Sins of a Duke (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

Constance walked up to the most luxurious gaming club in all of London as if it were a normal occurrence to do so and knocked. A man who seemed to be the majordomo opened the door. He was dressed in a black evening coat, snowy white undershirt, and white bow tie, with his hair slicked back without a strand out of place. He would have looked elegant and dashing if not for the cold, hard expression on his face.

He raised a brow and ran an insolent gaze over her length. His regard switched to Charlotte and a quick frown chased his features.

“I… We…” Constance bit her lips hard wondering if she should simply say the secret word.

“Your rings?” he asked in a silted voice, his question encompassing her and Charlotte.

Constance swallowed and prayed Lucan had not been jesting. “Revenant.”

The man stiffened, peered at her for a few long seconds, and then sketched a deep bow. “Lord Ainsley, at your service. This way ladies,” he said after taking their coats and dominos and handing it to another man.

The Earl of Ainsley? She wanted to question why he had been the one to open the club door, but she kept her nose firmly to herself. He prowled ahead of them at a leisurely pace. Charlotte adjusted her mask and glanced at Constance. She lifted her chin and walked after the man. They traveled through a long hall, passed several doors, and Constance could hear the din of laughter filtering to the hall. They came upon a massive door, which swung open without the man even knocking. He waved them through, and Constance stepped into the sheer opulence of a grand ballroom. She grounded to a halt and Charlotte almost ran into her.

Three floors rose in stunning splendor. The ceiling was made of stained-glass panels and dozens of glittering chandeliers hung suspended, their lights dancing off the hundreds of men and women in their finery. The masks of the patrons glittered, some fanciful, some exquisitely designed, and some darkly fashioned into looks of darkness and decadence. Couples embraced publicly in several corners on chaise lounges, and those who danced were certainly closer than what was appropriate. Constance swallowed as she saw a man and woman kissing in the most scandalous fashion for all to see. She became painfully aware how much young ladies of society were sheltered. Suddenly her corset felt too tight and fear wafted through her. She was out of her league.

But she had to admit the place was magnificent. The décor consisted of dark, rich paneled woods, peach and silver velvet drapes lined the walls, and the luxurious orient carpet that covered the floors and the staircase was the richest and most beautiful she had ever seen. The walls were lined with massive gilded columns that were swathed in cloths with oriental colors so vibrant they seemed exotic. Raucous laughter and conversation spilled down the stairs and Constance stared in awe at the dozens of glasses layered on each other in a fountain floating with golden liquid.

“What is it?”

“Champagne,” the earl responded.

A fountain of champagne? The very notion was simply…
decadent
. “Is this why Mondvale is referred to as the Lord of Sin?” the question spilled out before she could stop herself.

Lord Ainsley glanced at her almost bemusedly. “If you are asking me if Lucan’s moniker was given because he dazzled society with a fountain of champagne you should not be here, Lady Constance. You are ignorant of what is considered sinful.”

Charlotte gasped and Constance froze. How did he know it was her? “I…”

A fleeting smile touched his lips. “Relax, your secret is safe with me. I will have someone attend to you.”

Before she could speak, he melted away into the crowd.

“Oh my goodness, Connie, he knew who you were. I think we need to leave immediately.”

“He said we were safe.”

Charlotte gaped at her. “And you believed
him
?”

A loud shriek drew Constance’s gaze to a lady slapping a man kissing the globes of her breasts. Constance remembered Lucan had said he catered to Society’s finest. The stunning hypocrisy of everything had a surge of rage firing in her veins. Here they chortled, tossed the dice, danced the most scandalous dances, and they were members of the
haute monde
. But they felt protected behind their masks. Actions they would judge other people for, cut them for, refused to speak with them for, they were here indulging in liberally.
The hypocrites
.

A man appeared at their side as if by magic with two glasses of champagne. “What will be your pleasures this evening, madams? The dancers will soon be out in the smaller ballroom if you would like to observe. We have several card parties tonight. Games of Baccarat, poker, Hazard, roulette, Vingt et un, and Faro running in the game rooms, or if you would like to have dinner—”

“I would like to see the Duke of Mondvale,” she interrupted him curtly.

“Very well, this way, Madame.”

They walked around the crush of people to a slim foyer that ran almost parallel to the ballroom. Constance could not help ogling the magnificence of the place. They entered what appeared to be the smaller ballroom, and she slowly blinked. Everyone there was dressed in elaborate costumes and wore masks. It had been a stab in the dark on her part to appear incognito. Never had it occurred to her that everyone else would be similarly attired.

He led them to a chaise near the refreshment table. “I will inform His Grace you are here.”

