Simply Shameless (11 page)

She mustered a smile. "I beg your pardon, monsieur. Would you care for some refreshments?"

"No, thank you."

Helene caught Gideon's amused and speculative gaze. He'd probably never seen her quite so distracted before. She forced another smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir. I hope you enjoy your evening."

Gideon looked disappointed. "But, madame, I promised Philip that as my guest, you would give him a personal tour of the premises."

"Did you?" Helene narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm sure Mr. Ross would rather spend his evening with you."

"On the contrary, madame. Who better to show me around than the woman who created such an unusual establishment?"

Helene glanced sharply up at Philip Ross, who appeared to be smiling despite the dismissive bite of his words. She curtsied and raised her chin.

"I'd be delighted to show you around, sir. Gideon is right. I am extremely proud of this pleasure house."

He placed her hand on his sleeve and nodded at Gideon. "Thank you for the introduction.

Perhaps I will see you at White's tomorrow."

Gideon bowed and winked at Helene. "The introduction was my pleasure. Madame Helene holds a very special place in my affections."

"Indeed."

There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Philip's voice this time.

Gideon raised his eyebrows. "I met my wife here. I'm sure madame will tell you all the details."

"I'm sure she will."

Gideon turned and went back toward the doorway, where a younger man stood waiting for him. Helene hid a smile as Gideon gave the youth a kiss on the lips. She cast a quick glance up at Philip.

"That is Gideon's wife. She sometimes likes to dress as a man."

Philip didn't even blink; if anything, his gaze became even frostier. "And they met here.

How . . . interesting."

"Yes, it was quite romantic."

"I'll take your word for it."

Helene led him toward the far end of the salon so that he could see the whole room. To her right, a group of young women and men were engaged in a game of cards that necessitated stripping off various items of clothing. Screams and giggles arose from the table as one of the women slowly rolled down her stocking and tossed it and her silk garter onto the steadily growing pile of clothing.

"These are the more public rooms. My clients are able to enjoy a series of entertainments, participate in group sexual acts, and enjoy themselves without worrying."

"I can see that."

Philip's tone was scarcely encouraging, his face even less so.

Helene faked a laugh. "You disapprove, sir?"

"Of course I disapprove. Such behavior is scarcely appropriate in public, is it?"

"It depends how you define 'public,' sir. This is a private club. People pay to belong to it and for the privileges it offers them."

"The privilege to behave like rutting fools."

Helene shrugged. "There is nothing wrong with that, is there? Sometimes we all need to be foolish."

"If you insist, madame."

The scathing glare he gave her ignited something fierce and low in her chest. How dare he stand there and judge her and her patrons? She raised her eyes to his, a challenge in her gaze.

"Perhaps you should leave now, monsieur. This is only the beginning of the foolishness. I would hate to shock you."

A muscle twitched in his cheek. "I doubt you will do that. Please, show me more."

"If you insist, monsieur."

She led him back through both of the large public salons, making sure he got a good view of the naked jugglers and the exotic dark-skinned woman performing the dance of the seven veils. He said nothing and his face betrayed no emotion. What had happened to turn him into such a dull stick of a man?

In the hallway beyond the two salons, Helene paused.

"Beyond the public areas are more secluded rooms." She gestured at the line of doorways. "On this floor, we cater to the more popular sexual fantasies."

"How do you decide what they are?"

His quiet question surprised her, and she glanced up to find him watching her intently.

"Over the years, certain scenarios have been requested by our patrons many times. I keep a list of those favorites. When people stop enjoying a particular scenario, we simply change the theme and introduce another from our list."

"How efficient."

"This is a business, sir."

Why was she so intent on impressing him? Not only had he forgotten her, but he was treating her achievements with utter contempt. What had he expected to find here? Hadn't Gideon told him exactly what she provided? Well, if she couldn't impress him, she'd make sure she shocked him right down to his conservative, fuddy-duddy—no doubt churchgoing—toes.

