The Sinners Club (21 page)

“She is a diamond of the first water.”

“So are you.”

“We certainly make a pretty couple. But it isn't that. I—” He hesitated. “I like her.”

“And her ‘brother'?” At Jack's nod, Christian patted his shoulder. “Then I'll offer you my felicitations now. If you still like her despite everything she's tried to do to you then you are well and truly caught, my friend.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'll do my duty by her and Simon and that's it.”

Christian's expression sobered. “If they survived Mrs. Picoult's, I have to agree that they deserve anything you are prepared to give them.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“If you do decide to go back to see her, ask her to give you a tour.” Christian shuddered. “She makes some of the activities on our top floor appear quite tame.”

 

Mary sighed and stared out of the window at the rain-drenched street below.

“What's wrong?”

She turned to Simon, who was finishing his breakfast at the table.

“I tried to talk to Jack again last night.”

His expression darkened.
“What?”

“When you were asleep, now don't scold me. I think I just made things worse.” She swallowed hard. “He already knew I wasn't pregnant.”

“Who told him?”

“He claimed he'd worked it out himself.”

“It's possible. He's a very intelligent man.”

“I wondered if that was what George knew, but Jack said he hadn't even spoken to him yet.”

“Was he angry?”

“He was absolutely furious!” She huddled deeper into her shawl. “I can't say I blame him.”

“Neither can I, love.”

“I never thought it would turn out like this! In the beginning there was just George to deceive, and I thought—”

“You thought it would be easy. Everyone makes a mistake once in a while.” He hesitated. “Is it time for us to pack our bags and be off?”

“We can't do that until Mr. McEwan safeguards our interests.”

“Is Jack going to uphold those bequests? If he is furious with you, perhaps he'll take us to court and tie up your allowance for years while we slowly starve to death.”

“He said that he would communicate with us through his solicitors.”

“Which only means that he doesn't want to speak to either of us face-to-face ever again.” Simon sighed. “It's a damn shame.”

“Oh, I think he'd speak to you. It's me he blames, and rightly so.” She climbed off the window seat. “I can't bear to sit here worrying about what he will or will not do. Shall we go and see Mr. McEwan and ask how matters stand?”

Simon studied her critically. “You look more like your old self. Did you take off the padding?”

“Yes, I'm tired of pretending. We'll tell Mr. McEwan that the physician I saw convinced me it was a phantom pregnancy, and that after bleeding the bad humors out, I was fully recovered.”

“I'm glad you're not pretending anymore.”

She met his gaze. “So am I. Now let's go and see Mr. McEwan and find out if Jack truly does mean to abandon us.”

 

“So you're back.”

Jack bowed. “I am, but as I mentioned in my note, this time in my true identity as the Honorable John Lennox, heir to the Earl of Storr.”

They were both seated in her tawdry crimson velvet office. Mrs. Picoult raised her eyebrows. “I didn't think you'd have the nerve.”

“I have very little choice. Do you know a man named George Mainwaring?”

“Only by reputation. Simon and Mary have mentioned him in their correspondence over the years as a most unpleasant individual, but I haven't met the man.”

“He isn't one of your clients here?”

“No.”

“But the late Earl of Storr was?”

She nodded.

“I know that Mary came here with her mother, Catherine Miller, and that she isn't a Picoult by birth. I also know that her father was a gentleman who kept Catherine as his mistress, and supported his child until his sudden death.”

“So you say.”

“George Mainwaring seems to think he knows something more about Mary and Simon's relationship with the earl. If he does know something, he could damage Mary's chance of receiving anything in the late earl's will and keep her in court for years fighting over the title.”

“Only if she doesn't have a son.”

Jack sat back. “Mrs. Picoult, she has no chance of having a son. She isn't pregnant.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She told me.”

Silence greeted his answer. “So you will be the next earl.”

“I believe so.” Jack held her wary gaze. “I swear that I intend to give Mary exactly what she is entitled to from that will as befits a Dowager Countess of Storr.”

“Why?”

He let his gaze stray around the room. “Because she survived this.”

Mrs. Picoult smiled. “This isn't so bad.”

“That's not what I've heard.”

“It's better than whoring on the streets, which was where Mary and her mother would've ended up if I hadn't taken them in. Even though this is a house that specializes in pain, I make sure that none of the damage inflicted on my employees is permanent.”

“How good of you.”

“You seem to think I am a monster, Mr. Lennox. All of my employees work for me because they choose to. I force none of them to stay, and they are well paid for their efforts.” She hesitated. “In my particular line of business there are always those who prefer pleasure to be painful, and that's what I cater to almost exclusively here. If my employees couldn't enjoy that too, they wouldn't stay.”

His skepticism must have shown in his face as she rose to her feet. “Come with me.” She handed him a black mask. “It will disguise you sufficiently for our tour.”

She led him up a flight of stairs and into a large room at the front of the house that spanned the building. It was set up to resemble a classroom with rows of desks and chairs and a board at the front for writing on. Jack leaned against the back wall to survey the room. The current participants could hardly be described as children.

Four grown men sat at the front, diligently writing something on their slates while a voluptuous woman dressed in a tight black, high-necked gown patrolled the front of the room, a long birch cane swishing back and forth in her hand.

“Come on, who has the answer?”

One of the men raised his hand and the woman went over to him.

“You have it wrong.” She pointed at the teacher's desk and the man hurried over, placed both hands on the edge and bent over presenting his arse. “Six strokes.”

Jack watched in fascination as the woman expertly whipped the man's arse. When he was finally permitted to stand up, the thick bulge of his erection pushed against the placket of his breeches.