“Thank you.”

“Whom may I tell His Grace is requesting his presence?”

She inhaled to steady her nerves. “Please inform him that Miss Desiree Hastings is here, and will not leave until she has an audience.”

He sketched another small bow and melted away.

Constance was surprised at how quiet the crowd was as if they waited for something to start. She strained to see where they were all looking. The crowd then roared in approval and her lips parted in astonishment as scantily dressed women twirled out in perfect synchronization onto a space made for them on the ballroom floor.

“My goodness!” Charlotte exclaimed.

Constance thought they were beautiful as they launched into a vigorous dance, their legs kicking scandalously high in such perfect unison. With an unwilling fascination she could not control, she rose to her feet and strolled closer for a better view. Her breath caught. She could see the ladies garters, black stockings, and drawers as they kicked and twirled their long red shirts. She gasped as the dancers struck several provocative poses and then bent over, throwing their skirts over their backs, showing their rear end to the cheering audience.

She was certainly standing in a den of sin and decadence, and she was about to have a private audience with the man who lorded over it.

She was definitely out of her element.

…

Lucan still could not credit that Constance was in his club. When Thomas had informed Lucan that a Miss Desiree Hastings was here to see him he had stuttered. His factotum in turn had been intrigued that a woman had rendered Lucan to such a state.

Not even a few seconds had passed when Ainsley strolled into the office.

“Lady Constance—”

“Thomas informed me,” Lucan snapped.

Ainsley smiled. “You need to get down there soon. The lady is oblivious, but I have seen more than a few curious looks aimed her way, hungry looks,” he drawled.

Ignoring him, Lucan left his office with the firm intention of escorting her away from the premises.

“I have told Thomas to escort her to the smaller ballroom,” Ainsley said behind him, laughter rife in his tone.

Their private apartments and offices were on the third floor of the building, so it would take Lucan a few minutes to reach her. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he forced himself to walk down the halls at a measured pace. It would not do for anyone to see him running, especially one of his interfering friends.

He descended to the second floor and walked along the hallway to the door leading to the smaller ballroom. He entered and scanned the crowd from the balcony looking for her unique blond hair. The reckless fool probably did not even realize how recognizable she was. The highest echelons of society were members of
Decadence
. All of his patrons were gentry mixed with the
haute monde.
She could be recognized by anyone.

The idea of her being at the club rattled him. Whatever distance he placed between them while he plotted to bring down Calydon was necessary. For Constance made him yearn for the impossible, to put aside his vengeance and pursue a life with her. She was proving to be his most dangerous opponent yet. No other had ever made him doubt his chosen path as she did now. Not even his closest friends had the power to sway him with their arguments. But she had the capability to do so with a mere stare. And she was
here
.

Lucan stood transfixed when he identified her. She wore an icy blue gown cut to showcase her exquisite charms. He would recognize her shape anywhere, the sharp but feminine shape of her face, and sensually curved lips. She had been ingenious enough to don a vivid red wig that complemented her creamy skin tone in the most alluring manner. The eye mask she also wore served to disguise her even further. If he had not been intimately acquainted with her, he would not have known he was looking at Lady Constance. Not so foolish after all, but still reckless.

A slow appreciative whistle came from his left, and Marcus came up beside him. Lucan gritted his teeth in annoyance for his friend seemed as equally transfixed.

“Who is she?”

“Out of bounds,” Lucan said flatly. He could feel Marcus’s astonishment. It was unlike Lucan to be possessive of any female.

Marcus’ gaze slashed back to her. “My God, is that Lady Constance? I have heard about her charms from Ainsley and the Reverend, but I thought they exaggerated.”

At Lucan’s silence Marcus chuckled. “It is, isn’t it? I had heard the lady to be blond. But from the way your hands are digging into the railings—”

“It is her,” Lucan said cutting off Marcus’ taunting.

Lucan forcibly relaxed his hand and released the balcony railing.

“Fearless little thing isn’t she?”

“I think you mean reckless,” Lucan growled.

Marcus glanced at him in apparent bemusement. “I think her presence here tonight is all you need to draw Calydon into a deeper trap of your making. Yet you seem angry with her.” He continued in his taunting drawl, “Curious indeed. I am beginning to think the Reverend is correct in his assertions. You need to marry the lady.”

Lucan narrowed his gaze, taking in her fascination with the women dancing the can-can. Someone moved to stand beside her, and he recognized Lady Ralston from her posture alone. Both of them were oblivious to the various stares directed their way. All from men, and from the hunger in their regard, he knew without a doubt what they were thinking.

“Damn it!” he was thoroughly annoyed with both women. The risk they took amazed him.

