The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(10)

“See? And you were worried! Let’s dance for a bit.”

Nellie found an open spot and the two of them began to jump and spin, dancing until time blurred, one song after the next. Men came and went, stopping to whirl and chat before moving along. The atmosphere was friendly and loose, nothing like the uptight High Society balls. A scantily dressed woman showed them how to can-can, which drew a round of applause from those nearby—including some gentlemen sitting in the private boxes.

“Look over your right shoulder, in the box above,” Nellie said over the music. “There’s your king.”

“What?” Katherine peeked at the private boxes hovering over the floor. A man dressed in the manner of a courtly French king—either Louis XV or XVI—was staring at her, his dark eyes glittering from behind a white mask. Atop his head sat a white wig, his shoulders and chest encased in a fine navy suit embroidered with silver thread. Her heart skipped once as their gazes locked, the intensity of him causing the breath to catch in her lungs. How long had he been watching her?

Facing Nellie once more, she said, “How funny. Should I go say bonsoir?”

“Definitely not. There are too many men here to settle for a despot hiding behind a mask and wig.”

“He’s probably married.”

“Probably,” Nellie agreed, then pointed to the wine gallery. “Let’s go up and get a drink.”

Absolutely parched, Katherine nodded. “Lead the way, your majesty.”

The second-floor corridor was dark but crowded. Faceless couples lurked in the shadows, clearly engaged in scandalous activity. They passed a man with his head buried under a woman’s skirts, while beyond, a woman was on her knees, a man’s hips rocking toward her face. Neptune, complete with gold tights and a trident, was kissing one of the founding fathers against a pillar. A second later a young woman with her breasts bared ran past, laughing, as a pirate chased her down the hall.

Nellie’s attention never wavered, seemingly taking it all in stride, while Katherine couldn’t help but stare. She’d never seen intimacy firsthand, in public or in private.

It did look fun, though.

Once in the wine gallery, they settled in with champagne. The first glass disappeared quickly, so Katherine grabbed them refills. Then they took their drinks into the stands to watch the action below. The hour had grown late and the crowd was growing rowdy. Gents tossed women into the air, catching them, and people climbed in and out of the boxes freely. The straps of many a costume had slipped and bosoms were exposed without any apparent hesitation. Shirtless men were there, as well, rubbing against other dancers.

“This is unbelievable,” Katherine said. “What a night.”

“It’s not over yet,” Nellie said. “You still need to find your affair.”

Katherine’s gaze drifted back toward King Louis, who was alone in his box, drinking something clear out of a crystal tumbler. Her stomach fluttered, which was a ridiculous reaction to a complete stranger. The man was probably cheating on his wife. “It’s fine if I don’t find him tonight.” She turned to the crowd. “This has given me inspiration, certainly.”

Nellie finished her glass of champagne. “If by inspiration you mean fantasies for when you touch yourself, then I agree.”

Before Katherine could reprimand her friend for saying such an outrageous thing, a woman in red tights and a corset leaned in, albeit unsteadily. “Hear, hear!” she slurred loudly. “They’re always much better lovers in our minds than they are in real life, ain’t they?”

“Indeed,” Nellie said with a chuckle. “Unless you tell them precisely what to do!”

Their new friend found that humorous, and she passed Nellie the bottle of wine from her hand. “I like you, Queen Elizabeth.”

“Thank you,” Nellie said, even though it was the wrong monarch. “And I you, madam.”

“Madam!” The woman snorted. “Ain’t that rich.” Her companion, a man in a black domino, wrapped his arms around her and began tugging her away. Their friend waved goodbye, giggling the entire time.

Nellie held up her empty coupe. “I’m ready for another drink.”

A man approached them while they were waiting in line. He was fit, slightly older, with an elegant silk mask tied around his head. “Bonsoir, Marie,” he said in a heavily accented French voice as he bowed in Nellie’s direction. “I have been searching everywhere for you, mon petit chou.”

“Adrian, hello.” Nellie moved in to kiss both his cheeks. “May I introduce my friend?”

“Madame de Pompadour,” Katherine said and held out her hand. “It is nice to meet you.”

He kissed Katherine’s knuckles. “I understand. We must hold up these pretenses in your restrictive society, non? I am Adrian.”

“This is my fencing instructor,” Nellie said.

“Ah. It’s nice to meet you.”

After receiving their champagne, the trio moved into the corridor, where Adrian and Nellie began flirting shamelessly. Katherine not only felt a bit superfluous but also like she was hindering her friend’s fun.

“I’m going to walk around for a bit,” she told Nellie. “I’ll find you later.”

“Are you certain?” Nellie stepped away from Adrian and pulled Katherine aside. “Are we making you uncomfortable? I can send Adrian away.”