He turned back to the woman, who had retreated as far away from him as she possibly could. He had to assume that he was still being watched.
“Miss Retton, isn’t it?” She simply stared at him. “If you wish to get through this, may I suggest you do exactly as I say?”
She still didn’t speak, her eyes widening as he walked toward her. He put one hand under her chin and made her look at him. “Take off your clothes.”
A single tear appeared on her cheek, and Christian stifled a sigh. “Take them off, Miss Retton, or would you prefer me to call Lord Kelveston?”
Her hands went to the bodice of her simple muslin gown, and she started to undo the buttons, her fingers shaking as she tried not to cry.
“Please, sir, do not make me do this. I’ve done nothing wrong, I swear it.”
Christian put his finger against her lips. “I’m not interested, Miss Retton. All I want is you naked and under me. Now be quiet or do I have to gag you as well?”
A year ago, such a display might have excited him—the thought of the struggle ahead, his eventual victory, but not anymore. Now it was merely a matter of surviving his disgust at the antics of the Demon Club. Hot tears fell down her cheeks and he wiped them away.
“Get on the bed and I’ll explain exactly what I expect from you.”
By the time he closed the door and left a sobbing, grateful Miss Retton behind him, Christian was exhausted. He reached the vestibule and reclaimed his hat and gloves. Melinda appeared between him and the exit, her bosom heaving and her mouth trembling.
“Who are you bringing to the party?”
“That’s hardly any of your business, my lady,” Christian replied.
She held up her hand. “But I’ll be here! You don’t need anyone else!”
He sighed. “Melinda ...”
Her expression changed and she came at him, her fingers arched into claws. “You bastard!”
He winced as she caught his cheek with her nails, scoring a line down to his throat. With a snarl, he caught her hands. “Stop it.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “I’ll do anything you want, I swear it! Just tell me what it is and I’ll do it ... please!”
“There is nothing you can do.” He tried to say it gently. “We had an enjoyable time together and now it is over, and we can explore new possibilities.”
“But I still want you!”
He held her gaze. “And I don’t want you. I’m sorry, but that is the truth.”
She swallowed hard. “What does she do for you that I didn’t? Tell me what she does and I swear I’ll do it better.”
“She ...” Christian stopped speaking. He couldn’t even begin to compare the two women. Melinda was available to any man who could offer her the dark excitement she craved, and Elizabeth? She made herself available to no one.
He released Melinda’s hands and stepped back. “I have to go.”
She didn’t try to stop him this time, and for that small mercy he was profoundly grateful. He hailed a hackney cab and climbed in. In truth, he felt like the bastard Melinda thought he was, but he couldn’t lie. No woman or man had ever held his sexual interest for more than a night or two. He’d told Melinda that before starting their affair, and she’d chosen to forget it.
With a sigh, Christian sat back and watched the London scenery pass by. It didn’t make him feel any better. He now regretted his impulse to visit the Demon Club. His confused thoughts about Elizabeth had sent him there. To make matters worse, he’d invited himself to one of their more notorious sexual events and reactivated Melinda’s obsessive interest in him. He was indeed a complete fool.
10
E
lizabeth tied the ribbons of her bonnet and lowered the veil. Despite her protests that she would never need them, Christian had chosen both the black bonnet and the matching pelisse, and now she was glad of it. She checked the clock in her room and hurried down to the kitchen.
Ambrose was in deep conversation with Paul, and at first neither of them noticed her. It was strange that despite having shared a bed with Paul, she felt none of the confusion at seeing him that she felt with Christian.
Ambrose looked up and saw her. “Elizabeth. Are you ready to go?”
“Indeed, I am.”
She put on her gloves and picked up her reticule. Inside, along with all her money, she had a serviceable sharp knife purloined from the kitchen and the address of the newspaper office.
Paul put his hand on Ambrose’s arm. “I think I should accompany Mrs. Smith.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Why?”
Ambrose shrugged. “Paul thinks I am too well known and that it would be easy for anyone to trace you back to the pleasure house. Unfortunately, he might have a point, but I’d rather leave the decision up to you.”
“I hadn’t thought of that ... ,” Elizabeth said hesitantly.
Paul moved to stand beside her. “Then let me come with you. Men in uniform are ten a penny on the streets these days. I’m a nonentity compared to Ambrose, here, but I can defend you. I have no compunction in killing.”
Elizabeth met Ambrose’s worried gaze. “Would you mind if I went with Paul? I don’t want anyone following me back here.”
“I don’t mind at all, although what Mr. Delornay will say is another matter.”