“And who is that?” Marcus asked. His gazed directed solely on Constance’s companion.

“Lady Ralston.”

“Is she off bounds as well?”

“No, but tread carefully. The lady is too fragile for your attentions. I can assure you she is not here for any dalliance.”

Marcus frowned. “Fragile?”

“Her husband was not the most pleasant fellow.”

Marcus stiffened. “I forgot you have a dossier on almost everyone in contact with Lady Constance. So the lady is married.”

Lucan threw a curious look at Marcus. He sounded disappointed. Too disappointed. Lady Ralston was a fetching young lady. Her dark hair was cropped into short riotous curls, and without a mane of hair distracting an observer, one could easily immerse themselves in the prettiness of her pixie features. But it was her turquoise eyes that were her most stunning feature.

“Widowed,” Lucan imparted. “She married at seventeen to the Earl of Ralston and was widowed two years later. It has been two years since he passed, and the lady has not shown favor to anyone. She has been hounded by a few to become their mistress, a notable attempt was made by the Viscount of Morley, but the lady declined all offers. Instead she chose to work as a ladies companion, despite the amount of debt the late earl left.”

“What are you going to do in relation to Lady Constance? It is evident the lady did not agree with whatever you said to her in the gardens,” Marcus said after a few quiet moments.

“It seems I need to be more brutal,” Lucan mused.

Without waiting for Marcus’s reply, Lucan descended the stairs and headed toward Constance. He did not trust the curl of anticipation that traveled inside of him. He hoped he had the strength to turn her away and not succumb to the raging lust that leapt to life inside of him the moment he had been told she was in his club. If he took her, he would ruin her further when he now wanted her protected. For though the Reverend and Ainsley encouraged him, he would never marry her, no matter how tempting the thought.

Chapter Twelve

Constance felt Lucan before she saw him. She glanced up and spied him prowling toward her. He was exquisitely dressed in black trousers and a pristine white shirt that emphasized the broad width of his shoulders, and a black tailcoat cut to fit his frame superbly. The only dash of color was his dark toned silver waistcoat. She guarded herself against the pleasure tingling through her. The man who walked toward her was coolly distant, and no sign of welcome or even pleasure at seeing her showed on his face.

“Why are you here?” he demanded upon reaching her.

She bit back her instinctive angry retort. “I would like to see you in private,” she said firmly. “I risked much to speak with you, and I would welcome an audience with you.”

His eyes hardened, and she tried not to fidget. She must appear resolute and unflappable.

“Welcome to
Decadence
, Miss Hastings, I am Marcus Stone. Please allow me to entertain your companion while you confer with His Grace in private,” the man who had walked up beside Lucan drawled smoothly. Mr. Stone was a handsome sort, but in a rough way. His dark brown hair was long enough to be tied in a queue, and his pale blue eyes seemed to laugh at her.

Lucan’s lips flattened and the glare he directed at Mr. Stone shriveled her inside, even though it was not aimed at her. Mr. Stone only smiled and held his arm out to Charlotte. Constance heard Charlotte’s soft indrawn breath, but she laid her hand on his sleeve. Constance glanced at Charlotte and was surprised to see a blush on her cheeks.

“I…thank you, Mr. Stone,” Constance replied, unsure of what else to say.

He inclined his head and walked away with Charlotte, who looked over her shoulder and mouthed for Constance to be careful. Constance nodded in confirmation and gave her a reassuring smile.

She glanced at Lucan to see him watching Mr. Stone and Charlotte with a neutral mien.

“Will she be safe with Mr. Stone?”

Cold silver eyes looked down on her. “Lady Ralston is a widow. I am sure she knew what Mr. Stone wanted when he led her away.”

She gaped at him. “Are you saying he has designs on Charlotte?” Constance squeaked, wondering if that was what she had seen on the man’s face while he looked at her friend. His regard had been unsettling.

“She is in capable hands,” he said flatly.

Constance considered his closed expression for a few seconds. “Will we go somewhere to converse?”

He stared at her for the longest while without responding and nervousness shivered inside of her.

“Follow me,” he clipped.

She released the pent up breath she had been holding and walked beside him. It had been a gamble that he would accede to her demand. She had fully expected him to put up a greater fight and possibly drag her outside to her waiting carriage. Without speaking, he ascended the stairs that led from the room. After climbing a second flight of carpeted stairs, the din of everything droned away, and she could hear nothing from the hallway along which they walked. Then he opened an oak door and she entered what looked like a library.

“Do you understand how dangerous it is for you to be here?” he asked as they entered.

“To my reputation?”

“Yes.”

