Dare to Love a Duke Page 2

  The possibility of a brothel had already been ruled out, and Tom was something of an expert in the noises women made when in the throes of passion. He could tell when they were feigning pleasure, and when they were sincere. The moaning coming from ahead was most assuredly genuine.

  “Patience,” his friend said. “All shall be revealed.”

  They both stepped into the doorway of a large parlor. Tom’s heart jolted in his chest, and blood rushed straight into his groin.

  Everywhere he looked he saw exposed flesh. Women’s bared breasts, men’s upright cocks, abdomens, arses, limbs. It was a bounty of people barely dressed, or completely nude save for their masks. Men and women tangled together on low sofas, sprawled on thick carpets, or leaned against walls in groups that ranged from couples to quintets. A man in laborer’s clothing fucked a genteel lady from behind as she bent over a table. Three women formed a complex knot as they lapped at each other’s quims, while a gentlewoman unbuttoned the falls of a man’s breeches so that another man could suck his cock.

  Sex. Everywhere, sex. The humid air was thick with the smell of it, and with the sounds of unrestrained sensuality.

  Meanwhile, masked servants bearing pitchers of wine or platters of sweetmeats walked between the couplings, calm and disinterested. Clearly, they were quite used to the spectacle.

  Tom wasn’t. Though he was no stranger to small parties that evolved into group sex, he had never before witnessed so many people from such an array of classes all engaged in public displays of carnality. He’d seen and done everything that London had to offer, but the Orchid Club was entirely new. And entirely wonderful.

  “Bless you,” Tom said to his friend. “How did you learn of this place?”

  “One of my old comrades in arms told me. It’s an open secret. Been around for years, actually, but it manages to stay hidden.” Ellingsworth’s lips quirked. “I see it pleases you.”

  Tom watched as a man reverently stroked and kissed a woman’s arse while another man fondled her breasts.

  “This is Paradise,” Tom said reverently.

  Ellingsworth grinned. “None of the thoughts I’m entertaining are at all angelic.”

  “Shall we explore the rest of the club?” Eagerness hummed through his body—at last, after years of exploring all of London’s most thrilling facets, he’d found a new experience.

  A brunette reclining on a divan in nothing but her shift and a white mask crooked her finger at Ellingsworth.

  With a grin, his friend clapped him on the shoulder. “I leave the investigation to you. A pressing matter has come up.” Ellingsworth walked quickly toward his waiting lover.

  Less than a moment later, a blonde dressed as a dairymaid swayed over to Tom’s side.

  “Shame you being on your own,” she said as she trailed her fingers down his waistcoat. Her accent held the rough consonants of East London. “Shame that I’m on my own, too.”

  His body answered with a quick throb of lust, but he softly took her hand between his and pressed a kiss to her rough fingertips. So her garb and accent weren’t disguises. She truly was a dairymaid.

  “Forgive me,” he said with a smile. “I’m still getting my sea legs.”

  “Don’t need balance if you’re lying down.” She winked and glanced toward an unoccupied chaise.

  “I’m truly tempted, love,” he said with genuine regret. “But I mean to get the lay of the land first.” When she frowned in disappointment, he said, “You’ll have no trouble finding a willing friend. If I return in quarter of an hour and you’re still on your own, I promise to make it up to you.”

  She looked at him, her expression considering. “Sound awful sure of yourself.”

  “There’s much in this world that defies my understanding,” he said. “Yet if there’s anything I do understand, it’s fucking.”

  “Anybody can fuck,” she said, her hands on her hips. “But can you do it right?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said with complete confidence.

  She looked him up and down, and she smiled, liking what she saw. “Come find me then. A quarter of an hour.”

  She ambled away toward a servant pouring wine, but before she’d gotten halfway across the room, an elegantly dressed man stopped her with a kiss. Given the enthusiastic way in which the dairymaid responded, Tom was certain she would be quite busy in fifteen minutes.

