A Touch of Passion (26 page)

“Is someone taking my name in vain?” Sebastian Hawkestone, Marquis of Coldhurst, entered Christian’s study. He was immaculately dressed, as usual, and on his face was the very contented smile that had been there for the past few weeks. The sorrow that had haunted his eyes for months had disappeared once he learned he had not killed his wife’s brother in a duel—he had been framed for Doogie Hennessey’s death by their villainess. Sebastian was now blissfully married to Beatrice, and Christian had never seen his friend so happy.

“Speaking of the benefits of love, here’s a man I never would have thought would be happy to give up his rakish ways,” Christian mused. He looked at the clock on the mantel. “So you’ve finally found the need to leave your bedchamber? And it’s before lunch for a change.”

“I have a duty to keep my wife completely satisfied,” came Sebastian’s quick reply.

“Oh, I see. It’s all for her pleasure,” Arend offered dryly.

The three men looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Sebastian walked to the window to look out. “I say”—he waved a hand at the window—“those two seem to be getting quite cozy.” He turned a concerned face to his friends. “Do we expect trouble? I suppose it was inevitable that at some point two or more of us would fall for the same woman. Has anyone told Grayson?”

Christian looked at Arend. “Should we? Should we tell him to get his arse back here and fight for her?”

Sebastian stopped in his task of pouring himself a drink. “Of course we should. I saw his face when she was ill. He was out of his mind with worry. If that’s not a man deeply in love, I don’t know what is.”

Arend shook his head and said, “I’ve got someplace I need to be. I’m not explaining this all again.” He turned to Sebastian. “Grayson knows what’s happening with Maitland, and he’s hoping they become a couple so he doesn’t have to face his greatest fear. What’s ironic is that he fears losing her, but if she marries Maitland he’s lost her anyway.”

A young feminine voice came from the open doorway. “Mother frequently tells me that most men are silly creatures. Lord Blackwood is being very silly, according to Mama and Lady Serena and Lady Beatrice. However, I’ve written to him and told him to come to Dorset before everything goes wrong. I can’t stand Lady Portia being so sad.”

Christian looked at his adopted daughter, Lily, in horror. She’d just turned thirteen, and with all the ladies in the house at present, she was trying so hard to be more grown up than she actually was. Over his friends’ laughter he asked, “What exactly did you write to Lord Blackwood, young lady?”

Lily hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself. Her bottom lip trembled as her father’s friends continued to laugh.

When Arend saw the change in her face, he stopped laughing and said, “We are not laughing at you, Lily. Merely at the idea of Grayson reading your letter.”

Christian knew what they were thinking: that being scolded and given relationship advice by a young girl would be leveling.

“Go on, Lily. Tell us what you wrote.”

She came and stood in front of Christian, her head bowed. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Like him, I lost my parents, and I thought it might help him to hear from someone who understands that kind of sadness. I also wanted to tell him that it’s good to face your fears. When I was little I was petrified of water. In the hot, humid summers, Father would take us to the river. But I was too scared to go in. My father always told me a brave man faces his fears. So one summer I waded into the water and deliberately bent down and stuck my head under the water. It was not long until I could paddle, and then Father taught me to swim. If I hadn’t been brave and learned to swim, when we visited Jamaica I would have missed out on swimming in the beautiful clear blue water.”

Christian pulled her to him and hugged her tightly. “Quite right, Lily.” After a moment he gently added, “So you didn’t mention His Grace?”

A blush turned her cheeks rosy. “Well, I told him my story, and then told him to buck up and face his fears or he would lose Lady Portia to His Grace.”

“Gentlemen, our dilemma has been sorted out for us. Now it’s up to Grayson.” Christian placed a kiss on Lily’s cheek. “What do you think, sweetheart? Will Lord Blackwood arrive to sweep Lady Portia off her feet?”

“I hope so, Papa, or both of them will be unhappy for a long time.”

The room fell silent.

At last Sebastian rose. “I think I shall go and pry Maitland away for a gallop over your fine fields, Christian.” From Sebastian’s tone, Christian suspected he was about to have a heart-to-heart with the duke.

