“This punishment shouldn’t be too harsh.” John stepped closer and raised the candle so the light flickered across her bare arse. “I remember how much you used to enjoy playing with Sutton after all.” A blatant lie. She was the one girl who had outright refused to work with the Baron of Sutton, John’s close friend and owner of The Black Rose. The baron enjoyed bringing fire play into his bed sport. His flame and wax were now reserved solely for his wife, but when he used to play at the club, Suzy would make sure she was occupied doing anything, or anyone, else.
John moved the candle closer, letting her feel the heat from the flame.
She screamed and flung herself forwards, unheeding of the noose. The rope slid easily over the beam and Suzy tumbled, right into Cyrus’s waiting arms. He staggered back and they both fell to the cushioned floor.
Suzy rubbed her flushed face against Cyrus’s chest, dislodging the blindfold. She glared up at him from her one exposed eye. “You! I should have known you were behind this.”
Cyrus chuckled and untied her wrists. He chaffed her arms. “And you shouldn’t have told me your dream about a rope around your neck if you didn’t want this to happen.” He nuzzled her throat.
John blew out the candle. Another successful mind game. Some sort of thrill should have passed through him.
Suzy smacked Cyrus’s shoulder, but there was no heat behind it. “You know I hate fire.”
“But you love being scared,” he replied.
“I adore that you know me so well.” She dug her fingers into the back of Cyrus’s head and pulled him to her.
John blew out his cheeks. Another nauseatingly happy couple. Why couldn’t people merely enjoy fucking anymore? Everyone had to havefeelingsnowadays. develop a tendre before tupping. It was all dreadfully dull.
He turned to leave, but Cyrus’s words stopped him at the door. “You’re going? I’m certain Suzy and I can think of an inventive way to thank you.”
John turned. Suzy was draped over Cyrus, her lithe body a delicious inducement. Her eyes glittered, the excitement from the game still evident in her smile.
He should accept the invitation. It didn’t look as though he’d be able to play with the woman much longer, and she had been one of his favorites. But Cyrus’s looks were becoming much too proprietary and Suzy gazed at the American as though he placed the stars in the sky just for her. No, those two would stop playing with others and belong only to each other soon enough.
Another pairing. John forced his upper lip to remain uncurled. “Thank you, no. It’s time I returned home.”
Cyrus squeezed Suzy’s hip. “All right. You celebrated your birthday last week, did you not? I guess old men need their sleep.”
“Oh!” Suzy nodded at John while tracing a pattern on Cyrus’s shirt. “Much joy. Was it your fortieth?”
“I have just attained five and thirty,” he said through gritted teeth. Yanking open the door, he stepped through, slamming it shut on Suzy’s, “I could have sworn someone said he was forty.”
John stomped down the hall to the main room. At this time of morning, it was nearly empty and he could see at a glance that Sutton wasn’t among the men. Although his friend managed the club with his wife, he was rarely in attendance. He was probably snuggled up tight to his bride, snoring away in domesticated boredom, slinking into decrepitude with every breath.
John accepted his greatcoat and hat from the footman and plucked up his walking stick. He smacked the head into his palm. The sting on his skin from the thirty-six rubies encrusted into the nob only served to increase his irritation.
“Your carriage is being brought around, my lord,” the footman said.
John nodded and strode outside. The brisk early morning air hit him like a slap to the face. The sky was a sooty grey, the color that foretold when sunrise was only minutes away. The time when all good men of sense were winding up for their next round of debauchery.
A muted roar of laughter at the corner of the cross street caught his attention. He walked to the end of the short drive and looked down the street. A group of five young bucks swayed together as they sang a lusty song.
John rubbed his breastbone. Not too long ago that had been him and his friends. Perhaps they had never sung, badly or otherwise, but the five of them had ripped through London with the samejoie de vivre. They hadn’t turned for home and bed at the first signs of morning light.
John’s shoulders rounded. He’d just come from a club that catered to his every desire. Been offered an invitation to indulge in wicked pleasures. He should have felt as those boys did. Exuberant. Invincible. As though he straddled the world.
Instead, exhaustion weighted him down. Ever since the prime minister had told him his services were no longer desired, an insufferable malaise had slowed his step. No matter how many hell houses or clubs he patronized, he couldn’t escape the boredom of an early retirement. And the hell of it was, he couldn’t even blame Liverpool. The prime minister had no choice but to let him go. His identity as a spy was fast becoming the worst-kept secret in London, at least among the roughs and criminals he targeted.
John had, in point of fact, become useless.
Another shout went up, and John glared at the men. Insufferable pups. They had the world by the ballocks and didn’t even know it.
The club’s footman hurried to his side. “Your carriage is here, my lord.”
“Thank you.” John looked to his coach. Wilberforce sat on the driver’s bench, even though John had told him not to wait up. He gave his stick a twirl. Perhaps Wil would be up for a drink at Simon’s before retiring for the night.
With one last glance down the street, John turned for his carriage. And paused. He narrowed his eyes, tracking the small shape that brushed past the group of bucks. The boy’s gait was exceedingly casual as he bumped into one of the men. Too casual. And unfortunately for him, the man he targeted wasn’t nearly as inebriated as his friends.
