The Black Rose awaited, along with the room he considered a second home. Thick beams, strong enough to hold a person’s weight. Lengths of rope hanging on the walls. And the accommodating proprietress, Madame Sable, who was always happy to find him an eager partner.
Climbing into his carriage, he directed the driver to Edward Street. His heart wasn’t in it, but the sooner he enjoyed another woman, the sooner he could rid himself of thoughts of his friend’s sister-in-law. Laying his head on the seat back, he watched London roll by through the open window.
The carriage stopped in a tidy street where well-painted signs hung over businesses’ doors and cheerful planter boxes lined the windows. If the residents knew of the Venus club nestled within their street, they ignored it.
Julius climbed the steps with as much eagerness as if going to see his tailor for a five-hour fitting. He handed his greatcoat and hat to the footman and entered the sitting room. Decorated in rich reds and golds, the room dazzled beneath the crystal chandelier. Julius blinked and looked for the owner. Madame Sable usually held court in this room, accepting praise and presents from the grateful members.
Tonight, she was nowhere to be seen. Of course. Julius slapped his palm against his thigh. That would be his luck.
One of the club’s girls, and a regular partner for Julius, stepped close and slid her hand up his arm. “Bonsoir, mon chou. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that handsome face.”
He forced a smile. “Lucy. I hope you’ve been well?”
She shrugged, her gown slipping off her shoulder. “I’ve been lonely, with no one to amuse me.”
A pretty request if he’d ever heard one. “Care to join me in the Amethyst room?”
Lucy bounced on her toes. “I thought you’d never ask.” She linked her arm through his and drew him through the sitting room and down the back hall.
His usual room was empty. It was larger than most of the other chambers and had high ceilings, the only things that made it tolerable when the door closed behind him. That, and the ropes lining the walls, available for his use.
Lucy slipped out of her gown, wearing nothing underneath. She was an attractive woman, plump in all the right places, with a tapered waist and long legs.
Julius felt nothing.
“Which rope would you prefer?” he asked.
She pointed to a thick braid with a rougher fiber.
Julius took it off the wall and uncoiled its length. He didn’t usually like the jute. It caused more pain than the hemp or cotton ones. And was nothing like the silk ropes he kept with him at home. But Lucy had tried them all and she liked the bite of pain. He nodded towards the center of the room, ignoring the big bed in the corner. A bed was too soft to match his mood.
Lucy stood under a ceiling beam and positioned her arms behind her in a pose they’d used many times. With more speed than artistry, Julius wove the rope around her wrists and arms. He waited for the familiar prickle. The one that dug under his skin and sent blood pounding to his cock whenever he saw rope cross a woman’s body.
And remained waiting.
He tossed the end of the rope over the beam. It swung back and forth, as limp as his member. It wasn’t working. He didn’t want Lucy; he wanted Amanda. And damn if he could trick his body with a couple of restraints.
Yanking the tail end of the rope back over the beam, he began untying the woman. “My apologies. I have to go.”
“But we were just beginning.” Lucy shook out her hands.
Julius coiled the rope and hung it on the wall. “I know. Another night.”
Leaving her open-mouthed, Julius fled through the club. It used to be a haven. The one building he looked forward to entering. Tonight, it felt more like a tomb.
He told his driver to take him to Montague’s, and the carriage bumped across London. They rattled to a halt, and Julius jumped down before the footman could open the door. He handed his coat and gloves to a waiting Carter and trudged up the steps to the second floor. Pausing outside Amanda’s door, he pressed his hands on the frame and rested his forehead against the wood.
He wanted inside. Inside her room. Inside her head. Inside her body. But they wouldn’t be compatible. Amanda needed a milksop for a lover, someone who’d hold her hand, let her call the shots. Let her be in control. The need to control the environment for a former prisoner could be overwhelming.
His gut churned at the thought of the pale fop who would be fortunate enough to bed her. Nails digging into the wood frame, Julius took a deep breath. Another. When she did take a lover, Julius would most likely never know.
He pushed away from the door in disgust. Fuck controlling his environment, he needed to control himself. And that started with leaving Miss Wilcox to sleep in peace.
His boot scuffed the hallway floor. Loosening his cravat with one hand, he pushed into his room. He stirred the fire with an iron then went to his window and slid it open. Only when he was leaning halfway out did his mind catch up with his vision.
He whipped his head around. All the curtains on his four-poster bed were drawn. He never slept with the curtains down, never untied them from their posts. The servants knew this. Had Carter already hired a new chamber maid who’d closed them after changing the sheets?
On silent feet, he crept to the bed. Grasping the velvet drape, he flung it back, allowing the moonlight to stream over the counterpane.
