art: watered silk, with tiny puff sleeves and a neckline that left Anya’s shoulders scandalously bare. The provocative color changed from peacock blue to kingfisher green in the light, and the material made a satisfying swish, like a whispered secret, whenever she moved.
The front was cut so low, it almost showed her nipples, and Anya resisted the urge to try to cover herself. An ingenious built-in corset held everything in place and would—hopefully—avoid disaster.
“Who would have guessed you were hiding a bosom under there!” Charlotte teased.
As a princess, Anya had clothes that had always been of the highest quality, but they had, by and large, been quite demure. This dress was neither of those things. It was a daring, silent statement that proclaimed the wearer a powerful, confident woman. And Wolff had chosen it for her. Was that how he saw her? It was hard not to be flattered.
“Never underestimate the importance of clothes in a woman’s arsenal,” Charlotte said, her tone serious. “In the right setting, satins and silks can render you as invulnerable as armor. Knowing you look good, that you have the power to bring grown men to their knees, is a valuable asset.”
She gave a mischievous smile and led Anya to the dressing table so she could brush her hair. “Sensible men can be persuaded to do a great many foolish things when under the influence of a revealing bodice and a trim waist. I once persuaded the Chevalier d’Anveau to buy me a matched curricle and pair, thanks to a particularly well-cut décolletage.”
Anya smiled. Charlotte’s opinion on the importance of fashion was rather similar to Wolff’s.
She sat still as Charlotte pinned her hair into an elegant upswept style and added the blue ostrich feather plume that had come along with the dress. To Anya’s eye, she looked underdressed without a tiara on her head and a glittering necklace at her throat, but still, it had been a long time since she’d made such an effort over her appearance.
Since she’d felt so attractive.
A teal-colored opera mask would cover her from forehead to nose, and her worry dissipated at the anonymity it would provide.
Charlotte opened her reticule and extracted a pot of rouge, which she dabbed sparingly onto Anya’s lips and cheeks, then stood back to admire her handiwork.
“Perfect! You’ll break hearts tonight, Madame Incognito. I guarantee it.” She collapsed gracefully onto the side of the bed. “So, tell me everything. Has Wolff kissed you again?”
Anya fought a guilty flush. “What do you mean, again?”
Charlotte sent her a chiding look. “He kissed you that night at my house. Don’t think I didn’t notice, young lady! The atmosphere in that room was crackling. He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time. Until you looked at him, and then he looked away. The whole thing was vastly entertaining. Better than watching an opera.”
Anya sighed. “Yes. He did kiss me that night. And he’s kissed me again since then.”
So very thoroughly.
“And you enjoyed it,” Charlotte predicted, with a gleeful bounce upon the bed.
“Yes. Very much.” Anya couldn’t stop the smile that sneaked across her lips at the memory.
Charlotte tilted her head. “You naughty girl! Are you going to take him as your lover? He wants you, I’m certain of it. And that’s not all. I’ve seen all the ways men look at women—with lust, with pride, with covetousness, with hopeless longing. He looks at you with more than just desire. There’s something else there, something real. Something rare.”
“I’m very tempted,” Anya confessed. “But I’ve never taken a lover. I always assumed I’d wait until I found someone to marry, but I’m twenty-two now, and the chances of that happening are growing more and more remote. Perhaps I ought to see what all the fuss is about?”
The girls at Haye’s had tried on countless occasions to explain to her that women could experience just as much pleasure as men, provided one’s partner was skilled enough. Anya was beginning to think it was time she discovered the truth for herself.
“It’s just like riding a horse,” Charlotte said with a wry smile. “You need a little practice until you learn how to control your mount, but you’ll quickly gain confidence and discover the right positions. And then—it’s marvelous. Think of how much you like riding a horse; the breathless thrill of a fast gallop, the swoop of excitement as you clear a fence. Good sex is even better.”
Anya considered her words. There was no question that she desired Wolff. Her body