“Mr. Delornay isn’t here,” Elizabeth said sweetly. “He obviously had far more important things to do than worry about me.”
She still wasn’t sure if she was glad or hurt by his casual dismissal. But it was better not to care. At least she knew that.
Paul offered her his arm. “Then, shall we go?”
“We should.” She smiled at Ambrose. “I won’t be long.”
“You’d better not be. We have our first clients for the new room of desires, and I’ll need you both back to prepare.”
Elizabeth followed Paul out into the square and waited as he hailed a hackney cab and helped her inside.
She consulted the address. “We could have walked, Paul.”
“I know but this is safer.” He patted her knee. “We can take a more circuitous route back as well.”
Elizabeth tried to laugh. “I feel quite foolish asking for protection.”
He studied her intently. “Why? Whoever you are afraid of made you leave everything behind. No one runs away for fun.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured. “I had no choice. At least I thought I didn’t ...”
Paul leaned forward and touched his finger to her lips. “Don’t tell me any more. I have no wish to keep secrets from Christian and Ambrose.” He grimaced. “In fact, if they offered me certain sexual favors, I’d probably offer them up quite willingly.”
“You underestimate yourself,” Elizabeth said.
“No, I don’t. I just know what a coward I am.”
She frowned at him. “From all reports, that is not true. I hear you acted quite heroically in the war.”
“Only to impress Major Lord Gabriel Swanfield.”
Elizabeth fixed him with her most severe stare. “You might choose to undervalue your achievements, but I do not believe a word of it.”
His smile was beautiful and yet tinged with sadness. “You are an angel.”
“Hardly.” Elizabeth shivered as she thought of what she might find out today.
“Now who is belittling themselves?” Paul chided her.
The cab pulled up, and Elizabeth braced her gloved hand against the door. She waited until Paul came around to help her down the steps.
He pointed down the long roadway. “This is Fleet Street. The newspaper offices are about halfway down on the left, opposite Somerset House. You walk ahead and I’ll follow discreetly behind.”
Gathering her courage, Elizabeth lowered her veil and set off in the direction Paul had shown her. It was a cloudy day, and a few spots of rain already dampened the stone slabs of pavement. Elizabeth kept her gaze fixed resolutely ahead. If anyone wanted to kidnap her, they’d have a fight on their hands.
She opened the door into the main lobby of the newspaper offices and found herself in what appeared to be the general office. Several men sat at desks behind a high counter. Three older men were serving various customers, and Elizabeth joined one of the lines and patiently waited for her turn.
When she reached the front of the queue, she produced the clipped advertisement and passed it across to the clerk.
“Do you have any information for me about this? I believe I am the woman the advertiser is trying to contact.”
The man glanced at the clipping and frowned. “Now this here is a tricky one, ma’am, seeing as I don’t know if you are who you say you are. The best thing I can do is send a boy out to the person who placed the advertisement and give him your details.”
“But I’d prefer to meet him here,” Elizabeth said as pleasantly as she could. She should have anticipated his response. Now she felt like a fool. “Would that be possible?”
“Yes, ma’am. Perhaps you’d like to write a note suggesting a time, and I can send it with the messenger.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Elizabeth replied.
The man offered her both paper and a pen, and she stood to one side composing a brief note to the mysterious RR. She handed the man the message and a small coin for his trouble and turned to leave, her reticule clutched firmly in her hand, her anxiety still high.
Outside the office, she took in a deep breath of the damp air and started to walk back toward where she had agreed to meet Paul. She had a strange sensation that she was being watched and found herself wanting to walk quickly. It was highly possible that Armand had somebody watching the newspaper offices. Her earlier fears suddenly seemed real, and she scanned the crowds for a glance of Paul.
A hackney cab pulled up alongside her, and she looked up into Paul’s familiar face. He extended his hand, and before the cab fully stopped, he brought her inside, his strength surprising. She took a seat and he continued to look out the window, a frown on his pleasant face.
“I think there was a man following you. Did anyone try and speak to you?”
“No, they didn’t.” Elizabeth fought for her usual composure. “The clerk at the office took a message from me to the person who placed the advertisement. I have asked to meet him tomorrow at three.”
“You believe it is a man?”
Elizabeth cursed her unruly tongue. “It’s possible.”
Paul turned to look at her. “Your husband?”
“My husband is dead.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I saw him being laid to rest in his family tomb.”
“Your lover, then?”
Elizabeth raised her chin. “Which one? There were so many.”
“They weren’t your lovers.” Paul regarded her steadily. “From what I understand, they were not of your choosing.”
