Suzi Love (43 page)

“What do you think?” Justin decided that if the woman weren’t going to reveal her true identity, he’d continue treating her as a prostitute. “She’d make a fine whip-cracker.”

“Hard to tell,” Bart said. He and Thomas gave the woman an even closer scrutiny. “Not without showing us what sort of body is under that mountain of fabric.”

With a wave of his hand, Justin said, “If you’re new to the profession, love, there’s no need for modesty. We’ve seen it all before.” He indicated the high flyers that filled his room with cheap perfume, cheap clothing, and hopeful looks. “As these girls know, you’ll earn better coin performing for me for a short time than a year’s worth of peddling yourself on the streets.” He flicked a glance at the ornate clock, another thing he’d inherited that he didn’t particularly like but that he had, either from apathy or defiance, left in that same position since his mother had been banished by his father years ago. “But please, if you’re staying, get rid of your clothing. If you’re going, leave now.”

A buxom redhead sat, straddling the arm of his wing chair, and waited for Justin’s return. Naked to the waist, she’d spread her legs wide in a blatant bribe to hire her as one of his dancers. Justin grinned at her, though he spoke to the black-clad woman. “I’ve several pressing matters to attend to.”

“Pressing matters, indeed,” she said, rolling her eyes and not trying to hide her scorn. “I promise to not take up more than ten minutes of your …
valuable time
.”

He gave a small snort of laughter. In response, the strumpet in his chair giggled, an out-of-place girlish sound, cupped both her large breasts, and lifted them higher, to better display her claret nipples. Like lush cherries, they were waiting for a man to open his mouth around them and suck.

“Justin, old boy,” Bart said, his face split with a grin. “You’d better hustle. Those titties are so ripe they’re about to drop off their stalks. If you don’t come, it’ll be my tongue under there and catching them as they fall.”

Justin chuckled. The three men trusted each other implicitly, whether it was with their fortunes or their women. They’d combined their talents, their earnings, and had taken enormous risks in the money market until now — though they didn’t advertise this fact, they owned sizeable slices of London property and English factories. Without his friends’ unflagging support over the past three years, Justin would never have had enough coin to employ dozens of investigators to search across England and Scotland for his mother and sisters.

The woman cleared her throat, loudly, clearly determined to pull Justin’s attention back to her. “My lord, please listen to me. I have a proposal to discuss with you.”

“Look around, pet.” He waved at the posturing demireps. “Every girl here is offering me something tonight.”

Desperate for well-paid employment, the girls took their cue and swarmed around Justin, draping themselves suggestively all over him. There was a chorus of cries and entreaties. “Oooh, yes, yes, my lord” or “Pick me, my lord.” Added to these were many highly exaggerated tributes to his manly physique and his awe-inspiring sexual prowess.

Hearing the outrageous compliments the girls were flinging at him, Bart and Thomas roared with laughter. Above the women’s loud and flattering cries, Justin heard several loud sniggers. Ah ha! His mysterious lady paid attention, even if she declined to reveal herself, or her intentions, quite yet. He smiled inwardly and, as her height was only a couple of inches less than his, looked at her over the tops of several bent female heads. The girls were occupying themselves by licking or kissing every inch of his bare skin they could find. He squirmed, but more from being tickled than from arousal.

“What makes your offer any different?”

“In contrast to these … eh … women,” she said, her eyebrows rising to show what she thought of their antics. “My proposal doesn’t involve anyone undressing. Or at least, not tonight. Perhaps later, though I’m not certain about the specifics.”

It was damned hard to concentrate on the woman’s stumbling explanation, but her insecurities intrigued him. Such a refreshing change from the brazen claims made by many of the titled bitches he’d been forced to deal with. He clasped the hands of the girl intent on unbuttoning the flap of his trousers so he could listen. “I’m offering you an exchange of information and services. One of benefit to us both.”