"Would you like to go into one of the rooms?"

It was a deliberate challenge, and she waited for his response with a calm smile.

"Why not?"

"Perhaps you would like to choose which room to enter. The themes are on the doors."

He glared down at her. "I'd rather you chose. You are the expert."

At random, Helene pointed at the third door on the left. The plaque on the door read BLIND man's bluff. "Let's go in here, shall we?"

He followed her into the darkened room and took a seat next to her. She focused her attention on the center of the room, where an oiled naked man was being tied to a black-painted backdrop. A narrow white silk scarf covered his eyes. When the man's hands had been secured above his head and his ankles locked in place, a collective sigh of feminine approval echoed around the room.

Helene hid a smile as one of the women in the audience crept forward and began to touch the man. Soon, a sea of females surrounded him, sucking and licking his skin, kissing him on the mouth, caressing his erect cock.

Beside her, Philip Ross shifted in his seat. Did the erotic tableau arouse or disgust him?

Helene couldn't tell in the half-darkness; all she could sense was the heat and tension radiating from him. She risked a glance at his profile and saw his gaze was fixed on the scene, his mouth a hard line. He shuddered as one of the women fell to her knees and drew the man's cock into her mouth.

"I refuse to watch such—"

He got to his feet and blundered toward the door. Helene followed him out as quietly as she could. She found him farther down the deserted hallway, his back to the wall, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Monsieur? Are you feeling unwell?"

He raised his head to stare into her eyes, and she experienced a moment of pure fear.

"How should I be feeling after being forced to experience such appalling behavior?"

"I'm not quite sure what you found appalling, sir. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely."

"Apart from that poor man, beset by those harlots."

Helene allowed him to see her smile. "That 'poor man' has been waiting a month for that experience."

"Are you trying to tell me that he wanted to be used like that?"

She shrugged. "This is a house of pleasure, sir. If that is his notion of pleasure, then I can only offer him the opportunity to enjoy it."

"Ah, so those harpies are paid to pretend to enjoy him."

"Not at all. Everything offered here is a choice. No one is forced to do anything."

He snorted. "I hardly think any respectable woman would choose to behave like that."

Helene took his arm and guided him to the far end of the hallway, where there was less chance of them being overheard.

He turned to stare out of the narrow window, his shoulders set and his back stiff. Helene studied his rigid profile.

"You might be surprised what a respectable woman wants. Almost all the women in that room are titled ladies." She looked up at him from under her lashes. "I can only apologize. Perhaps I chose a room your wife would've preferred more than you."

"My wife would never stoop to such salacious behavior."

"Perhaps you should bring her here and see if that is true? You might be surprised."

He swung around to face her more fully. "My wife is dead. But I can assure you that such erotic displays would have shocked her immeasurably."

How terrible for you.
It took all of Helene's resolve not to speak the words out loud. If Philip's wife had indeed been such a lady, it was no wonder he looked so repressed and unhappy.

She took a deep breath. "I apologize again, sir. I should not have mentioned your wife."

"Why not? I'm sure you've been wondering about her all these years."

"I beg your pardon?"

Philip shrugged. "You know who I am. Don't try and lie to me."

"Indeed I do, monsieur." Helene paused to gather her defenses. "I thought you must have forgotten me, and I hesitated to remind you of my existence."

His smile was almost a sneer. "How could I forget you? You haven't changed at all."

Helene touched her face. "That is hardly true. I am no longer eighteen."

His laugh was harsh. "Thank God for that."

"I'm not quite sure what you mean. I'm certainly glad I'm not eighteen anymore. I make far wiser choices than I did then." She swallowed hard. "I sincerely regret my comments about your wife. I did not intend to cause you pain."

"You did not intend to cause me pain."

His loaded words hung in the air between them, throwing her back to the nights they'd shared, the feel of his skin against hers, his laughter and the delights of their lovemaking.