“I doubt I am in danger of being recognized. I was very discreet.”

She held her breath at the look he leveled on her. He arched his brow insolently and glanced around the library, driving home how secluded they were and that she had deliberately snuck out to be at his club. Her cheeks flamed.

He rang a bell and a butler showed up as if he had been stationed at the door.

“Bring the carriage around for the lady. She will be leaving shortly.”

She waited until the butler closed the door. “I am not leaving,” she said firmly. “Not until you explain to me in full why you decided to end our friendship.”

“I was not aware we were friends.”

“You know what I mean, Lucan.” Constance moved and perched on the side of the sofa, her entire attention on him. “I deserve to know what happened. What you think warranted treating me with such disregard. I have been in a torment of doubt wondering why you decided to halt your courtship. I refuse to be that person where I do not ask for answers, but speculate in misery.”

“I was never courting you.”

She slowly stood from her perch. “I know you never declared to my family but—”

Her words tapered off as he walked over to her, and from the look on his face she knew she would not like what he was about to say.

“I only got close to you so I could use you against Calydon.”

She was sure she misheard. “I beg your pardon?”

“Calydon ruined my sister, and I thought it apt to ruin his in return. That was all, Constance.”

There was a loud buzzing in her head as she tried to comprehend. Lucan had only been using her? To hurt Sebastian? Her mind latched onto possibly the safest topic so she would not lose control. “You have a sister?”

“Had.”

Someone that I held dear was used, disgraced, and abandoned by someone who claimed to love her
.

Constance stepped around him, her hands clasped together to prevent their shaking. She spun to see he had turned with her, watching her with an expression of indifference. “Your sister was the one you held dear to you…that died?”

She saw the answer in his eyes. Some raw and powerful emotion flashed in his silver gaze before the shutters came down.

She nodded weakly. “I see. And everything between us, our carriage rides, picnic, kisses and…”—she flushed—“you were just using me?” He had wanted to ruin her as Sebastian had ruined his sister.
Good heavens!
She pressed a fist to her stomach, suddenly unsure if she wanted the answer. “Tell me about your sister, please, Lucan. I know Sebastian would never hurt anyone intentionally.”

“No,” Lucan growled, anger leaping to his face. “My sister will never be up for discussion. You wanted answers as to why I am not interested in you. You have it.” He stalked over to Constance, and she took a wary step backward. Her back pressed against the bookcase, and she lifted her chin as he stopped so close she felt the heat of him.

“My interest in you was only to use you to hurt Calydon, nothing more. I had intended for you to be seen with me at Lady Beaumont’s ball in a compromising position.”

Her heart stopped beating.

He visibly gritted his teeth. “But I could not do it. I realized, albeit a little late, that Calydon’s sin was not yours to bear. But it seems I may still get my wish, for you are here, behaving with reckless disregard for your tenuous position in society!”

Lucan had planned on compromising her? She felt mortified. She had really believed he had been courting her, that he was falling in love with her. But it had all been about lowering her defenses, leading her to ruin. A cold chill washed over her. “You never intended to court me, to offer for me?” Constance asked in a suffocated voice.

“No,” he said softly. “I have no intention of marrying you or any other society miss.”

“Then why did you kiss me, touch me?”

“You made it appallingly easy to be seduced, Lady Constance.”

The pain clawing at Constance’s throat burned away under the rush of rage, and her hand flew as if by its own volition to slap him. With a quick reflex that startled her, he captured her hand in a gentle hold.

“Constance—”

“Don’t speak my name,” she breathed. “I suppose you think because you did not compromise me you were acting honorably? Well let me tell you, Your Grace, you are a coward,” she choked out. “I do not believe the passion and time we shared was all to ruin me. That could have been achieved without our rides and many outings. I know why you chose to pull away, but you are such a damn coward you prefer to hurt me for a vengeance you do not wish to explain. I
see
how you watch me, how you smile when I laugh. I feel your hunger for me, and I even know when you are aroused and trying to hide it. I hope your vengeance will keep you warm and satisfied for years to come. I will see myself out.”

She wrenched away from him and stormed toward the door. She gasped as hands spanned her waist from behind and lifted her. He tumbled with her onto the sofa, twisting so that he took the brunt of their fall. She landed with an
oomph
on his chest and before she could protest, he pulled her to him and took her mouth in a carnal kiss. The sudden shift from anger to desire was a shock to her system. His tongue plunged past her lips, wicked and alluring. The lush eroticism of his actions made her tremble, and she became helpless against his kiss, a kiss that was ruthless in its demand. His lips stroked over hers, his tongue flickering deep inside.

