Rules of Passion (25 page)

She forced a laugh. “I’m sorry. I was miles away.”

For the rest of the meal she managed to keep her thoughts in the room and not in wistful dreams of being with Max at the Lustful Lady later this evening.

Mr. Jardine, who had been looking ten years younger since Lady Greentree arrived, hurried to help her into the drawing room after dinner. His manner was particularly solicitous as he busied him
self making her comfortable in the best chair, and then brought the stool closer, so that she could prop up her injured foot.

Amy Greentree gave a little sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Jardine, you are the best of men.”

He smiled down at her, but there was a look on his face…Marietta felt her heart ache for him. At that moment she happened to turn, and noticed that Uncle William was standing in the doorway watching them, too. And unlike Marietta his heart wasn’t aching, no indeed, but from the tight and painful expression on his face his belly was.

Marietta gritted her teeth, feeling sure they were about to be treated to another of Uncle William’s dreadful tirades, but strangely he said nothing. Though when he finally left, his expression was still hard and unsmiling, and there was a look in his eyes when they rested upon Mr. Jardine that boded ill.

Marietta was tempted to warn her mother, but how could she broach the matter without giving away Mr. Jardine’s secret love for her? He would never forgive her if she put Amy on her guard with him. Besides, Amy was exhausted from her long journey and soon afterwards retired to bed, so for the moment the opportunity was lost. Francesca, too, had already gone up to bed, and Vivianna had retired to her own rooms.

A glance at the clock as Marietta hurried upstairs to her room showed that it was already a quarter to the hour, and she had barely any time to prepare. She decided to wear the midnight blue velvet and net dress she had worn to dinner, but she quickly brushed her hair and tied it loosely at her back, and tossed her emerald green cloak about her.

Ready at last, Marietta crept down the backstairs and slipped outside.

At first she couldn’t see the coach, and then she did—a dark bulky shape against the pale foliage of the garden. Marietta hurried over, wincing as the cobbles bruised the bottoms of her feet in their thin-soled slippers. The still night air was fresh and she filled her lungs and felt alive—more alive than she had been for a very long time.

Had Max changed her, or was it simply that she was taking the first steps along her chosen path at last? But Marietta didn’t want to mull over reasons for her happiness; she just wanted to enjoy the moment.

She thought it was Daniel huddled up in the driver’s seat, but this man did not turn and greet her and she hesitated, her hand upon the door.

“Lustful Lady?” a gruff voice asked.

“Yes.” It was all right then. This was Max’s coach—she noted the insignia on the side—only he had not sent Daniel to drive it. Under the circumstances she could understand that.

With a smile, Marietta climbed up inside.

They drove for a little while. Despite being late the streets of London were still busy with other vehicles and people on foot. It was a place that never seemed to sleep, and she huddled into her corner as the gas lamps shone out, keeping the hood of her cloak about her face in case anyone should peer inside and see her.

This was all part of the game, she supposed. A secret rendezvous. A lover with whom she must never be seen in daylight, or recognized with at night. The tingle in her blood was growing stronger, and she
peered anxiously from the window, hoping they were nearly there.

Just as the coach drew up.

The driveway to the Lustful Lady was illuminated by flaring torches, while the building itself was an old manor house, set among the trees. A servant in yellow livery hurried to open the door for Marietta, and to direct the coach around to the back of the house. The villa seemed strangely quiet as the servant led Marietta to the front door and gestured that she should enter. His eyes weren’t curious—perhaps he saw too many ladies huddled in their cloaks come to meet lonely gentlemen.

“Where do I go?” she asked him anxiously. There was a single lamp inside the door and it hardly penetrated the darkness. Suddenly this did not seem like such an adventure.

“Straight on, ma’am,” he said, as if he’d said it a hundred times before. “Stop when you choose to. If the door’s open you can join in. If it ain’t then don’t disturb.”

Stop when you choose to? Join in or don’t disturb? She didn’t understand him, but Marietta had already taken a step forward and the door closed abruptly behind her. For a moment she panicked and was strongly tempted to bang upon it and ask to be released; she wanted nothing more than to go home again to her sister’s house and her family, and forget all this nonsense.

