Page 21 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
“The gown next,” Dolly said.
Of course—that was part of Celeste’s metamorphosis. She stood and her maid helped her into a dress. Once, when Celeste had been desperate to escape from her sedate, modest wardrobe, she’d ordered this gown from Madame Jacqueline, but herfather had forbidden her from wearing it due to its phenomenally low bodice and the bright emerald satin fabric that clung to her body. In the intervening year since she’d had the gown made, she had gained some weight, so it was even more figure-hugging than before, her breasts pushing up into the neckline.
She had once dreamt of stepping into a ball wearing this dress, fantasizing about all the scandalized looks she’d receive, perhaps even some attention combined with flirtatiously wicked repartee. Those dreams and fantasies had to be packed away, like the gown, because of her father’s decree.
With her wig, her cosmetics, and this entirely improper gown, she hardly recognized herself. But now she was to give free rein to all her most forbidden wishes, with this gown as the passport to a secret, midnight world.
“Your father and brother would suffer an apoplexy if they saw you in this,” Dolly said cheerfully.
“Thank goodness theyaren’tgoing to see me,” Celeste answered. Hopefully, since Dom was supposed to reform, he’d avoid all the places she intended to go.
The clock on her mantel chimed quarter to midnight. She had fifteen minutes to make her escape from her house and meet Kieran at the designated rendezvous point. Dolly handed her a dark hooded cloak, and Celeste’s heart pounded as she draped it over her shoulders. Nerves danced along her skin, her mouth going dry.
“I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” she murmured, adjusting the hood so that it covered her wig.
“About time, too,” Dolly answered. “The short leash your family’s got you on would choke a hound.”
Celeste quirked a brow. “Did you just call me a bitch?”
“I don’t even know the meaning of the word, miss,” her maid said pertly. “Now let’s get you out of the house.”
Opening her bedchamber door, Celeste peered into the hallway. A footman bearing a lamp made a patrol down the corridor, and she ducked back into her room until the servant passed. Once he was gone, she eased out into the hall, with Dolly close at her heels. Both Celeste and her maid crept through the dark, using their sense of touch to guide them as they inched down the back stairs.
Dolly took the lead once they reached the ground floor. The door to the butler’s pantry stood open, casting light into the corridor. Mr. Mooney, the butler, had to be up late, going over the latest order to restock the wine cellar. Dolly pushed Celeste deeper into the shadows as she craned her neck for a better look, causing Celeste to jostle against a broom that had been left in the hallway. It fell to the floor with a clatter that sent ice through Celeste’s veins.
Her adventure was over before it had even begun.
“Who’s there?” the butler’s voice rang out.
“’Tis Dolly,” her maid said, stepping into the doorway of the pantry. She moved farther into the room, and from Celeste’s vantage point she could see Dolly standing in front of Mr. Mooney’s desk. “I saw a rough-looking character loitering in the mews this afternoon, and thought you might like to know.”
As her maid spoke, Celeste took advantage of Mr. Mooney’s distraction and hurried past the open door as noiselessly as possible.
“Thank you, Dolly,” he said. “I shall have Sam and Henry keep a lookout in case he comes back. But shouldn’t you be abed? Miss Celeste rises fairly early.”
Hearing her name on the butler’s lips, unease slithered through Celeste. The risk she was taking was considerable, and the punishment would no doubt be severe if word reached her father that she’d been caught sneaking out of the house in an immodest disguise. Her father had never had cause to punish her, so she’d no idea what it might actually entail, but Ned Kilburn could be a ruthless man in his business dealings and it stood to reason that he’d be similarly severe when it came to the discipline of his children.
Given what Dom was being coerced into doing, Celeste could only imagine what she’d have to endure.
“I was worried about that man skulking,” Dolly answered. “But I feel better now knowing we’ve got two big bruisers of our own on the case. While I’m up, I may peek into the larder for a late-night nibble. Good night, Mr. Mooney. Don’t you stay up too late, either.”
“Good night, Dolly.”
The butler bent to his labors as the maid returned to the corridor. She motioned for Celeste to follow her as they headed toward the kitchen, and the exit that led to the outside courtyard. The way out beckoned like a hand offering freedom. Celeste tempered her impatience as Dolly checked to make certain theway was clear, and when her maid waved her forward, Celeste darted toward the exit. Dolly grabbed a hooded cloak from a peg as she stepped through the doorway.
Much as Celeste wanted to hurry out, she had to be cautious, so she opened the door slowly to ensure there would be no betraying squeak of the hinges. Cool night air met her as she crossed the threshold, welcome and liberating. Though she’d never been in the courtyard at this late hour, she couldn’t spare a moment to take in the details of a familiar place made unfamiliar.
Dolly closed the door behind them, raised her hood, and together they walked quickly down the mews. Once they were on the street, they hurried down the pavement, the darkness punctuated here and there by lamplight.
Celeste’s breath came fast and quick. Was she truly doing such an act of defiance and daring?
Her breathing sped up. What would her father think? And Dom?
She didn’t give a rat’s arse what Lord Montford thought. No—that wasn’t entirely true. He was key to her family’s status, and she couldn’t afford to scandalize the earl.
But she was here, on the street,now, and the novelty of it went to her head like wine. The pavement beneath her feet wobbled, but she kept striding forward. Doubt and fear wouldn’t slow her steps.
Since she’d come of age, she had never been on the sidewalk after nightfall—not counting the brief minute between alighting from a carriage and going inside for a dinner party or an assembly—and shelooked around eagerly to experience Hans Town in the nighttime.