He was distracted again by a saucy raven-haired temptress creating a ruckus in the middle of the room, a determined effort to claim his attention. She dragged back a large corner of Persian carpet and stood posed, center stage, until she could catch his gaze with her mesmerizing eyes, the obsidian color found in nomadic gypsy tribes. After raising her bare arms, she began to clap and dance and sing in the wild and passionate rhythm of the Rom, the one the gypsies used for arousal. He shrugged an indifferent shoulder and was amused when the fiery gypsy hissed at him.

The teasing vixen reached down to drag her gaily ribboned skirts to her waist, lifted her leg, and proffered her toes for him to suck. She struck an eloquent pose and waited for him to acknowledge the sensual heat of her performance, her compelling eyes issuing a blatant invitation to him for her to join him for more intimate acts later. Justin happily obliged her first demand by drawing her toes, one by one, into his mouth and making loud sucking sounds. Her other, unspoken, demand he ignored.

Muttered but angry-sounding words beside him reminded him it was past time to deal with the black widow, and his throbbing head told him to ignore her proposal, whatever it was, and call a finish to the evening. By now, he should have chosen his line-up of Cyprians and sent them away so he could crawl into bed — alone.

He addressed his assembly. “I apologize for being out of sorts tonight, but this shall be my pièce de résistance. You’ll form the most exotic group of harem slaves ever seen in England, created to entertain the crème de la crème of our society. I shall then be retiring from the Pleasure House.”

“Dammit, Justin, I wish you would reconsider selling the club.” Bart lifted his blond head and fixed him with piercing blue eyes. “I do so enjoy our evenings at the house.”

Justin turned to the woman and gave a half-bow. “So you see, madam, I really don’t care who you are, or what you have to offer. My time in this noble profession is about to come to an end. It appears that you like to watch, though. Stay until we are finished, if it entertains you. Otherwise, my butler will show you out.”

At that moment, Justin pitied his intruder. There was something in her eyes, a weariness that matched his own, and for a split second she’d looked as weighed down with worry as he felt. As if, despite her head making a decision to leave, her body hadn’t agreed and kept her feet nailed to his floor. A lion cub hovering near the shelter of its den while it summoned up the courage to venture into the unknown. Nevertheless, her standoffish attitude had far out- lasted his small store of patience.

He stepped closer and in reaction she moved back. As if remembering her reasons for coming, she shook her head and moved that same pace forward. Not as close as before, yet near enough to appear fearless.

He sighed, and rubbed a fist across his aching eyes. “I’m fatigued, out of sorts, and my friends and I have business to conduct. Either join in, or leave.”

He waved toward the door, hoping she’d walk out and leave him in peace, but also hoping, ridiculously, that she’d unveil, undress, and stay. Because something about this particular woman was different. Something about her stirred his first true sexual interest in many months.

He smiled a little. “I’d still like to see a little more of you. I can’t even see the color of your hair.” He pointed toward her groin. “Top or bottom. Here, let me unbutton you,” he said, his fingers set to work on her top button, brushing the soft skin of her nape as he did so.

She flinched and held tight to the gaping neck of her dress with clenched fists. “Please. Listen to me. I’m not seeking employment.”

“Ah, then you’re simply a bitch in heat like all the others. Wanting a lusty tale to recount to your upper-class friends over tea and cake. Perhaps compare notes on Viscount Hawkesbury’s infamous prowess.”

Her quick series of breaths hissed and sizzled like water spitting on hot coals. He heard the girls tut-tutting nearby, but taunting, teasing, and arousing the lioness who’d dared brave his den so late at night had proved too delicious a temptation to resist. Only one more jest at her expense and then he’d summon the butler and a couple of strong footmen, and bid her farewell.

He turned, slowly and deliberately, and spoke to his two friends. “Gentlemen, which of you is capable of keeping your prick upright long enough to provide such a lusty lady with the thrill she so clearly came to my house seeking?”

Justin knew that in their heightened state of inebriation, neither Bart nor Thomas would be capable of servicing any girl tonight. And the Virile Viscount had given up such jaunts. The only business he involved himself in now was the palace and even then he kept a very low profile. By next month, he’d no longer own that either. His pleasuring days were finished. Investing in the rapidly expanding railway tracks and steam engines was far more profitable, and respectable, for a man who hoped to bring his mother and sisters home to live with him.

