The Sinners Club (23 page)

He eased his arm out from under her and moved to the side of the bed. His heart hurt like a bloodied, clenched fist. He was supposed to be meeting Mr. McEwan this morning to go over the finer points of the late earl's will, and listen in on his interview with George Mainwaring. He understood Mary's choices so much better now. Her desire to protect Simon had driven everything she'd done. But where did the truth lie? Had Simon really hated every moment of his time with the earl as Mary claimed, or had he even enjoyed the beatings? From what he'd seen of Simon in bed, Jack suspected the latter. But even Simon had admitted that in his later years, the earl had become difficult and cruel.

He tiptoed to the door and gathered up an armful of his clothes. By the time Mary woke up, he might know what George's secret was. Would it harm her, or harm him? The only way to find out was to keep moving forward, and pray that everything would turn out for the best. It was a cliché but for once in his life, he sincerely hoped it would come true.

 

“So, as you see, Mr. Lennox, despite everything the late earl—Mr. Lennox? Are you listening to me?”

With considerable effort, Jack jerked his attention back to Mr. McEwan, who wasn't looking very pleased.

“The late earl, what?”

“Kept his affairs in perfect order. The will was properly witnessed and signed, and is thus a legal document.”

“So unless George Mainwaring comes up with something extraordinary, the will stands, and Mary Lennox receives her full widow's pension, plus anything I choose to bestow on her in the way of a dwelling place, or an increase in her allowance.”

“Exactly, Mr. Lennox. It appears that you were listening after all.” The clock chimed ten times. “Would you care for some refreshment? Mr. Mainwaring is due to arrive here at any moment.”

“No thank you.” Jack looked dubiously around the cramped office. “Are you sure there is somewhere for me to hide in here?”

Mr. McEwan slowly rose to his feet, walked over to one of the bookcases and pulled out a book. To Jack's surprise, a door opened within the shelving to reveal a small chamber beyond.

Jack joined the portly solicitor and examined the latch on the door to make sure it was in working order, and could be operated from the inside as well as the out.

“There is some natural light and ventilation from the small window.”

A loud familiar voice permeated through the thick door of Mr. McEwan's study.

“That sounds like George, perhaps I'll make myself scarce.” Jack took up his position in the secret chamber and waited until Mr. McEwan shut the door. He could see into the office through a grille at eye level and could hear quite well too.

The outer door opened, and George Mainwaring entered, his expression that of a sanctimonious nun. “Mr. McEwan, you took your time in seeing me.”

“I am a very busy man, Mr. Mainwaring. Now, how may I assist you?”

Mr. McEwan took his usual seat behind his desk giving Jack an excellent view of both the men.

“It's about the earldom of Storr.”

“So you said in your letter. I have received a copy of the late earl's last will and testament and everything seems to be in order. May I ask what your concern is?”

“Well, it's like this, you see.” George leaned forward confidentially. “When the earl was dying I went to see him. The damned Picoults tried to keep us all away from him, but I knew he'd want to see me.”

“And why was that, Mr. Mainwaring?”

“Because I'm of his blood, his true family.” He slapped his meaty thigh. “And I was right to go. Jasper was desperate to tell me something.”

“Relevant to the earldom?”

“Aye, he told me that he wanted to find out if any relations of a Mr. Desmond Norris were still alive.”

Jack frowned.
Now what?

“And what exactly do Mr. Norris and his family have to do with the earldom of Storr?”

“He told me that he'd known Mr. Norris and his sister in his youth, and that he was anxious to get in touch with them before his death.”

“Why was it important for him to do so?”

“He wouldn't quite say, at first, but eventually I wheedled it out of him.” George's smile was full of triumphant glee. “He was hoping that Miss Norris was dead because, well, he feared he might still be married to her.”

“But he'd recently married Miss Picoult!”

“Exactly.” George folded his hands on his vast stomach. “Which means that his second marriage is invalid.”

“Did he offer you any proof of this?”

“I asked him where the marriage had taken place and the year. He was a little confused as to the details, but after his death I decided to investigate further. It's taken me all these months to finally discover the truth.” He took a document out of his pocket. “I believe what I have here is a copy of their marriage certificate.”

“Which obviously predates the earl's second marriage. The more important issue is whether Miss Norris is still alive.”

“I met the woman, and she confirmed that she and the earl entered into a clandestine marriage during their early years. She is from farming stock, and seemed to have no idea who Jasper really was when she married him, although he was only a younger son, then with little prospects of advancement. I have a signed letter from her here.”

Mr. McEwan took the paper out of George's hand, unfolded it, and slowly read the contents. “As one of the trustees of the Storr estate, I will have to check these details very thoroughly, Mr. Mainwaring, before I reach a final decision as to their validity.”