  After grabbing a sugared cake from a platter and then following it up with a glass of wine, Tom moved from the parlor to an adjoining room. It was considerably larger than the previous chamber and looked very much like a ballroom, complete with parquet floors below, two sizable chandeliers above, and substantial framed mirrors on the walls. In the corner, a group of masked musicians played a waltz. At the farthest end of the ballroom stood what appeared to be a stage, currently empty. Tom could only speculate what sort of performances might happen at the club.

  The dance floor was full of more guests in various stages of undress. Some of them actually danced, though their bodies were far closer than any Society function would permit. The rest swayed in couples or trios, kissing and caressing one another. Even a Cyprian’s Ball could not compete for unalloyed sensuality.

  A man and woman paused in the middle of their heated embrace and beckoned for Tom to join them. Despite his stab of desire, Tom politely waved a decline.

  This was precisely the sort of diversion he normally relished. Yet here he was, sticking close to the perimeter, content merely to observe rather than participate.

  An unknown force held him back. He merely watched everything unfold around him and could not quite bridge the distance between himself and what he saw.

  Perhaps he should leave. Leave Ellingsworth to his debauchery and then . . . and then what? Go back to his bachelor lodgings and spend the rest of the night reading by the fire? What a truly gloomy thought. He hadn’t spent a quiet evening at home in nearly a decade. But if he wasn’t going to avail himself on the Orchid Club’s bounty, maybe it was better to beat a retreat.

  With a frustrated sigh, Tom turned to go. But he stopped when he caught sight of a woman standing alone by a table that held a potted orchid.

  She was fully dressed in a sophisticated white-and-gold gown and wore a mask of gold satin. The light in the ballroom was dim, yet even from this distance he could see the olive hue of her skin, and the long line of her neck revealed by her upswept black hair. She possessed a bold splendor, her features strong and striking. She had a beautiful, generously proportioned nose like a Mediterranean goddess, and full, ripe lips. Like him, she watched the proceedings in the ballroom, but did not move to participate.

  She held herself with the kind of poise that came only with complete self-assurance. As if she refused to believe anything could hold her back. That, even more than her beauty, made her magnetic. Once Tom’s gaze fell upon her, he could not look away, not even if the building had fallen down around him.

  Who was she? What kept her from joining in the activity all around them? He ached to know her every secret, and burned to hear her voice—would it be high and musical, or low and husky? Anything and everything about her he ached to discover.

  He couldn’t remember a woman affecting him so strongly, so quickly. He knew desire, certainly, and the quick pull of attraction, but this immediate fascination was unknown. Until now.

  Every part of him craved to be near the woman in the gold mask. Overcome with staunch determination, he moved straight in her direction. Whatever tonight’s outcome might be, he could never regret coming here, because it brought him to her.

  Chapter 2

  Excitement and anxiety pulsed just beneath the surface of Lucia Marini’s skin as she surveyed the Orchid Club’s belowstairs kitchen.

  “We’ll have enough cakes?” she asked Jenny, the cook.

  “For the fifth time, yes,” Jenny said with an exasperated smile.

  She placed a candied violet atop one sugared confection and set that on a silver tray. Immediately, a masked female mem
ber of the staff whisked the platter away.

  “Circulate three times through each room,” Lucia called after the girl.

  A pair of hands settled on Lucia’s shoulders and gently squeezed. “Breathing’s not so difficult, once you get the hang of it.”

  Lucia turned and smiled at her friend Kitty. Kitty’s ash-blonde hair fell loosely about her shoulders, and her hazel eyes regarded Lucia with fond amusement. With her coral freckles scattered across ivory skin, Kitty looked more like a country girl from Devonshire than a London woman of experience. She had once been the former and was now the latter.

  At the sight of Kitty, a fraction of the tension knotted in Lucia’s chest loosened.

  “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

  “A little,” Kitty said. She rubbed her hand over her exceptionally pregnant belly in habitual movement. “But a bit of ridiculousness is perfectly understandable. Tonight’s your first night as the club’s manager. Only an escapee from Bedlam would be calm about it.”

  “I may need to be committed to Bedlam after the night’s over.” Lucia couldn’t keep still, and, despite a glower from Jenny, adjusted the placement of miniature tarts on their platter. They looked good, but were they good enough?

