Max stared into the dying flames flickering low within the great hearth of his study. He held his third drink of the night loosely in his hand, his legs stretched out before him. He scratched at the bristly growth of hair on his jaw. He had not shaved in days, and he felt in no particular rush to do so.
For the fifth night in a row he stayed in. It was a record.
The first two nights following that shattering kiss with Aurelia, he had gone out to all his usual haunts. He’d rubbed elbows with acquaintances, friends, strangers. He’d laughed, consumed copious amounts of liquor, and flirted with women. Rather desperately he had flirted with the fairer sex, trying hard to banish the memory of how perfect Aurelia had fit against him. How she had tasted of bergamot and mint. How she had shuddered and come apart in his arms.
Bloody hell. He lifted his glass and drank deep.
He had contemplated taking another woman to bed, but whenever he leaned in close to kiss one, he found himself pulling back. He could only see amber-brown eyes and olive skin. Every. Bloody. Time.
With a hissed breath, he rose and refilled his glass and then dropped heavily back into his armchair with a muttered curse.
He needed to forget her. Forget that kiss. Her smell. Her taste. Her wild responsiveness. He wasn’t about to ruin a lifelong friendship because he had an itch to taste what was beneath Aurelia’s skirts. Even he possessed a code. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do, but virgins and best friends’ sisters were off limits.
He’d reached a decision. It was the reasonable thing to do. The responsible thing. Come morning, he would depart for the country. He hardly ever left Town during the Season, but given the circumstances, a visit to his family estate seemed the only recourse.
He would absent himself from Town for a few months. By the time he returned, Aurelia would either be gone for Scotland or engaged. He took another deep gulp from his glass and pushed the thought of Aurelia married to someone else from his mind. He refused to think of her unleashing her uninhibited passions on some other man. With a groan, he brought his hand to his cock and readjusted the growing bulge in his trousers. Clearly, his attempts to not think about her weren’t working. He eyed the decanter across the room, debating getting well and thoroughly soused.
A tentative knock sounded at his door. His staff was well aware of his black mood for the last week.
“Go away!” he bellowed.
A long moment followed before another knock came, a fraction louder this time.
He glared at his glass, contemplating tossing it at the door. “I said go away!”
The door creaked open and his butler stuck his head into the room like a turtle poking his head out of his shell. “M’lord?”
“Go away, Barton.”
“You’ve a caller—”
“I don’t want to see anyone tonight.”
“She says it’s an emergency.”
She? He straightened in his chair, his mind racing.
She wouldn’t dare . . . nor would he want her to. Of course, he would turn her away after a severe tongue-lashing. And immediately his thoughts took a dive into the gutter over what manner of tongue-lashing he would subject her to. Bloody hell.
“Send her in.”
She must have been waiting outside the door. Barton scarcely withdrew back out into the hall before she entered.
Disappointment stabbed him in the chest. It wasn’t Aurelia.
The fact that he had hoped it might be Aurelia indicated he was far from putting her out of his mind. The eagerness that tripped through him at even the possibility of seeing her again was wrong on every level. Aurelia visiting his bachelor residence this hour of night? It would ruin her. Of course, he didn’t want that. He would be forced to marry her in that event.
He relaxed and fell back into the chair, eyeing the female before him as the door clicked shut behind Barton. He recognized her, but it took him a moment to place her. When he recalled that she was Aurelia’s maid, he immediately tensed.
“What are you doing here?” Even a servant had a reputation to protect, and he suspected this girl was more than a servant to Aurelia. He’d often spotted them with their heads bent close together, whispering like schoolgirls.
She squared her shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said what I’ve come here to say.”
He eyed the slim length of her. She was thin, but wiry. As though she had spent a good portion of her life hard at labor. “What’s your name?”
“Cecily Calloway,” she replied. “And I’m here at my own peril, to be certain. If Aurelia finds out I’ve come to see you, she’ll horsewhip me.” She inhaled a sharp breath, narrowing her brown gaze on him. “And if you’re half the man I suspect you are, she will find out.”