The teacher prodded the man's cock with the end of her cane.

“What is the meaning of this, Claude?”

His reply was inaudible. The teacher's was not.

“Unbutton your breeches!”

Claude fumbled to obey, releasing his cock with a groan.

“Do you think your teacher wants to see that? Do you imagine she wants to wrap her hand around you and suck you dry?”

Claude shook his head.

“You are a filthy little boy, aren't you?”

“Yes, miss.”

“And what do we do to filthy little boys who show their cocks to their teachers?” The other men all raised their hands, but she ignored them. “We spank them, don't we? Pull down your breeches, sit on the desk and hold that
thing
away from your stomach.”

Claude moaned something but did as he was told. The teacher positioned herself slightly to the side of him so that the rest of the men could see clearly, drew back her hand, and slapped Claude's cock hard.

Jack winced and fought an impulse to cup himself.

The other members of the class watched avidly as the teacher continued to slap Claude's cock. By the fourth stroke he was gasping and wriggling, by the sixth he was coming in thick jerking waves.

The teacher moved closer to inspect his now flaccid shaft and prodded it with her cane. “Who would like to help Claude?”

All the other men's hands shot up again. The teacher's smile was gracious. “As you've all been so good, perhaps you could form a line and take turns licking Claude clean until the task is complete.” She frowned at Claude. “And you must remain quiet and not give into your animalistic urges again tonight, or I will have to punish you further.”

Mrs. Picoult touched Jack's arm and nodded at the door. He was more than willing to follow her out onto the landing.

“As you see, my customers' requirements are very specific.”

“Is everything here like that?”

“Most of it. We have rooms where a man can be tied up and fucked by anyone who cares to, rooms where men dress as women and are treated as such, rooms where—”

“So how did Mary survive in this male environment?”

“Some men still like to fuck both sexes, you know that. I understand that you are one of them.”

“And what did the Earl of Storr like?”

Her smile was derisive. “He tried everything I had to offer him.”

“Until he made his choice, and negotiated with you to get what he wanted.”

She shrugged. “I am a businesswoman, Mr. Lennox. I knew that Simon and Mary would have a much better life at Pinchbeck Hall than they would here.”

“How altruistic of you.”

“Do you think I forced them?” Her smile was brief. “They were quite willing to go, I swear it, particularly Mary.”

Jack looked around the darkened hallway. “To escape this? I can almost understand it. Is there anything else you are prepared to tell me, or have I exhausted your goodwill?”

“There is one more room you might wish to see. It is the one Mary and Simon occupied before they left.”

“They shared a room?”

“Space is at a premium in a brothel, Mr. Lennox, and it kept them both safe.”

“Until the Earl of Storr came along.”

She headed up another set of stairs. “As we have already discussed, that is a matter of opinion.”

They kept climbing until they reached the very top of the house, where the ceilings sloped inward and the rooms were usually set aside for servants. Jack had to duck his head to get through the doorway Mrs. Picoult opened. He found himself in a small chamber with one bed and a chest of drawers with a broken leg, which leaned against the wall. A thin patchwork quilt covered the straw mattress.

“Mary's mother used to rent the room next to this as well.”

“Did she ever tell you who her protector was?”

“A Mr. Norris, I believe. I never met him.” Mrs. Picoult gestured at the window. “Open the shutters if you need more light to see.”

Jack automatically stepped forward, only turning at the last minute as Mrs. Picoult whisked herself out of the room and was replaced by her son.

“Jack.”

“What do you want?”

“To speak to you? My mother let me know you were coming here tonight.”

Jack smiled. “If you've come to plead Mary's case, don't bother. She tried to outwit me, and she almost succeeded. I can only applaud such ingenuity and cold-blooded disregard for the claims of others.”

Simon winced. “Ouch, she did hurt you, didn't she?”

“It's no longer important. I've already assured her that I'm not a vindictive man. I'm quite prepared to deal with her through my solicitor.”

“She's very upset, you know.”

“Which is not my concern, and hardly surprising when her plans have been foiled.” He walked up to Simon. “Will you get out of the way?”

“I don't think I can.”

Jack's hand shot out and closed around Simon's throat. “Move.”

“If you think violence is going to scare me away, Jack, you're wrong. There's something I want to explain to you.”

“As I said, I don't care about that.”

Simon held his gaze. “This isn't about Mary, it's about me.” He licked his lips. “I grew up here, Jack. You might not believe it, but my mother tried to shield me from what went on in this house for years. I found out by peeping through the doors and was aroused by what I was seeing, men on their knees being whipped, being fucked by other men, being owned....” He sighed. “I wanted that. I knew it was wrong, but I still wanted it. When my mother found out I'd been spying on her clients, she wasn't pleased with me. When she realized I craved such excesses myself, she offered me a job here.”

“And you took it?”

“As I said, it was what I wanted.” He swallowed hard. “That's when I met the Earl of Storr.”

Jack walked away and leaned back against the windowsill. “You met him first? Am I to assume he fucked you both?”

Simon met his gaze steadily. “No, he fucked me in every filthy way he could think of. He liked Mary to watch and—hand him whatever he requested. Sometimes he would let her suck my cock, or let me fuck her, but that was quite rare. He preferred to use me himself.”

Jack suddenly remembered all the erotic implements in Simon's room, and Mary's familiarity with them. “He gave you that book I found under your pillow.”

“He was determined that we would attempt every single sexual position in that blasted book. The bastard almost killed me a couple of times by tying me up too tight, or for too long, or gagging me until I almost passed out.” He shrugged. “Not that I'm complaining. For people like me, those things just make everything better.”