  Jenny pointed a cook’s knife in Lucia’s direction. “Hands off, or I’ll chop them off and make them into mincemeat pies.”

  Hands raised up, Lucia backed away from the sweets. “It’s not that I doubt your skill in the kitchen—”

  Kitty laid her fingers on Lucia’s arm. “Stop right there before you say something that’ll make you cringe later.”

  She tugged Lucia out of the kitchen. In the corridor, Kitty stroked a few strands of hair from Lucia’s face. “Be at ease, love. Everything will go swimmingly.”

  Despite all the encouragement Lucia had given herself earlier, her composure fell away and she fought to keep from twisting her hands together.

  “Mrs. Chalke entrusted the Orchid Club to me. All the souls that work here, they all rely on me to keep our doors open. I fail, and we starve.” The magnitude of Lucia’s responsibility nearly crushed her, yet this was what she’d yearned for—a place of her own, and the means by which she could create a better life for herself and those she cared about.

  “Not so dire as that. True,” Kitty said with a nod, “we need the extra blunt the operation gives us, but nobody’s going hungry, no one’s sleeping on the steps of Christ Church. You needn’t ride yourself so.”

  Lucia stepped back to allow passage for a small convoy of male staff members carrying crates of wine bottles.

  “Remember, ragazzi, new rule—each guest gets a maximum of two glasses of wine.” Wine and spirits clouded judgment, and she wanted to ensure that every guest acted from a place of lucidity.

  “Yes, miss,” they called over their shoulders as they moved up the stairs leading to the ground floor.

  “And what of the girls’ home?” she continued to Kitty. A swell of anxiety rose up within her. “It won’t come to pass if the club sinks. All those girls will be left on the streets, without roofs over their heads, unable to read a letter or write their own names.”

  Kitty exhaled. “Before you set sail, you’ve got to first build the boat. A step at a time, love.”

  “What if—”

  “Enough fretting now.” Kitty smiled warmly as she tapped a finger on Lucia’s chin. “You proved to our dear former manager, Mrs. Chalke, that you deserved to take over her job when she retired. No one doubts your ability—not even you. So go on upstairs and oversee your new empire, Your Highness. As for me,” she continued with a small grimace, “my feet are swollen as melons, so I’ll be retreating to my room. But I’d rather be down here, helping.”

  Affection swept through Lucia in a soft tide. She enfolded Kitty in a quick embrace, though she bent into a concave shape to make room for Kitty’s round stomach.

  “Never doubt that you help,” she said sincerely. “Between you and Elspeth, I have more than my share of better angels.”

  Kitty laughed. “A winged angel big with child, that’s what I am.”

  “Now fly, piccolo angelo,” Lucia said, swatting Kitty on the arse. “I’m a busy woman.”

  Shaking her head, Kitty waddled toward the servants’ stairs, leaving Lucia briefly alone. She swallowed hard. Dark and ravenous for more of her flesh, the fear that always lurked climbed out from its pit.

  She shut her eyes as she drew in a deep breath.

  Cara Mamma, she implored the spirit of her mother, wherever you are, send your girl the spirit of good fortune and even better business.

  Quickly, Lucia crossed herself. Now was the time. This was her moment.

  She climbed the stairs, drawing strength and composure with each step. No matter how much fear or uncertainty she felt, she could never allow her guests to see any hint of apprehension. The Orchid Club relied upon its aura of unbridled sensual freedom to attract visitors again and again. Guests wanted to feel safe as they indulged their erotic desires. If there was any hint of the proprietress’s anxiety, the fantasy would shatter like brittle sugar sculpture.

  By the time she reached the top step, Lucia had swathed herself in the cool serenity of her professional persona. She was a queen, benevolent but untouchable.

  She hadn’t gotten this far in life by giving up, by being afraid. Poverty hadn’t stopped her, nor had losing her only parent, or undertaking a long, perilous voyage to a foreign land. Again and again, she’d pushed onward, as she would continue to do so. Until breath left her body.

