Chapter 9: Pleasure and Power

I emerged from the trials of blackmail and deception more determined and careful than ever. Summer's arrival found me at the height of my influence: flush with coin, draped in finery, and adept at the subtle manipulations required to keep my affairs in harmony. I had placated Marielle with payments that pinched but did not break me, and cleverly convinced Baron d'Arcy to send a stipend her way out of "kindness," thus fulfilling my bargain. The crisis had been managed; now I turned my eyes toward the future.

With two powerful patrons under my spell, I allowed myself to savor the pleasures of my position as well. What was the point of power if one could not also delight in it? Ensconced in my elegant townhouse, I hosted intimate salons—gatherings of carefully selected artists, philosophers, and libertines where conversation and wine flowed freely. Nicolas enjoyed these nights, watching proudly as I sparred intellectually with his peers or performed a moving aria that left them applauding. Etienne, too, attended a few incognito, marveling at my ease in such elevated company. In these moments I felt like a queen in my own small court, presiding with charm and shrewd wit.

Yet the most dramatic demonstration of my balancing act came on a sultry evening at a private masquerade ball hosted by the Duke de Valette—one of Baron d'Arcy's closest associates and a man known for his decadent tastes. The invitation was extended to Nicolas "and his enchanting lady," and so it was that I found myself entering the opulent Valette estate on the Baron's arm, my face half-concealed by an ornate butterfly mask of black and gold.

The grand ballroom was transformed into a dream of classical vice: frescoes of mythic lovers on the ceilings, soft candlelight haloing the revelers, and everywhere masked nobles mingling with the most renowned courtesans and actresses of the city. It was understood that here, titles were checked at the door; anonymity and indulgence reigned.

Excitement thrummed in my veins. This was a world I had only heard whispers of—a rarified circle where pleasure and power danced hand in hand, and I was finally among its players.

I wore a daring gown of emerald-green silk that hugged my curves, and I felt many eyes upon me as we moved through the crowd. Some likely recognized "Madame V" despite the mask, others simply felt the force of confidence I exuded. By now I had fully grown into my allure; I could turn a head with a mere languid glance or a sultry laugh.

Nicolas, dressed as a Venetian noble in black brocade and a silver half-mask, was clearly proud to have me on his arm. He kept me close, introducing me to a few key figures—some I had already come to know at my salons. A viscount here, a foreign ambassador there... and at one point, to my great surprise, the King's own brother, Prince Adrien, who attended in disguise but whose identity was an open secret given the deference others showed him. The Prince's appreciative gaze lingered on me as we exchanged pleasantries, and I felt a spark of intrigue. Here was a man whose notice could elevate a woman to extraordinary heights—or ruin her just as swiftly. I bowed my head respectfully, noting how his eyes trailed down the line of my neck and settled on the swell of my bosom with frank interest. A seed of possibility planted itself in my mind unbidden.

As the night deepened, the revelry grew bolder. Champagne flowed, music turned sensual, and inhibitions slipped away like discarded cloaks. Couples (and trios) drifted into shadowy corners behind pillars or out onto the moonlit terrace gardens for more private amusements. I too felt the heady rush of freedom beneath the mask. Here I was not a disgraced daughter, nor a secret-keeping mistress; I was simply a woman of desire amid others of like mind.

Nicolas, warmed by drink and my constant affection, grew amorous. During a pause in dancing, he guided me out to the edge of the terrace, where fragrant jasmine climbed a secluded trellis. Masked guests strolled nearby, but in the darkness we might as well have been alone. With a mischievous smile, the Baron pressed me against the marble balustrade, his hands sliding over the curve of my hips.

"You outshine every star tonight, ma chère," he murmured, kissing along my exposed shoulder. His fingers deftly found the slit in my gown's skirts and brushed along my thigh. I let out a soft giggle, pleasantly flushed with champagne and arousal.

"And you, monsieur, are incorrigible," I teased, though I tilted my head to grant him better access to my neck.

We had never been brazen in semi-public like this, but the masked atmosphere emboldened us both. I felt a thrill at the risk of it—hidden by night and costume, yet potentially visible if someone looked just so. It was the kind of deliciously forbidden scenario that once would have scandalized me; now it only heightened my excitement.

Nicolas's hand slipped between my thighs, finding the damp heat through my silk drawers. I bit back a moan as he stroked me slowly, the fabric a thin barrier. "You're already wet, minx," he whispered against my ear. "Do you enjoy the thought that someone might see how well I pleasure you?"