A craving for him stormed through her defenses, and she fisted her hands in his hair and returned his kiss with all her pent up anger and desire. There was a rustle of silk as he slid her dress up, bunching her mass of petticoats around her thighs. She gasped into his mouth as his fingers unerringly found her slick entrance through the slit in her drawers. Without breaking their embrace, he inserted a finger inside of her, the stroke of his finger matching his tongue, deep and sensual. Constance felt as if fire itself lighted in her veins. Sensations raced across her skin, tightening pleasures low between her legs. She moaned and arched her hip as he inserted a second digit. Despite the burn, the stretch, and the ache, she wanted more. He stroked somewhere deep inside that shot a bolt of pleasure up to her breasts. They felt heavy, and she desperately wanted them free of the corset. He pulled his lips from hers, trailing kisses along her neck to the globes of her breast, but never letting up on the wicked caress between her legs. She let out a hoarse cry as a heavy tide of ecstasy swept over her, splintering her senses.

“So damn beautiful,” he muttered roughly.

He slid from the sofa so that he knelt in front of her and removed his spectacles, placing them beside her on the sofa. He pushed her dress farther up to her hips, and tugged off her drawers baring her to his gaze. A frisson of dangerous exhilaration gripped her, and acting on an instinct she had not known she possessed, she widened her thighs more for him. Emotions she was not able to name flared in the depth of his eyes as he watched her splayed before him so scandalously. Without saying anything, he dipped his head and kissed her in a place she never dreamed could be kissed.

“I don’t think this is proper, Lucan,” she protested, rather too weakly.

Instinctively Constance slid her hands through his thick hair, and she did not know if she wanted to push him away or pull his head more firmly against her. His tongue curled and dipped, before his teeth gently clamped over her knot of pleasure with scorching precision.
Definitely hold his head more firmly
, she reasoned hazily as delight pulsed through her. She shivered violently when the sensual glide of his tongue took her to the same edge his fingers had earlier. But it felt different, gentle and sweeter, but somehow more powerful. The sensations that roared through her had her back bowing off the sofa and uncontrolled cries spilling from her lips as her body surrendered.

Her body felt languid and unfamiliar as it came down from the stunning pleasures. Lucan slowly lowered her dress and petticoats, resting his forehead against her quivering stomach. Minutes passed in silence, and he remained kneeled before her, head rested against her, not speaking or moving.

She knew without a doubt whatever he said next would determine the course of her future with him. She could feel him thinking, fighting with whatever demons were pushing him away from her. Her heart went calm and she simply waited until he was ready, hoping he would confide in her about his sister and whatever he thought Sebastian had done. The intimacy of the moment did not escape her, and it somehow felt more intimate than the pleasure he had just bestowed upon her. A log rolled in the fireplace, and his fingers tightened against her hips. He pressed the softest of kiss against her stomach and then lifted his head. Her heart slammed into her throat. His features were set in dark foreboding lines.

“I do feel something fierce for you, and I would be more than a coward to not admit it. I want to be with you when you are not here. I look for your smiles in the simplest of actions. Am I falling in love? I do not know… I only know there are times I hunger for your presence if only to converse. I desire you more each time I see you. But your brother is my enemy, and that will never change. He ruined my sister, hurt her unimaginably, and then abandoned her. I cannot see you again, Lady Constance, nor will you be admitted to
Decadence
again for you make me doubt my path, and it is a path I will not be swayed from.”

Pain sliced through her, but she was careful not to show her emotions. The man that touched her with such passion, introduced her to pleasure, was a man that wanted her,
needed
her even, and she would concentrate on those feelings. She shifted onto the sofa, shimmying lower so she slid against his chest until she kneeled with him. Leaning back and tilting her head, she held his gaze, and surprise flared through his at her actions.

“Tell me that you can bear the thought of
never
speaking with me or kissing me again, and I will walk away and leave you with your vengeance.”

His throat convulsed, but he did not speak. Her pulse fluttered wildly when he dropped his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. He shifted, kissed her hair, and Constance smiled. He could not say it. She understood, for he was firmly rooted in her heart and the thought of not exploring the growing need between them was unbearable.

“I can see you are not ready to tell me of your sister. I hope one day I will have your trust and you will unburden to me, Lucan,” she whispered. He stiffened, but she continued. “I know Sebastian would never harm anyone. I—”

“No,” the raw force of Lucan’s denial halted her. He continued his voice icy. “I will not hear of Calydon’s innocence from you, when I know his guilt. It is time for you to leave, Constance.”

Lucan rose to his feet with fluid grace and held out his hand helping her to stand. He rang the bell and instantly the door opened and the butler entered.