Only it wasn’t nonsense, was it? This was her life from now on, these were the sorts of places she would frequent, and she’d best get used to it. But the excitement had gone and in its place was doubt and fear and a need for Max to hold her hand.

Once her eyes became accustomed the way forward wasn’t as dark as she had thought. There was a hallway, paneled in gloomy wood, that looked as if it were part of an original medieval building, and there ahead of her shone another of the dull lamps. As she set off she became aware of voices, murmurs, and they were close by. Marietta noticed that there was a doorway a little ahead of her and to her side, and remembering what the boy had said she paused and glanced within.

There were people in there, and more than two.

For a moment she blinked, trying to make out what they were doing. Limbs wrapped about limbs, mouths open, like animals rutting…And then she understood exactly what they were doing. A face lifted, and a woman’s soft voice laughed and called, “Come join us, my lady, the more the merrier!” This was followed by a grunt and a deep groan.

Marietta picked up her skirts and ran down the hallway, her slippers beating time to the thudding of her heart. She had no intention of joining in, she did not want to. She felt so far out of her depth that she was drowning. And she was frightened. More rooms, some doors open and some not. More shadows, more voices, the scent of lust swam sickeningly around her. The Lustful Lady was like no other place she had ever been before, and the ache in Marietta’s chest, the fluttering in her stomach, told her that she did not want to be one of these creatures inside the rooms. Never, ever! Indeed, she could not think of anything worse.

There was a staircase at the end of the hallway. She was hesitating, her hand upon the balustrade, when she heard a sound behind her. The scrape of a boot
on the wooden floor, the rustle of clothing. With a gasp Marietta turned her head and saw, beyond the lamp’s feeble glow, the large shadow of a man. And he was coming towards her.

For some reason she thought of the man in the shabby brown coat she had seen twice before, the man with the rugged face and beady eyes. What if he had been following her about? What if he had followed her here?

With a whimper of panic she began to ascend the stairs, tripping on her skirts and catching at the wooden railing with shaking fingers. She didn’t want to look again but she couldn’t seem to help it, and when she turned it was to find her worst fears realized. Now the man was much closer, his face a sinister shadow beneath his hat, his cloak flying out behind him as he strode forward. Nearer he came as she tried to escape up the stairs. He reached the bottom of the staircase just as she reached the top, and then she was fleeing down yet another corridor, her blood pounding in her ears, her mind full of the terrible thought that he was going to drag her into one of the rooms.

The doors along this corridor were closed, but there were still sounds to be heard—cries and whispers—an endless spiral of degradation. The images she had seen were all about her, making her head spin, or perhaps that was because her stays were too tight and she could not breathe. Why had she put foolish vanity before good sense? What did it matter now? Marietta gave a little sob of regret.

And then he was upon her. He caught her about the waist, his big chest against her back, his breath hot in her ear, and with a muffled shriek she fought
him, pummeling and scratching at his hands, trying to pull away. It must be a trick! Max wasn’t coming at all. She was going to be murdered, but first she was going to be—

“Shhh, Marietta.” A whisper against her cheek. “Don’t be afraid, darling. It’s me.”

She nearly burst into tears. “Max?” she gasped.

“I couldn’t send Daniel with the coach, he’s never been able to keep a secret. I drove it myself and then I had to take it around to the stableyard before I could find you. I should have told you instead of trying to pretend I was somebody else. I didn’t have the money to pay anyone else and I didn’t want you to know. It was vanity and I’m sorry.”

“Oh Max! I thought you were…”

“I called out to you just now, but you didn’t hear and then you ran away.”

She looked into his familiar eyes, brown and warm and smiling ruefully at her from the shadows. She had never seen anything more welcome.

“Max, you gave me such a fright—” She clutched his arm with her gloved fingers and her hood slipped back, revealing the gold of her loosened hair. “What is this place?” her voice was shaking, she cast little anxious glances about her. “I don’t think I like it.”

“This is an introducing house. Men and women come here to rendezvous with others who like the same pleasures,” he explained, smoothing a tendril from her face.

