All Afternoon with a Scandalous Marquess (7 page)

“If this is subtlety, Lord Sainthill, I find your execution somewhat lacking.”

Saint started, caught unawares by the blonde’s approach. He recovered quickly by saying, “Spying, Anna? I thought you preferred to participate?”

He had some history with Anna. Although he was not proud of it, he had bedded Anna simply for the fact that the woman had a close friendship with Madame Venna. Revenge was a pathetic reason to get a woman naked, and it did not take long for him to sicken of the petty game. Worse still, Anna knew exactly why he had chosen her.

“How would you know?” She gave him a sad, knowing half smile. “It has been years since you have asked for me.”

In truth, several years had passed since he had bedded any of Madame Venna’s girls. Oh, there were other women. Like naughty Temperance, he rarely lived up to his nickname. Once the hurt and fury he had felt from Madame Venna’s rejection waned, expensive courtesans and widows had lured him away from the Golden Pearl for months at a time. Even so, he always returned. No one ever questioned his reasons for spending his evenings there. Then again, not everyone came to Madame Venna’s establishment for its carnal pleasures.

“Did you have something to say, or are you looking for reasons to shirk your duties?” he asked, uninterested in discussing why he’d stopped visiting her bed.

Anna’s eyes narrowed at his flippant question. Her scowl added lines, aging her. Until that moment he had not realized that she was likely older than him. Mid-thirties, if he were to guess. Older than Madame Venna, too.

“I only came to tell you that you have nothing to worry about,” the woman said, not looking very pleased with him. “Though why I should bother, I do not know.”

She started to walk away.

Saint reached out and grabbed Anna by the arm. “Worry about what?”

“Lord Mulcaster,” she replied, giving him an impatient look. “She isn’t interested in the man.”

He did not bother to profess that he didn’t know which
she
the woman was talking about. “Why are you telling me this?”

Anna rolled her eyes heavenward. “Probably for the same reason that you used to insist I wear a half-mask to bed. Or that I found you skulking in the shadows—”

“I was not skulking,” he protested. Is that what she thought? Thank goodness Hunter wasn’t about or he’d never hear the end of it.

“Perhaps I was mistaken.”

She might as well have called him a liar. “You are,” he said, his voice hardening. “I trust you will not be spreading unfounded speculations with the staff
.” Or specifically, Madame Venna.

The older woman met his unflinching gaze. “The Golden Pearl has a reputation beyond reproach for its discretion. Madame V would sack anyone whose actions tarnished it.”

Saint did not doubt that Madame Venna would do what was necessary to preserve the Golden Pearl’s sterling reputation. “Good. Then we understand each other.”

“More than you know,” she said, not appearing to be cowed by his subtle threat. “However, I can see that you are just as stubborn as she is, so I won’t detain you a moment longer. Enjoy your evening, Lord Sainthill.”

Saint’s fingers tightened on her arm. “Explain.”

Anna glanced down at his hand, and he released her. “I think not. If you want answers, you’ll have to get them from Madame V,” she said over her shoulder, the sensuous swish of her hips briefly distracting him before he noticed that she was leaving.

“Where is she?”

He did not expect a reply, but she managed to surprise him again. “Upstairs. Right passageway. At the end, there is a small parlor with a balcony. She goes there when she wants some air and a moment to herself.”

“Anna…,” he began, wondering if he should thank her or curse her for offering him this temptation.

“No need to thank me,” she said, flashing him a saucy grin. “I’m wagering Madame V will feel the same.”

Chapter Eight

As usual, Anna’s timing had been impeccable. Not that she needed any assistance ridding herself of an unwanted lover, but the woman’s arrival with a believable pretense allowed Madame Venna to escape and Lord Mulcaster to keep his male pride intact.

Madame Venna opened the doors to the balcony and stepped outside. A faint cooling breeze teased her face, making her long to remove her half-mask, but she did not dare. Catherine did not belong here. There were too many people around to take the risk, even when the risk was minimal. The narrow balcony was too small for entertaining, so the parlor was rarely used except by her and her staff.

