After Tanya had managed to get Baron Whatever-his-name-was out of the small room she kept for trysts such as the one that had occurred she had slipped on her shift and made her way through the corridors that only a few servants knew about and made her way back to her real chambers.
The maids were already waiting, her bath was drawn, there was a fire in the hearth to keep her warm, and a meal already set out. She gave the young girls a pleasant smile before she sat in the tub, shift and all and slouched down so that the surface of the water reached just below her nostrils.
The girls left after curtsying and she just let the warm waters soothe her limbs. She always loved that delicious soreness that settled into her muscles after the type of night and morning she'd just experienced. Flexing her muscles under the water's surface she began to run her hand over her body.
Apparently the Baron had not helped to satisfy all her needs after all. Perhaps she had been rather hasty in making him go. As she straightened up, her lips resurfacing from the water, they were formed into a pout that most men would die to kiss.
At that moment she realized that it would be some time before she dared let a man into her bed again. What a pity.
Her hands slowly started to wander over her own body, but she had much more than bathing in mind. Unfortunately, right now, self gratification would have to do.
By the time she was done, her sounds of pleasure having been stifled as much as she was capable, the water was growing cold despite the nearby fire. With a sigh she lifted her dripping hand out of the tub and rang a bell that was sitting on the small table nearby.
It didn't take more than a moment before the maids came into the room. Helping her from the tub she let them change her shift and dry her off even as she made small talk with them, asking after their families.
She knew that it wasn't the norm to fraternize with servants, but then she didn't exactly have the most normal of backgrounds. Only she and her papa knew the truth about her mother's background. Most individuals accepted that the late Countess Donnikova had been descended from one of the knyazes.
Only she and her father knew the truth. Her mother had been a servant once, but it had been easy enough for her father to invent a background for her when he decided he couldn't live without her.
There'd never been a chance for the truth to come out since she'd died shortly after Tanya's death, but her father had never hidden the truth from her and she'd lived her whole life with high regard for people of all classes, peasant or noble.
Of course there was no reason for her papa to know that she'd taken men of all classes into her bed. He hadn't brought her up to be that accepting. She was still expected to be a lady and marry as well as she was able.
He was fond of saying that that was the burden of money and class. She never pointed out that he had not taken on that particular burden himself. Not that she was interested in marriage, far from it. She was enjoying life without a husband far too much.
As the maids helped her to put her hair up in the latest fashion and helped her to dress she nibbled on a piece of toast.
She had to stop by the dressmaker and cobbler, then it wouldn't hurt to go to the glove maker and she really should buy some new garters and stockings. Shopping was so tedious, perhaps she would just leave it for another day and rest before the ball she was supposed to attend this evening.
Looking out the window as her body was jerked about while being corseted, she noticed clouds rolling in. Winter was almost upon them which meant that the days would grow shorter and colder, while the evenings grew longer. It would be nice if she could have a nice hard body in bed with her every night to keep her warm. She was sure that last evening's Baron or any other number of men of her acquaintance would be happy to fulfill that request, but that meant marriage and at eighteen she was far from ready to submit to a husband and play the role of the dutiful wife.
Even if eighteen was the appropriate age for a woman of her station to be married off she still felt that she wanted to be free of those particular constraints, she was just enjoying herself way too much, flitting from man to man. It was also true that she hadn't found any single man worthy of dedicating her life to.
Perhaps some day, one never knew. As of yet no one really seemed worthy.
Dressed and coifed she stood in front of her mirror and turned her head this way and that, taking in her appearance. She'd grown sick of this dress, having already worn it twice.
Turning to her maids she smiled. "Which dress did we decide on for the ball?"
We, as if the poor girls had any real say in the matter. Truth was the girls would settle for a scrap of lace half the price of that that covered her costly gowns. Every piece of her wardrobe was perfect to them so they could not understand how she chose one gown over another.
A soft, shy voice finally answered her, "I believe it was the red with the black detailing, mistress."
She nodded and pouted. Perhaps she should go to the dress maker after all. The green dress with the black embroidery she'd ordered should be ready. Of course that would mean a visit to the furriers and the other shops.
With a resigned sigh she looked away. "Send for the carriage."