Lily said, “Lord Aubury promised to take me riding too, and he’s late. That’s why I came. I thought he had forgotten.” She turned to Arend and said, “Papa told me it’s not gentlemanly to keep a lady waiting.”

Arend bowed low over her hand and said, “Very true,
mon amie
.”

“That’s French, and it means ‘my friend,’” Lily proudly said.

“So it does.” The Frenchman rose and bowed to the room. “It would seem I have the pleasure of a ride with a very pretty girl. Where shall we go?” he asked her as he held out his arm for Lily.

“Can we ride to the village? There is a baby shawl I have been saving up for, and I want to get it for Serena.”

Once the others had left, Christian had his study to himself once again. He thought about what Arend had told him about Grayson feeling responsible for his burns. He moved to the mirror, removing his jacket as he went, and undid his cravat. He pulled his shirt off his shoulder, stared at the mass of twisted and scarred flesh that lay underneath, and tried to remember the unbearable pain, but he couldn’t. His mind, heart, and soul were full of love, hope, and joy. Serena was about to bear him his first child, and while the prospect that something might happen to his wife in childbirth frightened him, he was so excited. Nothing was going to dampen the joy of this moment.

Serena had turned his life around, and he wouldn’t change anything he’d been through, because otherwise they might never have met. He’d go through the fires of hell again if it meant being able to spend his life with her.

Why was Grayson not willing to do the same for Portia if he was in fact in love with her? Perhaps Arend had misread the situation, he thought; Arend was not a man who had ever been in love.

Christian knew one thing for certain: he needed to write to Grayson and ask him to return to Dorset. He wasn’t about to let the problems between Grayson and Portia upset Serena. Plus, it seemed that he needed to explain to Grayson, in person this time, that he did not blame him for his burns. He knew what guilt could do to a man. It ate him up from the inside until there was nothing left. And he certainly didn’t wish that for Grayson.

Hadley fidgeted with his cane as the two Libertine Scholars walked up the stairs to a door that looked like any other, in a street in Mayfair that was a haven of respectability. Yet behind the door lay a gentlemen’s club. However, the ladies to be found within were few and far between—just enough to ensure that the law and society turned a blind eye to the type of club Top Hat actually was. This club catered to any and all tastes—some best not mentioned.

“God’s truth, Hadley, they aren’t going to rape us. Please relax or we’re unlikely to be welcomed across the threshold. No one is going to talk to us if we don’t blend in.” Grayson blew out an impatient breath, and he took Hadley’s cane and rapped on the door.

This was the sixth club they had visited in the past week, and he was hoping to finally meet a man who had worked for DePalma. The money they were splashing around paid dividends. One of the ladies at a previous club had sent word earlier today that she’d heard of a man who’d worked for DePalma, and that this man ran the club called Top Hat.

The door was answered by a respectable-looking butler who bowed before saying, “Gentlemen, may I be of service?”

Grayson replied in the code they had been given by the prostitute. “
Bonjour.
We are here to view the statue of Eros.”

The butler looked them over, and Grayson stared back, giving him a smile he hoped was friendly and knowing.

The butler merely said, “Enter. All gentlemen new to Top Hat are to be introduced. Please follow me to the drawing room.”

As he stepped over the threshold, Grayson noticed two towering, brawny men obviously guarding the door behind the refined butler. There was nothing refined about these two brutes. He hoped tonight passed with no unpleasantness. They were at least half a foot taller than Grayson, and at six foot three he was not a short man. They had to be at least close to three hundred pounds apiece.

The noise of the sin club began to penetrate his senses. He heard men laughing, men moaning in ecstasy, and the whirl of the blackjack wheel loud and clear. There were the odd women on display, wearing very little and carrying trays of food and drink, but the clientele were predominantly male.

He saw Hadley’s step falter as they passed an alcove where a threesome was in action. A man was being sucked off while another rogered him from behind, all with a large and vocal audience. He nudged Hadley with his elbow, as if to say,
Keep calm.

The sights and sounds of the male focused sin club didn’t disturb Grayson. As long as sex was consensual and it made men happy, who was he to object? Women had had to sell themselves to survive since time began, so why should he look down on a man who had to do the same?