She closed her eyes, taking in the sounds of the night. There was music from the Golden Pearl’s ballroom, and softer strains of a violin from down the street. She could hear laughter, low sensual murmurs from a gentleman who lied to everyone, including himself. A woman’s high-pitched shriek pierced the night, and the unintelligible grumblings from two males below most likely would lead to a fight. Horses’ hooves clattered; equipage rattled as lords and ladies hurried to their destinations. London never rested. For a moment she allowed herself to feel connected to it, and it washed away some of the loneliness that had been plaguing her.

Behind her, she heard the soft scraping noise of the parlor door opening and closing. Anna had probably come to check up on her. Madame Venna wondered if her friend was aware of her tendency to mother everyone around her.

Madame Venna smiled as she leaned forward, her forearms braced against the railing as a thought occurred to her. Without turning around, she said, “Have you ever wondered if it was time for you to quit this business? Perhaps you should leave town and find yourself a plain, yet dependable, farmer who will plant a dozen babes in your belly.”

“I’ve always been adventurous,” Mulcaster drawled. His amusement was apparent as Madame Venna straightened so quickly her spine cracked as she spun around to confront him. “Even so, your virile farmer and I would never suit. I prefer a delicate, sweetly scented blonde who fires my blood with the chase.”

The earl pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

*   *   *

Between Anna’s directions and the tour Madame Venna had given him of the Golden Pearl’s public rooms, Saint found his way to the small parlor with relative ease. Occasionally, he heard muffled conversations and moans on the other side of the doors he passed, but he knew from his own experiences that the rooms had been built for privacy. Madame Venna provided services for all depraved cravings and vices. Saint’s indulgences were tamer by comparison, but Frost had often spoken highly of the establishment’s creativity and diversity. No doubt, the earl had sampled much of what he had praised. There were few things that thwarted Frost.

As he reached the door to the informal parlor, Saint raised his fist to knock, but hesitated. Seconds later he let his arm drop to his side. There was no guarantee the woman would invite him to enter if she heard his voice. In fact, he assumed the brothel had hidden passageways built into the thick walls in case the Golden Pearl fell out of favor with the police. Madame Venna could easily slip away unnoticed while he pounded at the door like a lovesick fool.

The thought of being outmaneuvered by the woman again angered him and spurred him to open the door. Several oil lamps were lit, but a sweeping glance of the interior revealed an empty room. Damn it! Had Anna merely been playing games? With his hand still on the brass door latch, he stood there, his posture simmering fury.

“Mmm … no. Let me—”

Saint’s head shot up at the soft feminine voice. To the right, dark green draperies moved, buffeted by an unfelt breeze. He hadn’t noticed the partially shut curtains that concealed a small balcony.

And Madame Venna was not alone.

Without hesitation, Saint crossed the room, his vision narrowed on the gap in the curtains. He had no intention of charging through the opening like a reckless hothead. That was something Vane, or even Sin, might have done. Anna had told him that Madame Venna was alone in the parlor. That was enough to warrant checking on her. The Golden Pearl was decorated to look like any fashionable town house of the
ton.
Her girls wore dresses most women would envy. All the wealth and polish hid the seedier side of the business, however. He suspected Madame Venna had made a few enemies as she strove to build the brothel into a successful business venture.

“And why shouldn’t we?” the man on the other side of the curtain entreated. “You deny yourself what is so eagerly offered.”

Madame Venna sighed. “You are too generous. Nevertheless, running a business requires discipline and practicality, Lord Mulcaster. I happen to adhere to both.”

“Mayhap I can convince you otherwise.”

Saint had heard enough. He pushed the drapery aside and discovered that Mulcaster had pinned his quarry against the stone balustrade. Covering her from behind, his hands were fondling her breasts while his devious mouth was kissing her neck. Madame Venna had brought her left hand to the man’s shoulder and was inching her fingers to his cravat.

If she got a good hold of that meticulously pressed linen, there was a chance she could strangle him and toss the bastard off the balcony.

Saint’s money was on her, but he had no intention of watching Mulcaster’s embarrassing attempt at seduction a second longer. “Forgive me. I did not realize you had company, Madame V,” he lied, feigning a calmness he could not possess with his heart pounding in his chest.

