For the first time, Genevieve wondered if she’d made a mistake. She had imagined a Cyprian’s Ball, but she wondered if this went further than that. Past a bit of flirtation and straight to the bedchamber. “Er… perhaps. We—”
Genevieve didn’t get to say anything else as her arm was grabbed and she was pulled into the den of iniquity.
Once she was inside, the scents of opium and alcohol assailed her nostrils, making her eyes water. There was also so much smoke in the air that she wondered if there was a fire somewhere. She glanced at Arietta and noticed she had paled. Genevieve imagined that her thoughts mirrored hers but were infinitely more terrible.
She urgently tugged on her arm. “Vivy, I think we should go,” she whispered.
Instead of replying, the man who had opened the door and was acting as the current butler, released his companion and put an arm around both of their shoulders. “Come in an’ stay awhile.”
With his face so close to hers, Genevieve nearly gagged at the mixture of smells on his breath. “I think perhaps we made a mistake—”
“Nonshenshe.” He ushered them farther into the house, and Genevieve thought Arietta might actually faint. She gave her friend a brisk squeeze of her hand, eliciting a nod as Etta temporarily snapped out of her haze.
However, when they turned a corner and entered the parlor, even Genevieve wasn’t prepared for the sight of so many writhing, nude bodies draped over every single piece of furniture, against the wall, and even sprawled out on the floor. She’d heard of things called orgies, but she had never actually witnessed it firsthand.
“Oh. My…”
At first Genevieve wasn’t sure if she had uttered the syllables, or if it was Arietta, but when she turned and saw her friend’s ashen face, her eyes rolling back in her head, she knew things were about to take a drastic turn for the worst.
“Etta!” she gasped as she started to collapse. But Arietta was caught by a pair of strong arms. Genevieve glanced up at the rescuer and realized that he was far from being the hero of old. This man was dangerous incarnate, and the host of the party.
Cortland was furious. No, more than that. He was absolutely livid.
But since he couldn’t very well throttle the lady before him, considering who her relation was, he had to content himself with scaring her away. But first, he needed to get her away from the multitude of sexually aroused men with eager cocks all around them.
“I think you stumbled into the wrong party, Lady Genevieve.”
Her hazel eyes widened. “You know who I am?”
“Yes,” he clipped, hoping she caught the disapproval in his tone. “Why don’t we chat after we get your unconscious friend somewhere safe?” He picked Arietta up in his arms and carried her across the hall to the library where, earlier, he’d been dreaming of a licentious evening. Instead, he feared that his Erotic-o-rama would end up being a Scandal-o-rama.
He laid the woman in his arms down on the settee and walked back to the door.
“Where are you going?” Lady Genevieve asked.
Rather than answer, he headed toward the conservatory where he gathered a pawpaw fruit. He returned to the library where he cut open the tropical plant and held it beneath the unconscious woman’s nose. With a unique scent similar to fermented grapes, he had learned that it worked as an alternative to smelling salts. Her eyes popped open, and she put a hand to her forehead.
Lady Genevieve gasped and uttered, “That’s remarkable,” before she walked over to her friend’s side. “Etta? Are you well? Can you hear me?”
It was difficult for her to speak, so Cortland walked over to the sideboard and poured a sherry for her, which he brought back to his patient. “Drink this,” he instructed. She did so without complaint.
Lady Genevieve, on the other hand, wasn’t so compliant. “Must you be so rude?”
He turned to her with a dry glare. “I am merely trying to get her back on her feet so that you both may leave.”
She stiffened. “What if we don’t want to go?”
He snorted. “Are you honestly prepared to engage in the activities that you witnessed in there?” he asked.
“If it’s good enough for them, then surely it’s good enough for me.”
Cortland frowned. For some reason, the idea that she would take a gentleman up on his offer of a torrid affair didn’t settle well with him. But he dared not examine why that might be. “Not tonight, it isn’t. You’re going home, and hopefully, no one is sober enough to remember your foolishness, so that your reputation might be salvaged on the morrow.”
“What if I’m tired of doing what is always expected of me?”
He glared at her, but she didn’t seem fazed.
“I want to experience life, not watch as it passes me by. Is it so wrong to dream of something… more?”