He arched an eyebrow, not certain whether to be complimented or not. “Indeed? And why is that?”
She nodded. “She’ll know . . . because you will be going after her.”
He sat up slowly. “Explain yourself. Why are you here?”
“She might be in trouble. It’s just a feeling I have. Call it intuition.”
With Aurelia, that was a very real possibility.
Cecily continued, “I told her not to go . . .”
Concern shot through him. Suddenly avoiding her over the last week seemed stupid. She was always one for rash words and behavior. Who knew what manner of trouble she had gotten herself into?
He stood, braced for what was to come, resolved to go after Aurelia no matter how risky it was to be around her. No matter that he only wanted to take her to his bed. Someone needed to protect her from herself.
“Where is she?”
“It’s been a long time,” Mrs. Bancroft said as she guided Aurelia down the corridor.
For the proprietress of an illicit underground club, Mrs. Bancroft was attired modestly in an understated gown of dark blue. It fit her snugly from throat to hem, but was still somehow provocative for the lack of flesh revealed. The most elaborate thing about her happened to be the black-feathered domino covering most of her face. Aurelia’s domino covered nearly as much but was not nearly as opulent.
“Yes, it has been,” Aurelia agreed rather lamely. She had not been this nervous the first time she visited Sodom.
That time you were not reeling in the aftermath of Max’s blistering kiss.
She shook her head. That should not matter. If anything, it should only motivate her to extend her education in all things of a wanton nature.
“Truthfully, I did not know if you would remember me, Mrs. Bancroft,” Aurelia said as they made their way up the stairs to the second level of Sodom.
“Of course I remember you. Aside from the fact that I make it my business to remember the names and faces of everyone to pass through the doors of Sodom, this establishment doesn’t see too many inexperienced doves.” Mrs. Bancroft assessed her slyly. “I take it you are a maid still? You’ve not married yet, I presume?”
Heat crept over her cheeks but she nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“And how is your friend with the lovely red hair? I hazard to say she is a maid no longer.”
“No, she is married now. Happily so.”
“Well, good for her. I suspect she will never frequent Sodom again.”
“Ah, that is unlikely,” she hedged, in reference to Rosalie. Her friend would certainly never be returning. She didn’t have the need for such adventures anymore. She was in raptures over her marriage. “I think one visit to Sodom was enough for her.”
Mrs. Bancroft smiled vaguely. “Hm. Indeed. But once was not enough for you. You made quite an impression on your last visit here. Your card game was talked about for months. A few of the gentlemen that you played cards with have inquired about you.”
Before she could respond—perhaps she wasn’t expected to—the proprietress turned down the corridor, motioning at the doors on the left and right. “Do you have any notion of what you’re looking for tonight in the way of entertainment? You may recall that various amusements can be found in specific chambers. Perhaps you prefer to observe in one of our voyeur rooms again?”
Recalling the eyeful she had gotten the last time she was here, heat crawled up her face. She had learned much. Those images had haunted her over the last year.
“Er, no. Perhaps I could mingle about the main room again. Are there still games downstairs?”
“Indeed, yes. Let us see what games we have tonight. Perhaps you will be lucky at cards again.”
The memory of soundly trouncing Max made her grin. Until she recalled that he could possibly be here tonight. Which only made her scowl.
If he was here, it could be only for one reason. It would be so he could enjoy other women. Kiss them and fondle them as he had done with her. Take them to his bed as he had not done with her.
She knew it was contrary of her. She was here for the similar purpose of seeking her own pleasure . . . and yet it signified very little when her heart constricted painfully in her chest. She did not relish the idea of him with another woman.
Shaking her head, she vowed that she would exorcise the man from her thoughts. What happened between them had not affected him. So she wouldn’t let it affect her either. She would indulge herself tonight, and tomorrow she would continue her husband hunt.