The drawing room was up the first flight of stairs, and even Grayson had to steel his expression at the decadence of the room. The room was swamped in silk panels, some floating above them suspended from the ceiling as if he’d stepped into an Arab harem. He was transported to a fantasy world where nude statues of males abounded. And not only statues—standing along one wall were several young men, whose ages he didn’t want to think too much about, all completely naked except for a loincloth made of see-through gauze.

However, his gaze was drawn to the center of the room. Lounging on a fur-covered settee lay a man who looked to be the same age as Grayson. Even Grayson could see he was extremely handsome. He wore a pair of harem pants and a silk waistcoat, unbuttoned so that his toned chest and stomach were on display. His features were sharp and defined, his face arresting to the point Grayson suspected that both men and women found him irresistible. If desire could be a person, this man would come close.

It was the man’s eyes that drew people in, Grayson thought. At first glance their blueness, like that of a cloudless day, caused a smile to tug at the lips; the long lashes, like silk fans protecting the deep pools, flirted with the senses. But with a closer look at this fair-haired Adonis, this Greek god with a lean body sculpted from pure muscle, the deadness that lay behind the beauty became visible.

The man looked Hadley over before turning his cold gaze Grayson’s way. One of his eyebrows rose, and a sly smile made his good looks even more angelic-looking.

“My, my. What gorgeousness has entered my tent?”

Even the man’s voice seemed like a caress, light and lyrical. He swung his legs to the floor and stood up, moving toward where the two men stood awkwardly. Hadley moved a step closer to Grayson’s side.

The man stopped in front of Grayson, his head barely reaching Grayson’s chest. “You wish to join my club, gentlemen? I’ve been involved with clubs like mine since I was twelve years old. I would remember seeing a man such as you, and I haven’t.” He poked Grayson’s chest. “They tell me you’d like to taste the forbidden. I ask myself, why the sudden interest?” He moved around the two of them, inspecting and assessing.

“I have a test for any new member. For all I know you could be aligned with the Runners, or worse—sent to spy on my members and either report them or blackmail them. I can’t let just any man enter here.” He snapped his fingers, and two young men advanced toward where Grayson and Hadley stood. Without asking any questions, they immediately began to undo the flap of their breeches. Hadley cursed and slapped at the hands of the boy in front of him; Grayson merely grimaced and stepped backward, fending off the other boy’s hands.

“Has either of you had your cock suckled by a man?” He didn’t wait for them to answer. “Men are infinitely better at it. Their mouths know what men desire. They have more of a robust and thorough mouth action.”

Hadley swatted again at the young boy’s hands and Grayson knew it was time to lay their cards on the table.

He gently pushed the other young man away from him. “We are not here for this,” Grayson said, doing up his breeches as he spoke, his eyes never leaving the Adonis. “We are also not interested in knowing the identity of your members or reporting you to the police.”

The Adonis waved the boys back to their positions against the wall. He looked Grayson over as if eyeing a succulent feast, and a shiver ran down Grayson’s spine. “Pity.” Then Adonis walked back to his couch and lay down. “I’m getting bored. You had best make your reason for entering my club interesting.”

“We are here inquiring after a brothel owner called DePalma.”

Adonis was good, Grayson noted; the tightening in his shoulders and the slight narrowing of his eyes were barely noticeable.

“I have never heard of her.”

“I never said DePalma was female.” Grayson kept his voice flat, hiding his excitement.

The color drained from Adonis’s face, and he jumped to his feet. “I like men who are clever, just not too clever.” He waved a hand in the air. “I may have heard tales of this woman. What makes you think I know her?”

“Someone told us you used to work for her.”

The brothel owner did not like that, and his hand curled into a fist. “You must be
very
wealthy and
very
persistent for someone to risk my displeasure by telling you such a tale.”

Grayson would not be put off. “I have no wish to pry into your affairs, Mr., ah …”

“You may call me Angelo.”

“Mr. Angelo, all I require is information on where DePalma is. The woman seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Many in our profession work to find a way out. They change names and identities. It’s hard to leave this life if everyone knows what you used to do.”