Had she
hurt him?
Helene focused her attention on his plain white cravat to avoid looking into his face.

"Why are you here, sir?"

"Because Lord Gideon Harcourt brought me and because I've often wondered if the infamous Madame Helene could possibly be you."

"I am infamous?"

He bowed. "You are renowned as the woman who can have five men a night and still be looking for another for breakfast. A woman who only has to look at a man to drive him to his knees and make him forget anything but having you."

"If that were true, I would indeed be an amazing woman. But I have learned never to listen to gossip." She tried to laugh. "And now that you have seen me, what will you do?"

He raised her chin with his finger. "Surely that depends on you?

"I do not understand."

He bent his head until his mouth met hers and outlined her lips with his tongue. Before she could protest, he kissed her, backing her up against the wall while he ravaged her mouth. She responded from somewhere deep inside as his remembered texture and taste flooded her, taking her off guard and into a world of pure sensation.

She flattened her hands against the grooved wooden paneling to stop herself from touching him. She couldn't stop her reaction to his kiss, which was as immediate and heated as his own. His body pinned her to the wall from knee to neck; his cock was hard against her stomach.

When he drew back, she would've stumbled if he hadn't caught her arm and pushed her back against the wall. She watched as he retrieved his handkerchief and deliberately wiped the red stain of her lip color from his mouth.

"You did say that no one gets paid for engaging in sexual activity in your establishment?"

Unable to speak, Helene simply nodded. He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.

"Then perhaps you'll fit me into your no doubt already full roster for tonight."

A roaring sensation destroyed Helene's common sense. She stepped forward and slapped him hard on the cheek.

"I also said that everyone here has a choice to participate in sexual acts or not." She curtsied. "Good night, Mr. Ross."

He shrugged. "Let me know when you change your mind. I'm sure you'll run out of men soon."

"I wouldn't bed you if you were the last man on earth."

His eyebrows rose. "Is that a challenge? You should know better than to throw down the gauntlet like that."

"Good
night,
Mr. Ross."

Helene gathered her skirts and turned away from him, heading for the private areas of the house. She wanted to run from the cynicism and dislike on his face but refused to give him the satisfaction. How dare he appear and insinuate that she was in some way responsible for how he had turned out? If anyone had a complaint to make about the results of their night together, surely it was her?

Mon Dieu, the twins ...
She touched her fingers to her lips, remembered his possessive kiss, and shivered. Despite her annoyance, if he had kissed her for much longer, she would have entwined her arms around his neck and held him close. That would've been a huge mistake. With the twins being in the house and Marguerite's disappearance, she was far too vulnerable to deal with Philip Ross at the moment. Hopefully he had seen what he wanted and would now leave her in peace.

Chapter Nine

Philip Ross contemplated the remains of his breakfast and stared out of the dirt-encrusted window of the house on Hans Street he'd rented for the Season. Last night had not gone well. He'd recognized Helene before Gideon introduced them and had plenty of time to school his features into an expression of polite disinterest before he had to face her.

Helene had not been given the same advantage. He'd seen the shock in her eyes when they'd been introduced, enjoyed it even, although she'd been quick to mask it. He was surprised at the heat of the resentment that shuddered through him as he saw her in her element, presiding over her "house of pleasure," a fancy name for a brothel if ever he'd heard one. How dare she be so radiant when he was ... Ruthlessly he pushed his self-pitying thoughts away.

He finished his coffee and reached for the pot to have more. How the hell had she remained so beautiful? His cock had responded before he'd even drawn a breath to speak to her. He groaned and shoved a hand through his hair. So many years since he'd seen her, so many memories that came flooding back as soon as he'd smelled her unique lavender-and-roses scent.

At least he was old enough now not to be led astray by his cock. Helene had taught him that lesson well. But he had kissed her, and the kiss, although meant to be an insult, had turned into something far more potent and enjoyable. She'd felt perfect beneath his hands, her body warm and pliable, her mouth deliciously sinful and inviting.