Dinner had gone well with Mr. Mackenzie and her family, and Buckston was taking her for a ride in his new phaeton tomorrow. Mackenzie was attractive if not a little intimidating. With young Buckston, there would be little risk—and Mama adored him. There was that.
Aurelia followed Mrs. Bancroft down to the main floor, trying not to feel uncomfortable at the eyes cast her way. She told herself that much of the attention was directed at the mysterious Mrs. Bancroft. Several gentlemen nodded and waved at the masked lady, hoping to gain her attention. All for naught. The proprietress’s gaze did not linger overly long on any one individual, and yet there was no doubt that she took everything in, missing nothing that was occurring amid the walls of her establishment.
“Would you like me to find a spot for you at one of the tables?” She motioned to the room with an elegant sweep of her hand.
“Um, I think I should like to watch for a bit before deciding.” She flashed a reassuring smile. “Don’t let me keep you from your duties.”
“If you’re certain.” Mrs. Bancroft considered her for a long moment, hesitating before leaving Aurelia alone. “Is there not something specific you’re seeking that I could help you with? You seem different from your last visit . . . troubled perhaps?” She folded her slim hands in front of her with an air of patience. As though it were her custom to listen to the woes of her patrons. And it likely was, Aurelia realized.
Troubled? She winced at the apt description. She mulled over the well-meaning question. Was she seeking something specific? She supposed she was. Only the same mind-numbing passion she had felt in Max’s arms. Not too much to ask. She swallowed back a derisive laugh, accepting that it might not be something she could likely replicate.
She scanned the large room. Conversation and laughter buzzed in the crowded space. “I should have no difficulty finding what I need, thank you.”
Her stomach grew queasy as she assessed the various men. Several who now looked her over with speculation . . . as though she was a piece of horseflesh to be appraised. None of them enticed her in the slightest, and it occurred to her that she might have a slight problem even permitting anyone to touch her.
“Very well, then. Send for me if you need anything. The staff can locate me at a moment’s notice.”
“Thank you.” She forced a smile for Mrs. Bancroft.
“It’s simply good to have you back.” With an elegant bob of her head, the proprietress turned and made her way back up the stairs.
Alone, Aurelia stared out at the room. Loud laughter in one corner snared her attention. She looked that way and gasped. A woman sat on a man’s lap, halfheartedly batting his hands away as he tugged her bodice down to reveal one ripe breast. She squealed as he lowered his head to suckle her.
Mortification burned through Aurelia and she suddenly became self-conscious of her breasts in her low-cut gown.
She knew she shouldn’t be shocked. It was not her first time here, but she recognized several faces among the room’s occupants. The Earl of Hedderfeld, an old friend of her father’s, sat at one of the tables with a girl who couldn’t be older than herself snuggled up beside him. Aurelia’s skin crawled as she watched him feed her grapes like she was some kind of pet. Hm. Perhaps she should keep him in mind for a future sketch.
She continued to scan the room, pressing a hand over the stomach of her tight bodice. Any time she made eye contact with anyone, she quickly looked away as though she were staring down the barrel of a rifle. Her stomach knotted and she glanced behind her toward the door. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. It did not seem nearly as enticing without Rosalie for company. Last time, the experience had been adventurous. Now it just felt . . . tawdry and uncomfortable. Max’s face flashed through her mind. She could only envision him across a table from her in this very room, stripping his clothes off to the titillation of onlookers. Her flesh warmed at the memory of his body, all long lines and hard angles
A tray passed her and she lifted a glass of champagne off it and downed it in one fortifying gulp, hoping it would supply her with some courage. The last thing she wanted to do was return home right now and endure Cecily’s well-meaning I-told-you-so stare.
Someone suddenly stepped beside her. She looked sideways and then quickly stared straight ahead again, her pulse hammering in her neck. She pressed her hand against her throat, pushing her fingertips to her warm flesh there in an attempt to still the flutter. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. She knew the man.
Struan Mackenzie. The very man who had sat beside her this evening at her family’s dining table now stood here beside her. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt inside her rib cage.
Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t recognize me.