“Do you doubt my word, sir?” George scowled. “I have nothing to gain from this. John Lennox will inherit the title, not me. I just knew that bloody woman didn't deserve to be a countess! All I want is those damn Picoults gone from my ancestral house, and exposed as the thieves and liars that they are.”

“Are you suggesting the current dowager knew about the previous marriage?”

“I'll wager she did. It would explain why she tried to keep me away from the earl at the end.”

“That is pure conjecture, Mr. Mainwaring, and I deal in fact.”

“Then deal with that marriage certificate and letter from Miss Norris, and that upstart John Lennox's son.”

“We are still investigating Mr. Lennox's claim too.” Mr. McEwan looked up as George rose to his feet. “Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention, Mr. Mainwaring. It certainly throws a new light on the matter.”

“I thought you should know before you start believing that woman's lies.” George crammed his hat back on his head and picked up his gloves. “I'll wait to hear from you, but don't take too long about it, mind.”

Mr. McEwan didn't reply and George finally left. After a few moments, Mr. McEwan opened the door into the secret room and stood back.

“That was rather unexpected.”

“I would say it was.” Jack took the seat George had recently vacated. “It also complicates matters rather more than I anticipated.”

“If the sixth earl was married to Miss Norris and she is still living, then his marriage to Mary Picoult isn't valid.”

“I gathered that.” Jack pondered the toe of his well-polished boot. “Actually, I wouldn't mind at all if Mary's marriage wasn't valid.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Jack offered him a brief smile. “Never mind. I think I'd like to meet this Miss Norris myself. Will you trust me to investigate the matter before you speak to either the Dowager Countess or to George again?”

“As it is in your best interests to find out the truth, I am happy for you to take on this task.” Mr. McEwan handed Jack a piece of paper. “Here is Miss Norris's information.”

Jack glanced at the paper and nodded. “It isn't that far away. I should be able to make it there and back if I leave now. There is one thing you can do for me. Could you ask my butler, Haddon, to contact a Mr. Nicodemus Theale and have him meet me later tonight at the Sinners?”

“Yes, Mr. Lennox.”

Jack shook Mr. McEwan's hand. “Thank you.”

The solicitor took off his glasses and sighed. “This has certainly been one of the most interesting cases I've worked on for years.”

“Hopefully, all will soon be resolved. Now I must leave, or I'll never make it back to Town for the evening's entertainment.”

“D
id you know about this?” Simon barged into Mary's bedroom, where she was curled up on the bed in a miserable ball, and held out a letter. “It's from Jack. He wants us to meet him at the Sinners Club tonight for a late supper.” He frowned. “It is rather short notice.”

“He probably wants us to join in the orgy he's planning.”

Simon's gaze brightened. “What orgy?”

“How would I know?” She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “He just mentioned it in passing, although if he's asking us to a late supper he's probably hoping to enjoy that first, and attend to us afterward.”

Simon shook his head and tutted. “That man is insatiable.”

Mary glared at him. “Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Talk about him like that, as if that's all he's capable of.”

“My, you are quite besotted with him, aren't you?”

She raised her chin. “Perhaps I just see him for what he is: a man who was just as damaged by others as we were.”

Simon held her gaze for a long moment. “So, do you want to go, or not?”

“I suppose we should.” Mary groaned. What if he'd decided that their night together meant nothing to him, and had retreated back into his charming, charismatic, soulless self? Could she bear to see him like that, knowing the complex and vulnerable man beneath?

There was only one way to find out. She had to face him. If he didn't have the courage to be himself, then he wasn't worth caring about anyway. She had her pension from the late earl, and would live out her life very happily without bothering the new Earl of Storr ever again.

“Mary?”

“What?”

“You're woolgathering, my dear.” Simon tapped his pocket watch. “If you mean to go, we really should change our dress.”

“But it's far too soon!”

He winked at her. “Not if we want to be exceptionally early.”

 

When they arrived at the Sinners Club, the place was already ablaze with lights. Mary was surprised to see that Mrs. Picoult had been correct, and that ladies and gentlemen appeared to be equally welcome within the confines of the club. When the butler saw them come in, he hurried to intercept them.

“My lady, Mr. Picoult, you're rather early. Would you like to wait for Mr. Lennox in his study?”

“He's not finished at the orgy yet?” Simon looked around.

“Not quite, sir. He
is
the host. But I'm sure Mr. Lennox won't be long. He is aware that you are coming.”

Simon winked at Mary. “Don't worry, we'll find him ourselves. Where exactly is this orgy taking place?”

“On the second floor, sir, but—”

“Thank you.” He took Mary's arm and walked past the butler. “We can find it ourselves.”

