In the dimly lit boudoir, the Duchess of Duxbury engages in a clandestine, sensual act. Her slipper-clad feet rest on the edge of her chaise, legs open to the cool air, her hand moving rhythmically beneath her skirts. Her breath hitches as her fingers stroke her sensitive nub, her other hand squeezing her full breast. She's lost in her pleasure, unaware of the maid entering, carrying the evening's correspondence. The Duchess, startled, quickly covers herself, her face a mix of embarrassment and lingering desire.