Lord Mulcaster’s dark-haired head lifted at Saint’s intrusion. When he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes blazed with undisguised malice. “Now that you do, Sainthill, you can spare yourself further humiliation by leaving.”

“Mulcaster, there is no call for rudeness,” Madame Venna said briskly. Taking advantage of the distraction of Saint’s timely arrival, she delicately pried the earl’s fingers from her bodice. “After all—”

“We had a prior arrangement,” Saint smoothly interjected, causing Madame V and Mulcaster to gape at him in surprise. He stifled the urge to laugh. It would be a pity to ruin what fate had kindly provided. “Am I early, Madame?”

“No, no … not at all,” she said, her accent thickening as she recovered her composure. She moved away from the earl as she pulled at the edge of her bodice near her collarbone. “Lord Mulcaster was just leaving.”

This was clearly news to Mulcaster.

He was unhappy that another man was usurping his position. “Don’t be absurd,” the earl blurted out. “Sainthill can meet you another night.”

Mulcaster’s comment piqued Saint’s curiosity. Six years had passed since he and Madame Venna had started and ended their ill-fated affair on the same night. Saint never spoke of the incident. He was certain she was cautious not to mention it as well.

“Unfortunately, that is not possible since our meeting was business in nature,” Madame Venna said, her gaze locking with his. “My apologies, Lord Mulcaster. I warned you that I would be unavailable for the rest of the evening.”

Something dark and ugly rippled across the earl’s face before he could conceal it. “Yes. Then you went on to lecture me on discipline and practicality.”

Her lips thinned with her displeasure, but she remained silent.

While Madame Venna could not afford to turn her patrons into enemies, Saint had nothing to lose. “A pity you were found lacking, Mulcaster. Perhaps you should call on her another day when you have worked on your manners.”

Mulcaster shifted his stance as if he was prepared to take personal offense against Saint’s observations.

“Christ, do you really think you have a chance of planting that facer?” he said mockingly. Punching the earl would definitely improve Saint’s evening.

“Lord Mulcaster … Lord Sainthill, must I remind you of our house rules?” She watched both of them warily.

The small balcony was no place to fight. With Madame Venna’s back pressed against the balustrade, one uncalculated tumble into the woman could send her over the barrier.

For a tense moment, Saint was convinced the earl was indeed foolish enough to challenge him. His gaze was filled with impotent hatred as he weighed the odds. He must have decided they were not in his favor. Suddenly the rigid anger tightening Lord Mulcaster’s stance eased.

He turned to address Madame Venna. “Forgive me, Madame.” The earl glanced at Saint. “It was wrong of me to intrude when I was not invited to do so. I hope I will remain welcome at the Golden Pearl?”

Lord Mulcaster bowed.

“Of course,” she said. Her smile was strained as she curtsied.

“Then I shall bid you both a good evening.”

Saint would have preferred tossing the bastard over the stone balustrade, but Mulcaster was leaving so he could be generous. “Permit me to escort you to the door.”

Neither man spoke as they walked to the door. Saint opened it and gave the other man an expectant look.

Lord Mulcaster moved in until his nose was inches from Saint’s. “This isn’t finished.”

“I look forward to it,” he replied, keeping his voice low so Madame Venna could not overhear their discussion. “Do you want to make this formal? Name your seconds.”

The earl wrinkled his nose in distaste. “And risk shedding blood over a whore? You are either drunk or mad, Sainthill!”

Saint leashed his temper. “Or maybe I do not need a reason to put a bullet in you,” he said silkily. “Did I mention that Lord Chillingsworth and His Grace, the Duke of Huntsley, will be my seconds? No? Crack shots, both gents, though their services will not be necessary. Ask around. You will find that my skills with pistol and sword are noteworthy.”

Lord Mulcaster sneered. “I will remember that if I feel the need for practice. Until then, I look forward to our next meeting.” He walked out of the parlor and did not look back.

“As shall I.”

Pompous bastard.
There would be a confrontation at a later date. Saint shut the door. He turned the key in the lock, but did not retrieve it. The action was designed only to prevent Mulcaster or anyone else from interrupting them.

Saint glanced up and noticed that Madame Venna was standing near the curtains. If he did not know her better, he would wonder how much she had heard. However, he had a more important question to ask.