Mary pinched him hard. “Are you certain you feel like doing this?”

“Why, don't you?”

“I'm not exactly in the mood to throw myself at anyone.”

“Even Jack?”

She favored him with her best glare. “Jack is probably busy.”

“He is the host.”

“And he asked us to wait for him in his study. He's hardly going to be pleased to see us up here, is he?”

“Mary, Mary, when did you become such a prude?” Simon patted her hand. “Letting Jack see you enjoy yourself without a care in the world is the best thing you can do at this juncture. That's what you've always told me in the past.”

Had she? Mary gazed unseeingly at the bright swirl of colors and people crammed into the large salon on the second floor. She didn't want to do that to Jack. She was so tired of playing games....

“Are you by chance, the Dowager Countess of Storr?”

She half-turned to find an older woman dressed in a beautiful sapphire silk Indian robe smiling at her.

“Yes, I am.”

“I thought it must be you. Mr. Lennox told me that you were very beautiful. I'm Lady Westbrook. My husband and I founded the Sinners Club.”

“How very brave of you.” Mary dropped into a curtsey. “I understand that the club welcomes women. That must have been your doing.”

“If a woman has risked her life for her country, why shouldn't she enjoy the same rewards as a man?” Lady Westbrook linked her arm through Mary's and started toward a door concealed in the corner of the salon. “Come along. I'm sure Mr. Picoult can cope without you.”

Amused by Lady Westbrook's forceful manner, Mary allowed herself to be led away and ushered into the small book-room adjoining the salon. To her surprise, it was full of people changing into some of the most exotic costumes she had ever seen. Her companion spoke to some of the women in their own language and then smiled at Mary.

“I thought you might enjoy watching the performers dress.” She touched her own vivid silk clothing. “At my age, I tend to wear the more modest version of the Indian sari. You, of course, can wear nothing under the wrapped silk but your skin.” Her smile was quite wicked. “After being forced to wear a corset, it is a very freeing sensation. And for a man to unwrap you ...” She sighed as if she had some very happy memories. “It is
quite
extraordinary.”

Mary smiled at the young woman who was holding out a long swathe of jade silk to her. “I would love to try. Hopefully someone can show me how to put it on.”

“Oh good.” Lady Westbrook clapped her hands. “Now take everything off, and Meera here will wrap you up like an exotic silk parcel.”

Mary stood still as Meera draped the silk low on her hips, and then around and around. The skirt length was just above the ankle, and felt cool against her skin. She held her breath as the girl deftly made a series of pleats and tucked them inside the waistband.

“Now for the top.”

The remaining part of the silk was brought around to the back and then tossed over her right shoulder leaving only one thin layer covering her bosom. Her nipples crinkled against the fabric and were easily visible through it.

“It is rather daring. Perhaps we should pin it at the hip?” Lady Westbrook suggested.

“Is that what the other women do?”

“No.”

“Then I won't do it either.”

Lady Westbrook smiled. “You need to take your hair down and wear a veil over your face, at least at first.”

“Until when?”

“Until dear Jack realizes who you are and allows himself to enjoy the festivities to the fullest. There have already been three dances, and he hasn't taken part in any of them.”

Mary bit her lip. “I'm not actually supposed to be here at all.”

“I think he'll be pleased to see you.”

“Are you sure?”

Lady Westbrook took her hand and walked her over to another door. “Look.”

Jack sat on a pile of cushions watching as the dancers filed out into the room. He wore his usually charming smile, but she knew him well enough to recognize the tension in his shoulders and his complete lack of interest in the salacious sights in front of him. One of the women danced over to him and dropped to her knees to kiss his feet, her naked breasts brushing against him. Although he toasted the woman with his glass, he made no move to actually touch her.

Mary found such a sight equally reassuring and also quite foreign. Had she done this to him? Made him as weary of the games as she was?

“Meera will teach you the basic movements of this particular love song, which is about the joys of fellatio. I'm sure you'll pick it up quite quickly; you are naturally graceful.”

Mary squeezed the older woman's hand. “Thank you.”

“You and Jack deserve all the happiness that you can find in this world. I'm glad to help in any way that I can.” She reached up and kissed Mary's cheek. “Now go and cheer him up.”

A loud crash on the drums made the rest of the dancers hurry into the main salon. Mary followed Meera and stood behind her at the back of the dance troupe. There were seven women, four men, and her. A group of musicians using instruments she had never seen or heard before were grouped in the bay window. The women were dressed as she was in a rainbow of shimmering silk, and the men wore a similar wrapped silk skirt without the covering over their chests. All of the dancers had darker skin and hair than she did.

