“What was Lady Foxton doing with Viscount Bollinger?” Livy asked.
“From what I could gather, it was a business transaction cloaked as a social one. Bollinger promised Foxton ‘a devilish good time’ this evening. She, in return, slipped him a purse filled with banknotes.”
Livy chewed on her lip. “She is one of the group’s clients?”
“I believe so. They will be meeting tonight at the Hellfire Club, an exclusive establishment catering to debauchery. Foxton was particularly keen when Bollinger mentioned that the newest member of the Horsemen would be in attendance.”
Invisible hands yanked on Livy’s corset strings. Struggling to breathe, she said, “Hadleigh is going to be there?”
Charlie inclined her head.
“Then I have to be there as well,” Livy burst out.
“I thought you might feel that way.” Crossing to Livy, Charlie leaned against the desk’s edge, her daffodil-colored skirts spilling over the panel of flora and fauna. “The Horsemen will be distributing the Devil’s Bliss to their clientele at the Hellfire Club, which could yield critical information about their operation. But I must be frank: because of your personal stake in the situation, I have reservations about taking you.”
“You can trust me,” Livy said at once. “I haven’t let you down yet.”
“No, you have not. You have been a loyal Angel.” Charlie’s look was measuring. “All right, then. No matter what you see tonight—and I warn you, the club is known for its depravity—you must stay disguised. You cannot give yourself away, especially to Hadleigh. It will be a test of your strength and commitment to the case.”
“I will not fail,” Livy said.
Charlie gave an approving nod. “I’ve been impressed by your discretion with Hadleigh.”
“Iwantto tell him the truth,” Livy admitted. “Vow of secrecy aside, however, I am afraid that he will not understand.”
“You have made the right choice, my dear. He would undoubtedly try to put an end to your work.” Her mentor’s tone was blunt. “In fact, by carrying on with our society’s mission, you are helping him, even though he does not know it.”
Livy hadn’t thought of it in that way before. Ironically, in keeping the truth from Ben, shewasbetter able to aid and protect him. The sooner the Angels could help wrap up the case with Fong, the sooner Ben could stop playing this dangerous game. Then he and she could be together at last.
She cocked her head. “What time do we leave tonight?”
Livy was no wilting violet, yet as she wandered through the Hellfire Club, the debauchery on display gave her a buffle-headed feeling. A few minutes ago, she and Charlie had arrived at the club—inconspicuously housed in a Mayfair mansion at the end of a tree-lined cul-de-sac—and the guards at the door had asked for a secret password. After Charlie provided it, she and Livy were led through a dark passageway into the raucous Bacchanal.
Like many of the other guests, Livy and Charlie were masked and heavily disguised. Livy’s hair was hidden beneath a wig of cascading red curls, and she wore a low-cut black lace gown that had seemed scandalous when she was getting ready, but now appeared prudish compared to those around her. A blonde clad in nothing but swirls of paint sauntered past, her dimpled buttocks jiggling.
“Stay close to me,” Charlie murmured.
Livy nodded, scurrying after her mentor when a shirtless man in tight black leather breeches winked at her and ran his tongue slowly over his lips.
The Hellfire Club had several floors, and Livy and Charlie made their way through each, looking for Ben and his group. Each floor showcased a different theme of depravity. Livy’s cheeks burned behind her mask as she passed glass cubicles where guests were tupping in front of a cheering audience. The astonishing variations made her blink. In one coupling, a man sat upon a chair with a brunette astride him, her back to his chest. His large hands fondled her breasts as she impaled herself on his erect member, moaning loudly.
Swallowing, Livy moved on, her gaze locking upon a darkly erotictableau vivant. Upon a stage, men and women dressed as satyrs and nymphs held as still as a painting while in the midst of sexual acts, their expressions frozen in unmistakable ecstasy. That look of bliss was shared by a man on a nearby dais who, shockingly, was naked and held in a pillory. A woman in a red leather corset and black stockings applied a birch to his backside as he yowled in delight.
Circling through the stories of the building, Livy grew numb to shock. The top floor, however, proved that her nerves could still be jolted. She followed Charlie into a chamber decorated like a feverishly imagined seraglio. Plaster arches framed murals of a Turkish courtyard on a starry night. The ceiling was festooned with swathes of gauzy jewel-colored fabric, the bright, sensual colors echoed on the carpets below. And upon those rugs…
Men and women were engaged in a lascivious free-for-all. Bodies were connected to one another—sometimes tomorethan one person—in an undulating chain. Guttural sounds filled the air, and the smells of sex, perfume, and a strange, sweet smoke were everywhere. Livy’s bosom surged on rapid breaths, her cheeks throbbing against her mask. She didn’t know what to make of her reaction: a mix of shock, repulsion…and titillation?
Yearning for Ben pierced her. She missed him so, and witnessing all this carnality was oddly adding to her physical ache. Her brain conjured up an image of Ben taking her the way a man was taking a brunette on a nearby rug: with his hands holding her hair like reins, his hips pounding her bottom in disciplined thrusts…
“I see them.” Charlie’s low tones focused Livy on the mission. “By the palms.”
Livy directed her gaze at the row of potted plants that separated the seraglio from the seating area just beyond. Through the barrier of fronds, she spotted their targets, her heart banging into her ribs at the sight of Ben. In shirtsleeves and a black mask, he sat on a low divan…withCherise Foxton cozied up next to him.Lady Foxton wore a skimpy crimson robe edged with black lace and, it was obvious, nothing beneath. Her mask did not hide her expression, like that of a cat with a dish of cream.
Livy’s hands curled when the bloody woman ran a finger along Ben’s jaw.
Get your dashed claws off him,Livy’s inner voice yelled.He’s mine.
Ben didn’t reciprocate Lady Foxton’s flirtation, but he did not stop the odious woman’s advances. Instead, he seemed intent upon talking to her while she flirted and laughed in an intoxicated manner. Suddenly, she surged to her feet, teetering; she might have fallen had Ben not risen and put steadying hands on her waist.
