Nicole Jordan (18 page)

“Then I should take you for a drive in the park this afternoon at five.”

Diana nodded. At that hour, Hyde Park was the fashionable place to see and be seen. “I should enjoy that.”

“We will need to arrange some evening outings, in addition. Do you like the theater? Or opera?”

“Very much. Although I have had little opportunity to attend either, living in the country.”

He raised a finger to touch her cheek. “We will have to remedy that,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t be required to spend all your time working or supervising Amy. You deserve a bit of pleasure in your life.”

I can bring you pleasure.

A tremor of heat thrummed through Diana’s body as she recalled the offer Thorne had made her on board his ship. He had not been speaking of the theater then, though.

He must have felt the same heat, for his jaw suddenly tightened and he stepped back. “I will call for you at five.”

When she was alone once more, Diana released a pent-up sigh of relief. It was deplorable, how Thorne managed to arouse her with merely a look. She could still feel her budded nipples pressing against the fabric of her bodice, still feel a treacherous warmth between her thighs.

The warmth inside her faded, however, when, sinking onto the settee, she glimpsed the newspapers.

Diana winced. She was a scandal-glossed novelty for the moment, but with the support of Thorne’s illustrious family, she might very well succeed in weathering the storm. Even so, she was conscious of a vague despondency descending over her.

As a bride, she was completely unsuitable for Thorne, and her unworthiness depressed her.

Yet her dejection had more to do with Thorne himself, and the memory of his father’s warning:
He plays with hearts like they were so many draughts. Women are merely sport to him.

Diana felt an arrow of pain stab through her.

It was safest to think of Thorne as a rogue and treat him with disdain, but she could no longer lie to herself. He was not the rake she had always thought him. His genuine kindness toward her, his employment by the Foreign Office, his restraint when he could so easily have seduced her, all had increased her fascination for him, even more than his arousing physical beauty.

Yet Thorne wasn’t the kind of man ever to give his heart. Passion certainly, but not love. A man of his reckless nature was unlikely to ever settle down in matrimony, as his father wished.

Diana gave a despairing sigh. She would do well to remember that their betrothal was completely false, as was their claim of a love match.

And somehow she would have to erect better defenses against Thorne if she didn’t want her heart broken, as it had been once before.

Seven

T
horne paused
in the doorway of Venus’s sin club two nights later, forcibly repressing his more violent emotions.

The elegant drawing room glittered under the crystal chandeliers and pulsed with the gaiety of satisfied guests and orchestra music—much as it had the unforgettable night of Nathaniel’s death more than a year ago.

Thorne had visited Venus’s club on numerous occasions since then, but this was the first time since realizing that the notorious madam might be implicated in his friend’s murder.

Just now he found it difficult to calm his basest urges. All his primal instincts were clamoring for him to seek out the lovely Venus and throttle her until she confessed her part in Nathaniel’s slaying.

As Thorne stood watching, he couldn’t help recalling the image of Nathaniel’s laughing face. Nate was much like his younger sister Amy, with high spirits and a lust for life that was infectious. He’d enjoyed Venus’s club more than any other London hell, relishing the gaming and the male camaraderie and the female companionship.

He and Thorne had often patronized the club together, ever since its opening four years ago. In fact Thorne could still vividly recall their first visit, when Nathaniel had become happily sotted, not only on the excellent wine, but on the corporeal delights that could be found here.

In the days immediately preceding his death, he had seemed especially eager to return. Was that because he’d been ensnared in Venus’s silken clutches even then?

For a moment, all the grief Thorne had felt that terrible night came rushing back, tightening his throat and curling his hands into fists. But he couldn’t let grief dull his reflexes. Instead, he had to keep his craving for revenge tightly leashed. Had to focus, to keep his wits sharp, his emotions cool and logical.

Setting his jaw, Thorne strolled into the room, with John Yates a step behind him. He’d brought Yates primarily to give him a glimpse of Venus, but also to introduce the younger man to some of his tamer gaming acquaintances.

Almost immediately Yates spied the evening’s prime entertainment. When he stumbled to a startled halt, Thorne’s gaze was drawn to the dais at the far end of the room, where three nude beauties were onstage, lustily cavorting with a Roman senator. One “slave” was feeding the senator grapes and alternately offering her nipples to suck on. A second was lapping at his huge cock with her long, talented tongue. The third was dribbling red wine over her ripe breasts and even riper mound, stroking the lips of her sex, not merely to arouse her “master” but to tempt the avidly watching gentlemen in the audience.

His face flushing, Yates averted his gaze, apparently trying to hide his shock. Quite possibly he’d never attended a club like this, Thorne suspected.

Which was a far cry from his own experience. In his wilder days, he would have joined the beauties onstage. But scenes like this one had begun to lose their appeal long ago and now roused little more than a feeling of boredom in him. Once he’d joined the Guardians, he had found a purpose for his life that had relegated mindless sexual gratification to the mere trivial.

Nowadays, if he were to indulge in a fantasy such as the one being enacted onstage, he would replace the three beauties with one specific woman.

The image of Diana down on her knees before him, his hands buried in her hair, guiding her as his swollen cock slid in and out of her lush mouth, was arousing enough to make Thorne instantly hard.

“The gaming here will be more to your taste than the entertainment,” he said to Yates. “Let me introduce you to some friends of mine, who are congregated at that table over there.”

He led Yates toward a seated group of gentlemen who were playing a convivial game of vingt-et-un, and made the introductions. Some of these same men, Thorne recalled, had been present the night Nathaniel died, including the Earl of Hastings and Baron Boothe. Mr. Laurence Carstairs, who had discovered Nathaniel’s body in the alley, was also here. And Carstairs was precisely the man Thorne wanted most to question.

