Free The Wicked Confessions of Lady Cecelia Stanton by Viveka Portman

amongst the guests. The women wore pale, near-transparent gowns, and men strutted about in tight breeches. Parties are fascinating to observe and I felt more than a twinge of jealousy that in my state I could not attend.
    The weather was obscenely warm, and despite the open window, I felt uncomfortable. I sank down on the window seat and heard Bess sweep up behind me and wrap her arms around me. We stayed like that some time and watched the social scene play before us.
    ‘Does it bother you, Ceecee, that you cannot attend?’
    I looked at her, and she laid a loving hand upon my distended belly. ‘In a manner, I suppose, but I would not be seen in society bloated as this,’ I replied with a laugh.
    Bess’s face grew serious and I reached up and gripped her chin to pull her to my lips. ‘Stay your frowns, sweet Bess,’ I said and kissed her.
    ‘How was Lord Stanton last evening?’ she asked when I finally released her.
    ‘He did not come to my rooms, as you well know.’ I winked at her. ‘For it was you who eased my nerves and gave me sleep.’ I looked out the window again, trying to spot William amongst the guests. ‘William is as he is ever,’ I replied. ‘At dinner, he tried to make light of our difficulties but a seed of doubt has remained, I know he does not trust me.’
    I heard Bess’s regret in her deep exhalation. ‘It is my fault.’
    I reached turned, and kissed her again, milking the sweetness of her mouth and relishing the moment. ‘It matters not now. I can just be thankful he has not returned to the whores of London – a small benefit from an otherwise deplorable situation.’
    Bess’s face hardened then and she looked away.
    ‘Bess?’
    She turned to face me again and I could see the anger quite plain in her eyes. ‘Do not make me say it, Ceecee.’
    I knew. I knew then, as I had known it earlier, but refused to accept. ‘He’s finding his release here, isn’t he? In the county or the village?’ I asked.
    Bess’s face remained guarded and I watched as her lips parted. ‘Closer than that, milady.’
    ‘In Stanton?’
    She nodded.
    I felt tears burn in my eyes. ‘I suspected, alas…I…’
    ‘I am sorry.’
    I turned angry then. ‘Quit your incessant apologies, Bess Miller.’
    Bess looked startled, and I immediately regretted my cold words. ‘Please, just leave me for a moment.’
    Bess nodded and withdrew immediately. I sank further into the window seat and drew the curtains around me for privacy. William had suggested that our friends and acquaintances might find it rude that we held a party so late in my confinement, but I had assured him that I did not care. I wanted him to celebrate his birthday. I had wanted him to see that I very much appreciated the fact that he had not absconded to London to whore and gamble.
    What a fool I was. He’d been whoring in our own home.
    My husband was being faithless under the same roof our four children lived, behind the backs of our own staff.
    What a witless fool they must all think me.
    A few tears fell then, and I tried to reassure myself once more that I too was indulging in impropriety under the same roof as my children. But this self-confession did not hold the same weight, nor did it cause distress.
    I heard the door creak, then, but hidden behind the curtains, I knew I would not be discovered weeping for my philandering husband nor trying to justify my own infidelity. Whoever it was would leave shortly, I was certain.
    That was, until I heard a giggle.
    ‘I’m feeling extraordinarily goatish today,’ I heard my husband chortle.
    What was he doing away from his party? My heart thumped wildly and confusion whirled through my mind sending my thoughts into disarray.
    I heard an amused feminine giggle.
    Something heated in my belly, and it had naught to do with the babe. Was my husband about to rut someone in our own upstairs drawing room? I heard more mutters and subdued laughter.
    Something changed in me then. Absurd as it was, the