In truth, yes. Power and exhibition intertwined; knowing I had him enthralled enough to take such liberties here was a potent aphrodisiac. I arched into his touch, breathing, "I enjoy anything you do to me right now…"

His eyes gleamed behind his mask. With a growl of desire, he tugged the delicate lace of my bodice down, freeing one breast to the warm summer air. Before I could protest, his mouth closed around my nipple, suckling firmly. I gasped, grasping his shoulders for support as a jolt of pleasure shot through me. The distant sound of laughter and music seemed to fade, my world narrowing to the wicked things his tongue was doing and the fingers now pushing aside my soaked undergarment to tease my bare flesh.

I surrendered to sensation, one hand flying up to clasp over my mouth as he slid a finger inside me, pumping slowly while his thumb rubbed that aching pearl at my apex. The scandal of it—being fingered by my lover at a duke's ball, one breast exposed to the night—sent me spiraling. I couldn't cry out my release, but when it hit, I shuddered violently in his arms, a strangled whimper muffled against my palm.

Nicolas chuckled softly and withdrew his hand, quickly righting my bodice. "My wild butterfly," he praised, kissing me deeply, letting me taste my own musk on his fingers briefly. "How sweetly you flutter for me."

Still breathless, I twined my arms around his neck. I felt powerful in that moment of surrender—because it was I who had provoked his lust, I who allowed this indulgence. With a sly smile, I whispered back, "Let's find somewhere even more private, and I'll show you how sweet I can truly be."

We slipped away from the main gathering, finding refuge in an empty ornately wallpapered antechamber off the hall. There, I pushed Nicolas into a velvet-upholstered chair and straddled him, our masks still on but askew. We coupled urgently, quietly—my skirts bunched around my waist as I rode him, his head tilted back in rapture as I controlled the pace. Every sensation was heightened by the knowledge that beyond the door, the elite of society danced and chatted, oblivious to how one of their esteemed Barons was at that very moment groaning my name behind a thin wall.

After we both reached fulfillment, I collapsed against his chest in blissful laughter. We were a tangle of sweat and satisfaction. Carefully, we righted our clothing and masks before rejoining the festivities, stealing one last conspiratorial kiss.

Re-entering the ballroom, I felt different—invigorated and fearless. I glided through the remainder of the night with an easy smile, exchanging knowing glances with other women whose flushed cheeks and skewed wigs told similar tales of rendezvous. We were sisters in our indulgence, all of us wielding our sexuality to either please ourselves or secure our status—or both.

As dawn neared and the party waned, I found myself near Prince Adrien again, purely by chance. Baron d'Arcy had gone to fetch our carriage, leaving me momentarily unattended. The Prince, a tall man with a commanding presence even masked, took the liberty of a short private conversation.

"You enchanted many tonight, Madame," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "I daresay my brother's court could use such vivacity." A gentle invitation laced his tone.

I dipped a slight curtsy, a playful one given my masquerade costume. "Flattery, Your Highness, will get you everywhere," I replied with a coy tilt of my head. "Perhaps one day I shall grace the court, if fate is kind."

His gloved hand lifted mine and he pressed a kiss just above my knuckles—boldly close to my wrist in a way that felt almost intimate. "I suspect we shall meet again," he murmured, and it sounded like both a promise and a challenge.

Moments later, Nicolas returned, and I was handed into the carriage with the Prince's gaze still tickling across my skin.

Riding home as pale morning light crept into the sky, the Baron dozed, a satisfied smile on his lips. I remained awake, gazing out at the quiet streets and reflecting on how far I'd come. I had danced with princes, toyed with the hearts of powerful men, indulged in forbidden pleasures without losing myself. Indeed, I felt more myself than ever—a woman who had learned to drink deeply of life's joys while holding the reins of her destiny firmly.

I knew better than to grow complacent. But that night had shown me that I could immerse in the headiest of passions and emerge not weakened, but strengthened. The trick was always to remember my aims even in the throes of ecstasy—something I had mastered with practice.

As the carriage rattled toward my townhouse, I gently squeezed Nicolas's hand, letting him rest. In my other hand, I still clutched the Prince's handkerchief—a silken token he'd slipped to me as we parted, embroidered with a royal crest. I had tucked it into my bosom instinctively to hide it from the Baron. Now I drew it out and studied it in the dawn's light.

Pleasure and power. Both were within my grasp; I had proven that much. And soon, perhaps, new opportunities would arise that combined them on an even grander scale. Smiling to myself, I hid the princely token away. There were many moves left to play, and I intended to play them all, one calculated step at a time.