Other performers already mingled with the crowd. She spotted Simon talking to one of the men, his red head bent low to listen and his smile wide.

The stringed instrument started up, followed by a flute, and then someone sang a low chant over the melody. Meera beckoned to her, and Mary went down on her knees behind one of the men, mirroring her companion's movements. As the beat intensified the women edged closer and closer to the man, who was rolling his hips and thrusting his groin to the demanding rhythm of the drum. Mary followed Meera's lead and swayed back and forth herself, reaching out her hands to the man when he turned to face her and licking her lips as if she couldn't wait to have his cock in her mouth.

The beat intensified and Meera caught her hands so that they made a circle around the man. He half-turned so that their joined hands cupped his cock and balls and his tight buttocks. They both kissed his hips, licking the silk as his cock lengthened and grew beneath the tight silk of his skirt.

Another demanding beat of the drum and Meera turned the man toward her and licked lavishly at the man's cock, kneeling up to try and take the head in her mouth. She waved at Mary and pointed toward Jack, who was still watching the dancers. Each woman who wasn't currently engaged with one of the dancers was crawling toward a male member of the audience, their intent to replicate what was happening in the center of the stage obvious.

Mary started to crawl too, her gaze fixed on Jack through her short veil. Even before she reached him, he'd gone still, his eyes narrowed on the sway of her hips and her breasts, the gold of her hair. She knelt between his thighs and licked her way up the front of his satin pantaloons, mimicking Meera's movements until she tried to suck the head of his cock into her mouth.

“God.”

His hand slid under the flimsy silk covering her breasts to fondle and play with her nipples. She shifted even closer, and used her teeth to unbutton his placket and drag it away from the thick straining shaft. With a soft moan, she swallowed him down her throat, sucking him deep to the rhythm of the drum. Her hips undulated as he slipped his fingers between her thighs and stabbed them in and out of her already wet cunt.

The music changed, and Mary carefully pulled away from Jack's cock to see what Meera was going to do next. The male dancers now lay on their backs on the floor, their erect cocks freed from the silk, one hand wrapped around the base to keep them vertical. She pushed at Jack's chest and he went down without a complaint, his fingers slipping out of her. She placed one of his hands around his cock and took another quick look at what was happening in the dance.

The women half-crouched over the men, allowing just the tips of the men's cock to brush against their sex while they played with their own breasts and clit. Mary straddled Jack and followed suit, enjoying his groans as she heightened her own arousal.

Another change in the beat and Meera moved over her partner's face until his tongue emerged to lick her folds and press up inside her. Mary did the same and Jack obliged, his wicked tongue bringing her so close to orgasm that she shivered. She wanted to lower herself even more, make him suck, and lick, and bite her until he could only taste and see her, until he was drowning in her juices....

“Mary, I want ...”

His plea vibrated against her clit and she almost sobbed as she started to come. He suddenly sat up and grabbed her around the waist, bringing her firmly down over his cock, making her climax. When she remembered to look up again, it seemed the dance had become a melee of writhing bodies and moans of satisfaction. One of the women had a man beneath her, and her back arched to accept the cock of another man in her mouth.

Jack stood up, bringing her with him and headed for the nearest wall where he continued to fuck her hard and fast. She was so wet now that he could slide in and out more easily.

“May I?”

She turned her head to see Simon beside them, his gaze on Jack's pumping arse. His fingers were already dripping with oil.

“Be my guest,” Jack groaned with each thrust, “but do it quick, I want to come.”

“But you'll wait.” Simon pointed at the anteroom. “It's slightly quieter in there and there's more space.”

Mary didn't care as long as Jack kept fucking her. He lowered her into a pile of cushions and stayed deep inside her. Simon moved behind him, but leaned over to kiss her on the mouth and lightly lick her nipple. She moaned her appreciation and didn't care what anyone thought of her. She loved having two sets of male hands on her skin.

“Do you want him first, Mary?” Jack murmured against her mouth. “His cock in your mouth or your cunt? My cock in yours while he fucks me?”

“You don't mind?”

“Not if it's what you want.” He held her gaze, his shaft a thick, throbbing presence deep inside her. “I love watching you suck and fuck him almost as much as I love you doing those things to me.” He kissed her. “If you can allow me to be myself, surely I can do the same for you. There should be no shame between us, no sexual secrets that we can't indulge in together, don't you agree?”

She could only nod and stare deep into his beautiful eyes.

Simon's cock nudged her cheek. “Suck me, please? Make me nice and hard for Jack?”

She willingly obliged, aware of Jack watching every twirl and lick of her tongue against Simon's crown, of every twitch of his cock when she did something he found particularly arousing. The sense of other people around her faded away and she simply enjoyed her men.