“You can forgive me?” Alice’s blue eyes shimmered with remorse.
Alice was the brothel’s most sought-after light-skirt not just because of her sensual blonde looks. She was also a talented actress; she’d only shown her true colors when she’d abandoned the friend who’d come to her aid. While Xenia’s mama had derided her for being weak and stupid, Xenia was not a simpleton and learned from her mistakes.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
“I can move past what happened,” Xenia replied.
“You’re such a good sport, dear!” Alice hugged her, enveloping her in a cloying rose scent. “I swear on my mama’s grave that the next time I’m at the docks, I won’t give that bastard Patrick Harlow the time o’ day.”
Xenia’s stare was incredulous. “You intend to return to the docks? Alice, after what happened?—”
“Like I said, I’ll steer clear o’ Harlow.”
“He’s part of the Corrigans, you know. A notorious gang. You don’t want that trouble in your life?—”
“Ain’t you sweet to care?” Alice cooed, patting her on the cheek. “But I can take care o’ myself. Speaking o’ which, I got gentlemen to entertain and so do you. I shall see you later.”
The light-skirt sauntered off, leaving a trail of perfume.
As Ethan entered the masquerade, he wondered if his presence was a mistake.
In its prior incarnation, the Nunnery had offered a private entrance to see Sister Sirena, making it possible to avoid other guests. The promise of anonymous pleasure, with no physical contact, had led him to seek her out that first time. He’d gone in with little expectation and left with more than he’d bargained for.
Tonight, however, things felt…wrong.
There were too many people, for one thing. By the looks of the fashionable crowd, a goodly number of the attendees had come from London. Undoubtedly, this was due to the Abbess’s discreet advertisements in a prominent London newspaper about her “revived entertainments.” It was how he had learned about tonight’s event. Even though he was masked, the last thing he wanted was to run into an acquaintance. While in Town last week, he hadn’t ventured to his clubs or any of the places where he would have to endure polite conversation and pitying looks.
He’d needed time to himself…and time away from Jane.
Recalling how he’d smashed Jane’s spectacles, he felt his chest tighten. The sight of her mangled frames had brought him to his senses: in his damaged state, he had no right to get involved with her. Moreover, she’d just survived an assault,andshe was his employee…and there he was, pawing at her. It didn’t matter that they’d shared the hottest, most carnal kiss he’d ever experienced. He had acted no better than the bastard he’d dispatched in the alleyway.
He realized that Jane was the main reason his presence here felt wrong. Yet he was hardly betraying her: at best, their relationship was professional, and at worst…God, he hoped she didn’t hate him, though he’d earned her enmity. In fact, he’d come tonight to discharge his lust—so that he wouldn’t give in to his filthy impulses toward his little housekeeper. Talking with Sirena would distract him, give him something else to fantasize about. Something other than kissing Jane again, bending her over his desk, and plowing her until she screamed his name.
He consulted his pocket watch. As he had time before his appointment with Sirena, he might as well circulate. He followed the crowd toward the public rooms. He didn’t know how the Abbess had managed to secure the country house for her event, but she’d transformed it into a Bacchanalia, a celebration of the god of wine and ecstasy. Vines of plump grapes were draped along the corridor, and the air was heavy with incense.
In the drawing room, festivities were in progress. A dozen light-skirts were dancing to the clapping and whistling of the masked guests. Ethan guessed they were supposed to be Maenads, their bodies draped in filmy veils. They whirled through the room, teasing the audience by shedding their coverings piece by piece. Once naked, they proudly displayed their wares, pushing up their breasts and bending over to show their pink folds glistening with oil. They whipped the crowd into a frenzy, men shouting out bids for the pleasure of their company.
A pair of naked blonde doxies sauntered up to Ethan and flanked him. The one on his left was tall and slender, the other short and voluptuous.
“Looking for company, sir?” The taller one spoke through rouged lips. “I’m Alice, and this is Annie. We’re sisters.”
He didn’t think they were sisters any more than they were true blondes. As neither feature held any particular appeal for him, he politely declined.
“Are you certain, luvie?” Annie pressed her generous breasts against his arm. “Double the pleasure, double the fun.”
The women leaned in, their mouths meeting in front of his. Although his brows elevated at the acrobatic agility of their tongues, that was the only part of him to rise.
He extricated himself. “I have a prior engagement.”
“’Ere to see Sirena, are you? She ’as a talented tongue, that’s for certain. But so do I.” Annie winked. “Take me into the room wif you, and when she gets to the climax o’ the story, I’ll get you to a real one, eh?”
“Or take me,” Alice cooed. “I’m at my best on my knees.”
While he didn’t doubt the light-skirts’ claims, he didn’t want to share his time with Sirena. The intimacy he’d felt with her, even though it wasn’t real, was the reason he’d returned.
“Good evening, ladies.”
He bowed and walked away, leaving behind the pouting pair. As he made his way deeper into the masquerade, the lighting dimmed, along with the crowd’s inhibitions. In the music room, a prostitute was playing the piano—badly, in part because she was also bouncing on a guest’s lap. She pounded on his prick and on the keys, and it was clear which was her true skill. Ethan cringed as she massacred blameless arpeggios. Her audience was less discerning. Sprawled in chairs, masked men were watching her, their fingers clenching in the hair of the kneeling whores whose heads bobbed in rhythm to the clamor that approximated music.