“But they aren’t couples! Not all of them.”

She had amused him, though he was trying hard not to smile at her. Marietta squirmed in his arms, embarrassed by her own naiveté, but he would not let her go.

“Some of these people like to share, and some don’t—that’s why the doors are open or closed. I suppose it’s all a matter of taste. You must remember, Marietta, that places like this are home to many a jaded palate. After years of seeking out every pleasure available, no matter how perverse, I imagine many a gentleman—and lady—needs something different to titillate their senses. I have heard there is even a whipping room…”

Marietta felt a curl of nausea in her stomach. She felt no urge to become one of these jaded pleasure-seekers, and yet she had a terrible feeling that many of the women who came here had once been in exactly the same position as herself.

Max reclaimed her attention. “Don’t worry, Marietta, I’m not a man who likes to share. I’ll keep you safe.”

Being here with him did make her feel better, but she wouldn’t tell him so. She knew she must learn to be bold, although tonight Marietta didn’t feel bold. She felt young and frightened and ridiculously innocent.

“I’m not worried,” she said in what she hoped was a breezy and confident voice.

Max’s strong arm tightened about her waist, and he led her forward, ignoring the rooms they passed. At the far end of the corridor was a room that was unoccupied, and he turned into it.

Curiously, Marietta glanced about her as he closed the door. A branch of candles had been lit, and the flames wavered in the stir of air. She could see a divan along one wall, and chairs and a table set with a jug of wine and two metal goblets. Everything looked clean enough, and yet there was a secondhand seediness
about it she found repellent. How many other couples had stood here, just as they were, contemplating the pleasures of the flesh? What desperate and depraved scenes had these walls witnessed?

Max was standing, watching her, as she took everything in, and his face was somber. She gave him a tentative smile, suddenly so glad that he was here that she ached with it.

“Marietta,” Max murmured, and captured her fingers, bringing them up to his lips. She felt his mouth through her glove, and then his warm breath against her wrist as he kissed the only bare skin available to him.

“Your wound,” she said. She could see that the doctor’s stitches had been removed, leaving a reddened scar that would, she hoped, fade, although Max’s wild curls helped to hide it.

“All better,” he said, as her fingers lightly brushed his forehead. She stroked his cheek, and he closed his eyes, as if her touch made him as lightheaded as his did her. She stretched up and tenderly kissed the scar on his chin, wondering at herself as she did so.

His eyes flickered open, surprise in their depths.

“We’re supposed to be lovers who can only meet in secret,” she felt the need to excuse her actions. “I’m just playing my part.”

Down the hallway there were a series of noisy shouts and then a woman screamed like a banshee. It might have been bloody murder but Marietta knew it was simply an excess of pleasure. She turned large eyes on Max and bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. Max shook his head and grinned back at her.

There was an uncomfortable moment, as if neither
of them knew what to do or say next, and then Max said, “We are only allowed the room for an hour.”

“Oh.” The knowledge that their time was so short made her feel awkward, despite all they had done last night. Suddenly Marietta wished herself miles away.

Max wondered what she was thinking. Aphrodite had chosen the Lustful Lady with a purpose. She had wanted Marietta to see what some women were reduced to, were dragged down to, and Max had agreed with her choice because he wanted to observe Marietta’s reaction. Just as he had expected, when he had caught up with her Marietta had been both appalled and afraid. He hadn’t helped, he supposed, by chasing her like that but she hadn’t heard him calling and he’d been afraid she might blunder into one of the occupied rooms.

She must see now that if she continued along the course she was traveling, then she could well be reduced to visiting a place like this on a regular basis. Degradation was something that happened over time, and unless she was very lucky Marietta would get there, eventually. The Lustful Lady was the ultimate destination of many desperate and unhappy people.

But Max was determined that wouldn’t happen to Marietta; he meant to fight for her, whether she wanted him to or not.

“Darling Marietta,” he whispered, willing for her sake to put aside all his plans to shock her into submission. “We don’t have to stay here. We can go somewhere else. Or I can take you home.”