John Yates was heartily welcomed and invited to enter the game. Thorne, seating himself next to Carstairs, also joined the play, mainly to distract himself from his fantasy about Diana.

It unnerved him a little that he couldn’t prevent his erotic musings at even the most inappropriate times. But then Diana Sheridan was unlike any woman he’d ever known.

Most certainly she wasn’t the kind of grasping, shallow beauty who normally pursued him, only after his title and fortune. He couldn’t recall any woman who was so unimpressed by his prime attributes. Nor could he remember one who actually dealt with him without trying to impress him.

Perhaps that was why he felt so much at ease with her. He didn’t have to fear that she would try to trap him into marriage. Diana had dreams of her own, dreams that didn’t hinge on capturing a husband. Aspirations of independence where she could boldly indulge her deepest passion.

But that didn’t explain why he wanted her so badly. Why he lusted after her almost to the point of obsession. More likely it was her unique combination of qualities that attracted him so strongly. She was not only beautiful, but intelligent and spirited and challenging. Undeniably, he found her company delightful.

If he had been in the market for a mistress, he would have chosen a candidate like Diana. But Diana herself was forbidden to him, and strangely, he had little desire for any other woman just now.

None of the demireps in Venus’s employ, for example, could hold a candle to Diana. Nor could Venus herself.

The thought of trying to seduce Venus was actually distasteful to him. When Macky had suggested that course the other day, Thorne had found himself recoiling.

Which was faintly amusing. Before meeting Diana, he would have had no qualms about pursuing Venus sexually in order to discover her secrets. He would have sought to become her lover, playing the game of seduction that he excelled at. It was partly because of Nathaniel’s alleged relationship with Venus that he was reluctant now. But he knew Diana was more to blame. He was resolved to find another way to expose Venus’s role in his friend’s death.

“Welcome back, my lord,” Venus’s husky feminine voice whispered in his ear just then. “We have missed you.”

The muscles in his body instinctively stiffened, but with effort, Thorne relaxed and smiled up at the tall, flame-haired madam. “I have missed you and your club, darling. I can never find such delightful pleasures anywhere else in the world.”

“We strive to please. Allow me to replenish your glass.”

Venus snapped her fingers at a server, who hurriedly appeared with a bottle of vintage port. As if tiring of the card game, Thorne took the opportunity to withdraw and rose to his feet, so he might have a word in private with Venus.

“My compliments, love, on your exquisite taste in wines. I don’t believe I ever asked where you procure such quality stock for your cellars. I could only wish my majordomo were half so successful.”

She returned a coy smile. “I have my secrets, my lord. As you do yours. Your betrothal took all of London quite by surprise. I trust it won’t diminish your attendance here after you are wed.”

“I hardly think so. I’m not the kind of man to be bear-led by a wife,” Thorne replied. “Nor is my betrothed the type to object to my seeking pleasures outside the marriage bed. She happens to be more worldly than most ladies.”

“How fortuitous for you,” Venus purred. “I confess I found it amusing to watch his grace’s efforts to turn you into a docile lapdog. I doubt any woman alive can tame you.”

“I trust not, since I have no desire to be tamed.” His smile was lavish. “I much prefer to have my women wild.”

“I can help in that respect. You need only say the word.”

Thorne shook his head, feigning regret. “For the moment, I intend to remain faithful to my impending vows. After the nuptials will be another question entirely.”

“If your betrothed is so broad-minded, then perhaps she might enjoy the pleasures we offer here. I can assure her of an enjoyable experience.”

The thought of Diana enjoying the sinful pleasures offered by this den of iniquity brought a fierce stab of disquiet to Thorne’s breast. But he merely smiled and said, “Perhaps. I will consider it, Madam Venus. But jealousy may very well prevent me from accepting your most kind offer. I’m certain you can understand why I wouldn’t want another man touching my bride.”

“Of course, my lord. But the excitement can be all the more sweet if emotions such as jealousy and possessiveness are engaged.”

Gallantly, Thorne brought Venus’s fingers to his lips. “No doubt you are right.”

Thorne remained standing as Venus left him to continue her rounds and to see to the satisfaction of her other guests. But a burning anger made his vision blur with a red haze.

An anger, he knew, that was due in large part to his unreasonably fierce possessiveness of Diana. And also because of Venus’s unruffled pretense of delight when addressing him. Quite possibly the beautiful madam thought she had gotten away with murder. But if she had killed Nathaniel, Thorne vowed silently, he would make her pay dearly.

With that muttered vow he recognized yet another change he had undergone in the past few years. Normally the challenge of searching out a killer was the kind of thrill he lived for. He had discovered, however, that there was no thrill when the victim was a cherished friend, as Nathaniel had been.

And he knew he would have to tread carefully with Venus. Women in her profession seldom succeeded because of beauty or carnal talents alone. They prospered because they were clever and adaptable.

Venus had cleverly established her club on Compton Street, near enough to Mayfair to be accessible to the wealthy gentry, and close to the theater district, where most of her demireps came from.

The club catered solely to an elite clientele and employed high-stakes gaming and imaginative sexual experiences to draw large numbers of adventuresome patrons nightly. Upon tiring of the gaming or the erotic entertainment provided, guests could indulge in various fantasies of their own, including multiple partners, and make use of spirits or opium or instruments of pleasure to heighten sexual arousal. Brutality or bestiality, however, were not permitted here, unlike some sin clubs, where a patron could buy whatever pleasure he fancied.