Page 7 of A Lady, Her Lord, & Their Duke

“How are you feeling, Charlie?”

Edmund forced a smile at Madam Venus’s soft enquiry. Reeling was a word. Floundering. Anxious. Vulnerable.

Opening one’s heart and baring one’s soul were simply not actions a Vane undertook. Ever. And yet earlier he’d permitted this kind yet brisk woman to subject him to the most painfully intensive interrogation of his life: ruthlessly removing his armor of title and power, probing old wounds and scars…and uncovering desires he didn’t even realize he possessed.

Now he was breaking the most strident Vane rule of unfailing propriety; standing in the middle of a spacious yet crowded ballroom wearing a mask, hair covering, and a goddamned green satin tunic that barely reached mid-thigh. Waiting for a couple that he prayed would be Neville and Arabella Carlisle, so he could watch them fuck.

It was enough to give anyone palpitations.

“Well enough,” he answered politely, glancing about the ballroom for the hundredth time, trying in vain to locate his potential evening companions.

Naturally he couldn’t request the Carlisles by name, but he’d tried to be specific. Loving married couple. A woman with bountiful curves. Experienced. A charming, well-spoken man. However, there were so many people here, and with the masks and tunics, it was almost impossible to tell who they were. No matter their rank in society outside these walls, everyone was equal and anonymous in their quest for pleasure.

What if another couple strolled up? He’d not thought this through at all.

He’d not thought any of this through, from accepting Carlisle’s card to loitering outside for a solid twenty minutes, to stumbling through that godawful underground maze. Once again, was he the creator of his own downfall?

Edmund gulped, firmly resisting the urge to flee. Clearly, only he felt like this. Everyone else in the ballroom seemed so damned happy. Some were sipping brandy or wine or selecting bite-sized treats from the lavish buffet table. Others were being introduced to a prospective lover or lovers and the chatter was deafening, although not as loud as the cheers and applause from one corner where a small crowd watched exhibitionists through a glass window.

While there were two others wearing green tunics, both had already been claimed. In truth, if Madam Venus wasn’t standing beside him, he might have leaped out the nearest window and sprinted all the way back to St. James’s Square. The unknown was bloody terrifying. Would they think him a fool? Disdain his lack of knowledge and experience? Wonder which affliction kept him living like a bloody monk instead of enjoying a string of mistresses?

Damnation. He couldn’t do it. This impulsive idea was the worst in the history of the world.

About to inform Madam Venus he’d changed his mind, he instead swallowed the words as the woman waved and beckoned two masked people in gold tunics toward her. One was a tall and lean man, almost as tall as himself, but moving with a panther-like grace and confidence. The woman on his arm was petite and so voluptuous that her tunic strained against her breasts and backside and belly and upper thighs, a battle of clothing and flesh that hopefully would see her body the victor, for it was surely a crime to constrain such lushness.

It was the Carlisles. God forgive him, he would recognize Lady Arabella Carlisle’s figure blindfolded and in the dark. When the former Miss Ferndale had entered the marriage mart, every titled bachelor in the realm pursued her, and he’d envied them the freedom to do so. As he was a married man, the beautiful heiress had not even glanced his way, but it had been rather fascinating watching a procession of cocky senior peers approach her, so sure of success, only to be soundly rejected. Then Arabella had caused a further storm by wedding Neville Carlisle, an older baron without ancient lineage, vast estates, or wealth, and Edmund had envied her as well, for even as a woman with so few legal rights, Arabella had been able to choose her spouse.

Madam Venus cleared her throat as the couple halted in front of them. “Good evening. Rather than me blathering on, why don’t you two introduce yourselves?”

Carlisle’s firm lips curved up in a warm smile as he bowed. His arms and legs were dusted with dark blond hair, his jaw revealed a hint of shadow, and even with a mask covering two-thirds of his face, those expressive chocolate-brown eyes missed nothing. “Good evening. I’m Gage, at your service, sir.”

Edmund bit his lip, his stomach fluttering at the smooth words with a hint of mischief. What service was he referring to? “G-Good evening,” he stuttered, before taking another breath for composure. “I’m…er…Charlie.”

“Charlie,” purred Arabella as she regally inclined her head rather than curtsying. All the while her vibrant blue eyes glittered in a bold, proprietary way that urged him to surrender and kneel. “What a fine figure of a man you are. So enticing. You may call me Madam Laurel.”

Edmund’s cheeks heated at the compliment and he was briefly grateful for the annoying mask. “Thank you.”

Her lips twitched. “Now, tell me, Charlie. How do you feel about plump ladies? My darling Gage willingly puts himself at risk of suffocation between my breasts or perhaps being crushed by my thighs when he worships my greedy pussy. Are you as brave as he?”

A strangled gasp tore from his throat at the blunt, explicit words. And yet now that Arabella had said them, he could actually see himself sucking her nipples as she firmly held his head in place. Or, oh Christ, being restrained, forced to lick her pussy clean under threat of punishment if he didn’t gather every drop of honey with his tongue…

Edmund shuddered, his fists clenching as he tried desperately to calm his raging arousal. What the hell was happening? He’d never considered submitting to a woman, and hadn’t been physically punished since receiving the cane at Eton. Yet somehow imagining the two together made blood rush straight to his cock.

Oh no. He was harder than stone. Tenting his damned tunic in front of everyone. And he couldn’t disguise it.

Mortified, Edmund stared at his feet. “I…er…”

“Fuck, I’m hard,” said Carlisle abruptly. “Madam Laurel, I am begging you to take us to the diamond chamber or I’m going to come like a geyser in the middle of this ballroom.”

Edmund’s head shot up to look straight into the other man’s twinkling eyes…then he glanced back down at Carlisle’s groin. It was true! The baron’s cock also jutted against his tunic! But even more shocking; Carlisle was completely unbothered. Perhaps…perhaps becoming aroused so swiftly wasn’t a humiliating failure?

Arabella turned to her husband. “You’re so naughty, trying to provoke me into spanking you. I suspect our new friend Charlie here might also be rather wicked.”

Madam Venus, who had been silently observing their interplay, chuckled. “I suspect you three are going to get along famously. I’ll leave you to become better acquainted. The diamond chamber is ready when you are.”

And with that, Sanctuary’s owner strolled away to another small group.

“So,” said Arabella airily. “I think we should retire to our room immediately, don’t you?”