  Some might consider her achievements dubious, but to her, they were triumphs.

  She opened the baize-covered door that stood at the head of the stairs and stepped into the hallway. Sounds of sex encircled her, as familiar as the sounds of seabirds over the Golfo di Napoli had once been. There was also the warm ripe scent of sweat-glossed skin, and the heat that came from dozens of bodies engaged in vigorous activity.

  Bypassing the two main rooms in the club, she neared the entryway, where Elspeth stood awaiting the subsequent knock on the door from the next arrival. Tall and lean, Elspeth wore her peach-hued gown to perfection, and with her short hair, she looked every inch the noble gatekeeper.

  Before Lucia said a word, Elspeth’s smile flashed.

  “Fear not, Amina,” Elspeth said, using Lucia’s alias. She held up a pouch that jingled, heavy with coin. “The take’s as good as it’s ever been. Better.”

  Lucia permitted herself a small exhalation. Perhaps this might work out. Perhaps she could allow herself a moment’s satisfaction.

  She envisioned herself donning an invisible cloak that gave her strength and poise, standing straighter as its folds swathed her body. “Any troublemakers?”

  “I turned away a pair of drunken Mayfair louts. Other than that, it’s been smooth as a dish of milk.”

  “So long as no bothersome cats come along to tip that dish.”

  The coded knock at the door sounded, and Lucia moved on as Elspeth went to admit the guests.

  For the first time, she stepped into her empire as its rightful ruler. No cornets heralded her arrival, and no rose petals scattered across her path. It was, in all ways, unremarkable—except to her. She drew confidence from each footfall, rising up taller and taller.

  This is mine because I fought for it and won it fairly. I belong here.

  Within the two main rooms of the club, everything appeared satisfactory. The sight of people fucking in full view of others had long ago lost its ability to shock or even arouse her. It was simply business. So long as her guests were happy and kept returning, the spectacle remained merely a component of her work and nothing more.

  The staff moved through the chambers with smooth efficiency, offering refreshments, righting any overturned furniture, and monitoring their guests. Lucia exchanged attentive nods with Will and Arthur before proceeding on to the ballroom.

  Before this evening, there hadn’t been music, but now musicians she had personally selec
ted for their ability and discretion played music that graced the finest assemblies in London and the Continent. The melodies provided an elegant background as guests gave free rein to their most primal desires in full view of everyone.

  Lucia herself had never attended a fine assembly. This would be the closest she’d ever get to hearing the music meant for the elite, and she smiled to herself to think that what a conte or principessa heard in some august ballroom was currently performed for people of every rank as they fucked one another.

  Surveying the room, her gaze lingered on the female guests, looking for signs that they were being coerced or pushed into doing things they didn’t want to do—a man’s hand gripping a woman too tightly, or a woman literally backed up against a wall. But her female guests seemed willing and eager to participate.

  She released a long breath, permitting herself a moment’s relief. Fears that her first night as manager would result in disaster began to dissolve. Everything seemed attainable, and that potential rose up within her like the bubbles in sparkling wine.

  I can do this. It’s possible. Everything is possible.

  Her thoughts abruptly silenced. She sensed someone’s gaze on her like a velvet glove stroking down the back of her neck.

  Lucia looked around to find the source of the sensation. Her breath stuttered and her pulse came in a quick flutter when she saw its origin.

  A rangy, dark-haired man in a blue mask strode purposefully toward her. He moved with fluid, masculine grace, his body muscular and strapping. The direct way he approached captivated her—as though nothing could keep him from being near her.

  Lucia’s pulse leapt again.

  She shook her head, trying to dismiss her reaction to the guest’s approach. Clients often turned their interests toward her. Yet there was a palpable sensuality to the way he walked and the interest in his gaze. It held frank erotic intent, and the confidence that he could give her extraordinary pleasure.

  Even at a distance, his eyes said, I. Want. You.

  Rather than walk away, as she normally did when a guest took interest in her, she stayed where she was. The distance between them closed, bit by bit, her heartbeat picking up speed the nearer he came.