor.
All that went away in many of this woman’s rank when they were denied what they felt they deserved, or were even owned.
Instead, Mrs. Banfield took a hard seat in one of Simone’s chairs and rubbed a hand over her face. “I-I suppose that’s fair. And kind of you to think of what she would want. Few in her life have done so.”
Simone’s lips parted in surprise at that acknowledgement and found herself softening her own tone in response. “While you wait, please help yourself to a drink.”
She waved her hand toward the sideboard, which was loaded with many spirits and few of them were without alcohol.
“Th-thank you.”
Simone inclined her head and went to find Arabella. She didn’t think the refined woman in her parlor would take a drink at so early a time of the day, but time would tell. That stirring of interest she’d felt when she first stepped into the room rose in her chest again, but she pushed it aside.
One could appreciate a woman’s fine face without ever doing anything about it. To think she would or could was foolish.