“My customers, then, although I scarcely got paid.”
Paul reached for her hand. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. My curiosity sometimes overwhelms me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She glared at him. “I’m not upset.”
He continued to hold her hand between both of his, and she stared down at her lap. It was ridiculous to be upset. Paul had only asked the questions that Christian and Ambrose would expect him to. She gathered her thoughts.
“I didn’t recognize anyone in the office or on the street. If someone was following me, I didn’t know them.”
“They’ll be more ready for you tomorrow. They’ll have a time and a place to go on.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Have you considered whether you really want to make this contact?”
“I have no choice.”
“Ah.” He went quiet for so long that she thought he’d forgotten her. “Whatever it is must be important to you.”
“It is.” Elizabeth closed her lips firmly.
“And you are certain that we can’t help you? Madame Helene has an enormous amount of influence in all circles of the aristocracy. You might be surprised at what she can help you with.”
“I don’t believe Madame Helene would be able to help me,” Elizabeth said. “I’m responsible for this mess, and it is up to me to fix it.”
Paul released her hands and sat back. “I think you’re wrong, but I doubt I’ll be able to convince you otherwise.” He winked at her. “I’ll still offer my companionship to you for tomorrow, though.”
“Thank you.”
Elizabeth managed a smile and then spent the rest of the journey back to the pleasure house staring out the window to ensure Paul would not try to converse with her again.
After one of the maids released her from the black gown, petticoats, and stays, Elizabeth sat at her dressing table to brush out her damp hair. Her fear had subsided, leaving her feeling curiously shaken. Would it be better just to give up, to go back to Armand and continue the charade, as he wanted? She had to consider that even if the very thought made her stomach turn.
Her door opened and in the mirror she saw Christian. She briefly closed her eyes. She was in no state for one of his interrogations.
“Good evening, Mrs. Smith.”
“Good evening, Mr. Delornay.”
Elizabeth continued brushing her hair and met his gaze only in the mirror. He came up right behind her, took the brush out of her hand, and started to comb her hair. The smell of expensive perfume wafted over her and she stiffened.
“Did you enjoy your afternoon, Mrs. Smith?”
“Not particularly. I’m sure that Paul has already given you all the details.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw three red parallel scratches that marred the perfection of his cheek. “Did you enjoy your afternoon, sir?”
“Not particularly. The Demon Club lacked a certain something today.”
She tried to stand up, but he pressed a hand onto her shoulder. “I haven’t finished brushing your hair yet.”
“But I need to get ready.”
She twisted out of his grasp and faced him, searching his expression for the lazy, satiated look of satisfied lust she had come to know and found instead a coldness that startled her.
Unbidden, her hand rose to his damaged cheek and he went still.
“Does it hurt?”
He shrugged. “A little. It is of no importance.”
His voice held as much expression as if they were discussing a broken fingernail. She tried to match his disinterested tone.
“Did she also douse you in the contents of her perfume bottle ?”
“No, she just draped herself all over me.” His nostrils wrinkled. “I suspect she bathes in the foul substance.”
“You should pick your mistresses more carefully.”
“I do.” He caught hold of her chin. “You always smell very pleasant, especially when I’ve made you wet.”
“I meant your other mistresses.”
“Are you jealous?” he asked softly.
“Do you want me to be?”
He kissed her mouth, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. “Always so polite and accommodating. Wouldn’t you fight for me?”
“If you wanted someone who throws tantrums and screams, I fear you chose the wrong person.” She met his gaze. “I’ve learned that when a man wants something, there is very little that a woman can do about it.”
“And I want you right now.” His hand slid around her hips, drawing her close until she could feel the hot press of his cock against her stomach. He backed her toward the bed and came down on top of her, his mouth devouring hers, his hands busy rucking up her shift.
She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled hard, almost relieved to have something physical to fight about to get rid of her fear.
“I have to get ready!”
“By God, I’ll get you ready.”
His mouth descended again and he kissed her, leaving her the choice of fighting him or letting him have his way. She tried to push at his chest, and he grabbed her wrists, bringing her arms over her head and holding them there, locked within his grasp.
His mouth moved lower and closed over her breast, his tongue flicked her nipple, and then he nuzzled it, sending streaks of pure lust straight to her sex. Her back arched as he drew on her, his other hand now between her legs cupping her, his thumb circling her clit.
“I’m not yet ... prepared,” she managed to gasp.
He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed, his fingers still working inside her. “For sex or for an orgasm? I’ll just use my mouth on you, then, and you can use your mouth on me. But I’ll make you come, I swear it.”