“Hardly ominous,” he said. “The ladies and gentlemen who gather at this assemblage are a part of a secret, highly exclusive club. They pay a more-than-generous sum so that they may be assured of privacy.”
His words hardly allayed the creeping concern that something rather out of the ordinary was about to take place at Whitby’s house party. “Why should they require privacy?”
“Because the happenings at a Wicked Dukes Society house party can be a bit…debauched.”
The deep rumble of his voice sent a frisson through her. “Wicked Dukes Society?”
She was unfamiliar with such a club.
“Yes.” They reached the dining room where breakfast had been laid out in the same fashion as dinner the previous evening,à la Francaise, no hint of servants about.
“I’m beginning to think all the domestics here are wraiths,” she quipped as they stopped before her chair.
“Not wraiths, I assure you.” He offered her a dashing smile as he pulled the chair out for her. “Merely well trained and amply paid to do whatever is asked of them.”
She seated herself as he courteously pushed the chair in at her back. She settled her napkin in her lap and turned back to him. “What is the Wicked Dukes Society?”
“It is a club that was begun several years ago as a drunken jest,” he answered, skirting the table to sit opposite her. “Brandon, Camden, Riverdale, Richford, Kingham, and I all came up together at Eton. We’ve been like brothers ever since. One night, we were engaging in a bout of Bacchanalian revelries,and the notion came upon us that we might gather like-minded individuals in the name of a singular pursuit.”
“And what pursuit is that?”
His gaze seared hers. “Pleasure, of course.”
Something naughty unfurled in her belly. Was it the word? The way he said it? His voice, his eyes, his nearness? She ought to be appalled. Shewasappalled.
“Pleasure?” she repeated.
He nodded. “Indeed. Being venal souls, we also decided that membership in our society should come with a substantial fee. The members pay a small fortune, their secrets are secured, and they are free to do whatever it is they wish, within reason of course.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you have lured me to some…some manner of orgy?” she demanded.
His grin deepened, making crinkles edge his sparkling eyes. Oh, he was almost too beautiful when he smiled like that. Her breath caught in spite of herself.
“Miranda dear,” he drawled, “you quite astound me. Speaking of orgies, and we have yet to break our fast. Do you mind if I take my eggs and a bit of coffee before we reach such a prodigious part of the morning’s conversation?”
The urge to box his ears rose within her.
“I wasn’t speaking of orgies,” she snapped. “You were.”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t. I was speaking of house parties. It was you who mentioned orgies. I must confess, I’m rather shocked a lady such as yourself is even aware of that word, let alone its definition.” He paused in the act of removing a silver dome from one of the dishes awaiting them on the table. “Youdoknow what an orgy is, don’t you, kitten?”
Heat rose to her cheeks. “Of course I know what an orgy is.”
“Oh, good. For a moment there, I feared you were confusing it with orgeat.” He removed three poached eggs and laid themupon his plate. “A similar sound with two greatly different meanings, of course.”
Her face was flaming; she was sure of it. “And do not call me kitten,” she added as a frosty afterthought.
He was toying with her, and she knew it.
“But I do like to think of the way you were nestled so trustingly against me last evening.”
She ground her molars, not even certain how to respond, if at all.
“Perhaps you would prefer cat? Is it the diminutive size which causes your objection or the general naïveté of a kitten as opposed to a cat fully grown?”
Miranda glared at him.
He arched an eyebrow, feigning a look of innocence. “Would you care for some poached eggs?”
