Page 19 of 1797 Club 2nd Epilogue Collection (The 1797 Club #11)
T he carriage pulled up in front of the nondescript building and Isabel lifted her mask to cover her face, tying the silk ribbons before the footman opened the door and extended a hand to assist her down.
She didn’t meet the servant’s eyes, she couldn’t bear to do so, and instead looked up at the familiar building.
It still looked the same even if her own life had changed markedly in the years since she’d last been here.
She pushed those thoughts away as the doors to the club opened. Tonight she was not herself.
A gentleman stood at a raised table just beyond the doors in the vestibule and he glanced up as she entered. “Good evening, madam. Do you have a name for membership?”
It had been promised that the membership would be taken care of, so she gave the false name that should have been labeled on the account. “Miss Swan.”
He scanned the records with swift efficiency and then made a sharp hashmark on the ledger sheet. “Good evening, Miss Swan. Are you familiar with the rules of the Donville Masquerade?”
“I am,” she said. “Though it’s been a very long time since I last attended. ”
“Then I’ll review them,” he said. “Although this is a place of play and pleasure, it is done so only with consent. No one may bother you and you may bother no one who refuses your advances. The mask is for the protection of your identity, but many do not choose to wear them within and so whatever you see inside is to be kept strictly confidential. If you have any trouble, you may signal and one of our attendants will assist you.”
He came around to the intricately carved double doors that led into the main area of the club as he finished his recitation and opened them for her.
“Welcome to the Donville Masquerade. Enjoy yourself.”
“Thank you,” she said, her breath short as she moved past him and into the room.
It was late enough in the night that the room was already busy, crowded with masked ladies and gentlemen who were deep into all the pleasures the place had to offer. She took her time looking around, taking in the scene.
To her left were some gaming tables and players gathered there, just like in many another club all over London.
Donville Masquerade was different in that half of the players were only half-dressed and when the next round of cards was finished, one of the ladies who had lost laughed before she bent her head and ducked under the table to pay her lost “wager” with her mouth.
Isabel blushed at the lewd display and looked across the room directly in front of her.
Dancers crowded the floor, holding far too closely to one another.
One lady was wedged between two masked gentleman and they were all grinding together as she switched between kissing one and then the other while a few of the others around them gaped.
She looked to her right and saw the long hallway that led to private and semi-private rooms for even more pleasure and next to that the large bar area where patrons gathered to drink and get to know each other.
She didn’t know where her quarry for the night would end up, but she moved toward the high top of the bar as a place to wait.
She felt eyes on her as she glided through the crowd, watching and judging.
Gentleman and ladies alike licked their lips as she moved and she couldn’t help but thrill at the feeling of being wanted by strangers.
Of being anonymous in what she saw or did over the next few hours.
It had been a very long time.
She reached the bar area and perched herself on one of the high chairs there.
The gentleman serving drinks came over. He was dressed in a shirt that was rakishly unbuttoned and wore a plain black mask.
He smiled and winked at her as he said, “And what could such a lovely lady require this fine night?”
Isabel felt blood rush to her cheeks at the playful yet direct flirtation one didn’t normally find in Society ballrooms and parlors. “A glass of madeira would be lovely.”
“I live to serve,” he said with another cheeky wink before he fetched her the glass and left her for the moment.
Once it arrived, she sipped her wine slowly, still watching the room and its erotic exploits with growing interest and warmth between her thighs. It felt a little like torture, actually, to see such things and not yet be able to participate.
“I cannot believe such a lovely lady as yourself is alone,” came a deep male voice from beside her, though not one she recognized.
She turned toward the gentleman. He was tall and broad shouldered, with dark blond hair and brown eyes that rolled over her body in one long sweep. He was not the man she waited for.
“Good evening, sir,” she said. “I am not alone though.”
“An invisible lover,” he said with a laugh that was not unpleasant. “How shocking.”
“Not invisible,” she said. “Simply not here yet.”
“Oh, then perhaps you will allow me to keep you company while you wait?” he purred as he took the seat beside her without waiting for her acquiescence. “Perhaps I can convince you to trade up. ”
She tilted her head. “It would take a great deal for me to do so, but I suppose you are welcome to try.”