“Hello, there,” he murmured in his deep brogue.
She didn’t dare glance at him. Relieved for the protection of her domino, she fixed her gaze on Lord Hedderfeld’s balding head. When her eyes started to sting, she realized she hadn’t blinked for several moments. With a small shake of her head, she blinked several times. Behave normally, she told herself. Say nothing. Not a word. Give him no encouragement and he would move on.
His brogue came at her again, heavy and deep with a ring of satisfaction. Or perhaps that was just her own doom she heard in his words. “I said hello there.”
“Hello,” she finally returned, her voice a shaky whisper.
“Ah, she speaks. I knew it.”
She inhaled thinly. Did he not recognize her, then? Perhaps he simply toyed with her. If she continued to treat him with aloofness, he would go away and she could somehow escape this night without being utterly ruined. At least she hoped so.
He plucked her hand up and placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Panic jolted her at his touch.
“You know what else I know?”
She shook her head fiercely, processing the sensation of his mouth on her skin. A warm little flutter sifted through her. It wasn’t unpleasant precisely.
“I know ye . . . my lady . . .”
He looked up, his moss green eyes holding her gaze in a knowing manner that made her stomach knot.
“You must be mistaken,” she whispered.
A slow smile curved his lips as he lowered his head to kiss the inside of her wrist again, this time lingering and letting his teeth scrape the sensitive flesh there.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “You are too bold, sir.” She attempted to tug her hand free, but he held fast.
He lifted his head, gazing at her as if he could see her face clearly . . . as though a domino was not covering half of it. His stare moved, roaming over her in her gown. She flushed, aware more than ever that it was a size too small and the bodice indecently low-cut. It might be pink, but it was not demure by any stretch of the imagination. Suddenly, she wished she was somewhere else. Wearing something else.
He leaned in closer. “Is this place not for the bold? Lady Aurelia?”
All hope died. She gulped at the very deliberate use of her name. There was no doubt now. He knew it was she beneath the mask.
“I had hoped we would grow better acquainted.” His voice whispered for her ears alone. “I simply did not imagine it happening here. What a curious little minx you’ve turned out to be.”
She considered insisting he was mistaken, that she was not who he thought, but that would be pointless. He could rip off her domino if need be. Or he could follow her home. There were any number of ways to verify her identity. “How did you know it was me?”
“Not many English girls have yer coloring . . . or impressive . . .” His voice faded, but she could guess his meaning.
The heat was back, flooding fire to her face. “You’re too bold, sir.”
“Am I? I would not think anything too bold for a girl who frequents Sodom.”
She clashed eyes with him. “Rest assured, this is not customary for me.”
He nodded. “I surmised as much. I would have remembered ye here.”
“So you often frequent this establishment, then,” she shot back. She supposed she should mind if a suitor spent so much of his free time at Sodom. If she cared for that suitor even a fraction, she should care.
She gazed at the Scotsman looming over her with fresh eyes. He was certainly handsome . . . and yet she didn’t feel anything for him. Blast! It would be exceedingly convenient if she did.
“It’s all professional, I assure ye. I like to keep an eye on the competition.”
She shrugged. “It is none of my business.”
“No? Well, I confess I’m surprised to find ye here tonight, Aurelia. What else might I learn of ye?” He trailed a fingertip against her collarbone.
She met his gaze directly. “What are you going to do with this knowledge, Mr. Mackenzie—”
“Struan,” he corrected, his deep brogue practically purring the sound. Strewan. “I believe we can use each other’s Christian names at this point.”
“Struan,” she amended. “Will you inform my family?”
He angled his head thoughtfully. “I dinna think I need to do anything so hasty, lass. I can be discreet.” He dragged his fingers from her neck over her shoulder and down her arm. “Especially when it concerns a friend.”
She echoed numbly. “A friend?”
He inclined his head and the motion caused the chandelier light to gild the gold-brown strands. “We’re friends, are we not? Although I confess I’m interested in something more than friendship from ye . . .”
“Take your hand off her.”