Thomas, red-faced, lurched to his feet. “I say, Justin, she seems like a lady.”

“Thomas, you should know by now, on the outside they’re all ladies. However, underneath they all seek the same thing.”

The woman flinched. Justin yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth, and then collapsed back into his armchair. Leaning his head back on the headrest, he laughed.

“My love, if you’ve better to show me than them, do as I’ve asked. Undress!”

She muttered something that sounded like, “Rude swine.”

He laughed and indicated the empty space on the chaise longue beside Bart. “If you’re suffering personal timidity, at least take a seat and watch. Give the girls your opinion on what tricks attract gentlemen the fastest. What do you do to entice a man?”

Her hands fisted at her sides but she stood her ground. “I realize you’re amusing yourself at my expense, but I give you fair warning, my lord. If you continue with these childish taunts and force me to leave without letting me speak to you, in private, you’ll regret it later.”

He pointed to the door. “And I’m also issuing a warning. Join in or leave. Perkins will show you out. I’ve run out of patience with the so-called weaker sex and the schemes and lies that women seem to delight in bringing to my door.”

Bart spat out an uncouth curse while Thomas muttered under his breath, both scolding him for his rudeness. Disgust suddenly flooded Justin’s body and the heart he’d assumed was frozen in his chest clenched, hard. Despite being forced into unseemly money-making ventures, the three of them had vowed to remain, at heart at least, gentlemen. They all needed to take their places in society, which was why Justin never usually entertained this sort of female at his house. Too many watching neighbors and too many wagging tongues in this respectable neighborhood.

Had he now passed the point of no return? Had the indecent acts he’d committed, all to either survive or earn his some of the ready, tainted his thinking to this extent? It terrified him that his morals were as lost as those idiots who assumed a title and riches gave a man leeway to be rude, arrogant, and even to inflict pain on those they considered inferior.

He’d picked out this woman and had intended on using her as an example, encouraging her to pass along his message to the long line of societal whores who would continue to plague him. He wanted to stand in the street and scream and yell, “The Virile Viscount is finished!”

Behavior such as his here showed the arrogance he’d always deplored. Rude attacks on a woman were despicable, and it was especially ill-bred of him to tease and taunt what he now suspected was a well-bred lady. But he’d underestimated the woman’s pluck, or perhaps her determination to make herself heard.

“Be warned, my lord, I shall return. Tomorrow. Early. Very early. And if you refuse to speak with me, I’ll haunt your house until you are prepared to listen to me.”

Her ferocious expression made him burst out laughing again. Bart wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and held out his hand to encourage the woman to take a seat on the thigh of the woman he still held.

“I like her, Justin. Can I have her?”

“Feel free, Bart. If you dare! Though I suspect Thomas is correct. I’ve come to the unwilling, and unfortunate, conclusion that she’s not here to audition for the Harem.”

“Certainly not.” Her tone was icy. “I’m offering you an exchange. Your skill in tutoring my friends in return for information.”

“Regrettably, my services are no longer for hire.”

She inhaled so sharply he swore her ribs vibrated. Then she made her announcement. “If I leave this room, I’ll take with me what may be your last chance to see your mother. Alive, at any rate.”

Justin felt the air suck out of the room. Movements ceased, breaths held, no one spoke. Every person in the room, including the courtesans, was aware of the reason he’d spent four years debasing himself before the wealthiest members of the ton. The reason he forced himself to get out of bed each day, to place one foot in front of the other and go through the rituals, the pretense of living a normal life. Why he arranged wild bedroom antics for women and men that he barely knew and certainly didn’t like or respect.

His guilt festered like an open wound and the pain never lessened. His obsession was to locate his mother and two sisters, to bring them home, and try to make amends for his absence at the time his deranged father had evicted them.

Unable to reply, he shook his head, robbed of coherent thought, unable to believe her declaration. Unable to convince himself it wasn’t another misery-causing lie. Unable to gather the energy to conclude his night’s business. Nothing mattered above the bait she dangled before his nose, the thing he yearned for more than any other — to bring his family back to him.