“Etta,” Annabelle repeated.
It seemed almost wrong to hear someone other than Theo call her that name. No one else had for so long that it rang in her ears. She nodded nonetheless. “Yes.”
“Very good.” Annabelle scribbled a few things in the entry for her membership and then closed the ledger. She came around the desk and leaned on the corner. In the breath before she spoke again, Bernadette took her in. There was something so certain about this woman. So sure in herself and her role. Bernadette wished she could be so strong.
“A few rules to review before we are finished,” Annabelle said. “Firstly, this club is meant for sexual pleasure and anything goes…but only between consenting partners. You are allowed to say no to anything at any time. You are not allowed to pursue if the other partner says no.”
Bernadette thought of the letter to Tunbridge and blushed. “I understand.”
“You may not ever speak about what you see here to anyone outside of these walls. People come here for privacy, so even if you identify someone you know, this must never be spoken of.”
“I would not want someone to talk about my being here, so I wouldn’t do the same to anyone else.”
Annabelle nodded. “Very good. Now, to protect your own identity, we recommend wearing a mask. It isn’t required and you may see some without one, but it’s the best way to remain anonymous in any…encounter.”
“Oh, that’s why you call it the Donville Masquerade!” Bernadette said with a laugh, though her stomach fluttered at the idea of an anonymous encounter. It was so wicked.
And it would also solve the problem of being unwanted. No one would know it was her. So she could be anyone she desired to be. It would be safe. Or as safe as one could expect.
Annabelle pushed off from the edge of the desk with a smile. “You’ll be reminded of these things when you arrive. The club opens at nine, but I’d recommend coming after ten so that you get the full experience. And I do not wear a mask while I circulate, so if you ever need anything, please find me or ask for me.”
“I will,” Bernadette said, practically bouncing as she was led down the stairs and back out into the main hell. There, Annabelle extended a hand.
“Habor will call for your carriage if it’s not outside the door,” she explained. “I hope to see you soon.”
“Thank you,” Bernadette said as the two women shook hands. “For your help and your kindness.”
“Of course.”
Annabelle smiled at her once more, and then the two women turned from each other and went their separate ways. But at the exit into the vestibule, she turned back and saw Annabelle walk up to a very tall, broadly built man. He caught her hand and drew her up short and hard against his chest. Annabelle laughed and then lifted up on her tiptoes so the two could kiss passionately before the club door closed and she could no longer see them.
Bernadette felt the heat in her cheeks as she turned away and hustled forward to wait for her carriage. The kiss reminded her too much of Theo, but he had left. He had apologized for kissing her. So she had to focus on the future, not the past.
And her future, at present, was a return to this place later that night.
CHAPTER4
Theo couldn’t have named exactly how many times he’d thought about getting on his horse and riding back to Bernadette’s in the time since he’d left her. But it was more than ten. He kept trying to convince himself he would just talk to her about the kiss that never should have happened. That he would just settle the situation between them and help them return to friends.
But he never went, and it was because he knew what would actually happen was that he would kiss her all over again and this time he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He would ruin everything and eventually she would despise him for it.
“Mr. Desmond, Your Grace,” Kimball said from his study door, and Theo turned from the window where he had been doing his brooding and forced a welcoming smile as his friend entered the room.
He’d known Roarke since their time at Eton, and then the acquaintance had been renewed a few months before. Theo liked the man, and he respected him. Roarke had been taken under the wing of noted industrialist Grayson Danford and had been doing very well for himself in the months since.
“And there you are. I hope you’re here to tell me that my investment in all this steam nonsense is already paying off,” Theo said as he crossed the room, hand outstretched.
“It is, indeed," Roarke said. He accepted the whisky that Theo poured him before the two of them sat down and had a good conversation about the innovations that might one day make steam engines the norm. Half of the science Theo didn’t understand, but one couldn’t help but be swept up in Roarke’s enthusiasm.
At last he settled back in his chair and looked Theo up and down. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.
Theo blinked. One of the things he liked most about this man was that he couldn’t yet see through him like Callum could. And somehow here he was, doing just that.
“Help?” he repeated with a humorless laugh. “What would I need help with?”
“I don’t know,” Roarke admitted. “There’s just something about your expression.”
“Ah yes,” Theo said, keeping his tone light. “What you are seeing is the peaceful countenance of a man who is not leg shackled. You may not recognize it since you and Callum have both succumbed to societal expectation.”