He took a seat beside her and sipped his own drink as he continued to look her up and down. “You are lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“It makes me wonder what a woman such as yourself, who seems to be a lady by the way she carries herself and speaks, would want to be in a place like this.”
Her smile faltered a little. “How little you think of ladies if you believe they do not have the same desires as their male counterparts. Many a woman in this place would be considered a lady out in Society.”
“I suppose so.”
“But you do not approve, not at the heart of you,” she said.
He shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose I believe that everything and everyone has a place.”
“And yet you approach me, ask me to, as you put it, trade up from my intended partner, despite your misgivings about a lady’s place.” She examined his face as she said it, wondering who he was under that mask. Who he was married to. Who he judged in his everyday life.
“Well, if I can benefit…” He tried to put on a rakish smile but she ignored it.
“As I said, I’m waiting for someone,” she said. “One who believes my desires are perfectly wonderful, no matter my rank.”
His own smile fell and he shifted a little in his seat.
She had made him uncomfortable, clearly, by not agreeing that a lady didn’t belong in such a club.
Perhaps she might have feared his reaction, but before he could say or do anything else, she looked past him and smiled, because there was her intended partner for the night, coming through the throng, his gaze intent on her despite the erotic actions all around him.
“And there he is now,” she said, getting up.
The gentleman did the same and pivoted just as her lover reached them.
She shivered at the look of him, so tall and broad shouldered.
Even with his face covered with a mask, she couldn’t help but stared at his gray eyes that could make a woman lose herself.
How many times had she lost herself in him? Too many to count.
“Miss Swan,” he drawled, catching her ungloved hand and lifting it to his lips and brushing them back and forth across her skin until her thighs clenched. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
“My friend here was keeping me company,” she said. “But I’m glad you’ve arrived.”
Her lover glanced at the other man with a quick and dismissive sniff. “How nice. But I think I’d like to take the lady for a dance, sir. If you’ll excuse us.”
The other gentleman muttered some disappointed words and slunk back to the other side of the bar where he began talking to another woman. Isabel sighed as the masked gentleman placed a hand on her lower back and guided her toward the dancefloor.
“Was he bothering you?” he asked.
She glanced up at him, seeing how his lips were in a thin line. Oh, that wouldn’t do! She didn’t want him to be cross or on guard. That ruined the fun of this.
“My dearest love,” she said softly as they took a place with the others on the floor. “He was merely telling me how as a lady, I didn’t belong here…all while making the attempt to seduce me. Are you wildly jealous?”
The corner of his mouth quirked and he lowered his head closer so he could whisper in her ear, “I already know the world wants you, Isabel. It drives me wild to know that and also know that you only bring your wonderfully erotic desires home to me.”
He brushed his lips against the side of her throat and she shivered as she brought herself closer to him, digging her hands into his shoulders.
“They’re only yours, Matthew,” she whispered in return, using his name as he’d used hers, even though they were supposed to be pretending not to know each other.
“And now let’s play our game. We are no longer husband and wife, duke and duchess.
Tonight we are Miss Swan and Mr…what name did you give tonight? ”
“ Mr . Swan would be the right answer, but I think I chose Mr. Smith.” He laughed and she was warmed by it.
“How creative,” she teased and wrapped her arms around his neck as she gazed up into his face. “Well, Mr. Smith , now you have me on the dancefloor and we are, at least for a few hours, strangers.”
“Yes, a very beautiful stranger, indeed,” he said, gliding his hands to her hips and massaging there gently.
She caught her breath and bit her lip. “You’re already driving me mad.”
“Good,” he purred and spun them in the writhing crowd. “What did you look at while you were waiting for me? Or was all your time wasted on that fool at the bar?”
“When I came in, I saw a few very naughty things,” she admitted. “And all I could think of was what gentleman might arrive to do even naughtier things to me.”
His smile grew more wicked as he sank into the game. “Oh, really? Like what?”
“Like let me lick him under the table while he has a drink or plays cards.”
His smile fell and he swallowed hard. “I see. And?”