That same heaviness that filled the air in the hall earlier revisited them. She was furiously aware of him, his proximity, the way his gaze had flicked down her body for just a moment.
“Yes,” she answered simply.
“Then come with me, and I’ll show you.”
CHAPTER 4
He was an absolute lunatic, Aubrey thought as he ushered Rhiannon into the observation room. And if Whit ever found out what was about to happen, his friend would want to bloody well kill him.
As it happened, Aubrey wouldn’t blame Whit. It would serve him right. Only a madman fit for the asylum would dream of bringing his friend’s innocent sister to an observation room to watch another couple fuck.
“This is certainly an oddly narrow room,” Rhiannon observed cheerfully as she looked around. “Whatever is its purpose?”
The chamber had been created by the erection of a wall that had cut off a portion of the original bedroom. Viewing holes, cleverly hidden beneath gilt covers, were strategically placed before comfortable chairs. In this way, lovers who enjoyed being watched could indulge their desires before an audience if they chose to do so. Aubrey knew the erotic whims of each guest. It hadn’t taken long to find a couple willing to be watched during their amorous play.
Arranging for Rhiannon’s debauchery had taken less than half an hour. The poor lamb didn’t know what was about to unfold before her virginal eyes.
“You shall soon find out, minx,” he told her, feeling grim.
He had good intentions, he reminded himself sternly. He wanted to shock her. To show her that she was a naïve babe compared to the jaded souls who came to Wingfield Hall in search of pleasure, regardless of how depraved.
He fully intended to send her running back to London once and for all and of her own volition. The stubborn chit had made it more than apparent that no amount of coercion on his part would make her go.
Yes, that was why he’d brought her here. To horrify her. To disgust her. To pull back the velvet curtain and show her what truly happened at these Wicked Dukes Society fêtes. It was no place for a wayward hoyden who had been cosseted and kept ignorant to the lascivious vices of the world around her. He didn’t give a damn how many books she’d read. None of them could possibly compare to what happened within these walls.
A noble cause from the blackhearted, soulless Duke of Richford. He might have laughed were he not preoccupied with making certain she took the seat that would give her the best vantage point after the festivities began.
“This one,” he ordered her, pointing at the chair before the viewing portal that was directly in front of the bed.
“I’m to sit?” she asked, looking around. “Why?”
“You’ll see. Just do as I tell you.”
She didn’t like that. Her back stiffened and her shoulders drew back, and damn her, she was glorious when she was angry and spitting fire at him. He had never wanted to bed a woman more than he wanted this one. But he hadn’t come here for that. And he could bloody well have his choice of women later when she’d run back to her mama where she belonged.
“You cannot order me about, Richford,” she snapped. “What if I don’t want to sit?”
“Then stand there,” he bit out, willing his thickening cock to wilt like a cut flower too long in the sun.
Her scent wrapped around him, and her lips were beyond deliciously tempting beneath the silk of her half mask. When she pouted like that, he wanted to kiss her breathless.
She sat.
Of course she did.
He seated himself at her side and reached for the gilt covering on his viewing hole, sliding it to the left to determine if the couple within was ready. He hoped to hell they were, because he wasn’t certain how much more torture he could withstand. Being so near to Rhiannon was enough to bring a saint to his knees, and Christ knew Aubrey was far from being a saint.
Within, Lord and Lady Elmont were already kissing. One of few married couples who attended club parties together, they were also quite adventurous in their bed sport. They often preferred a third to join them, usually another woman, but he hadn’t wanted to give Rhiannonquitethat much of an education. He had requested they keep their games to the two of them for the lewd bit of theater he had arranged.
“What are you looking at?” Rhiannon demanded, curious.
“Hush, brat,” he told her quietly. “You wanted an education in pleasure, an adventure, did you not? This is it, but you must be patient and no bellowing.”
Her brows drew together in a frown. “I don’t bellow.”
“These are observation windows,” he said, nodding to the gilt coverings. “There is a glass pane within to keep sound from carrying, but you must be quiet or run the risk of ruining it.”
“Ruining what?”
